firstkhaotungforlife
- Reads 184
- Votes 23
- Parts 15
As the amber sand settles, the silence of the ruins is replaced by the sharp click of boots on polished marble and the distant melody of a string quartet. The weathered stone is gone in its place, the grand hall breathes with life in 1895, its velvet red walls vibrant and unblemished, and the golden edges of the arches gleaming under the firelight of a thousand candles.
At the far end of the hall, framed by the intricate carvings of dragons and lotus flowers, stands Prince Kanaphan Puitrakul. Draped in heavy ceremonial silks of deep crimson and gold, he possesses a commanding yet curious gaze that seems to pierce through the century Khaotung just left behind. The Prince pauses, his hand resting on the hilt of a decorative saber, as he watches the strangely dressed art student materialize in the heart of his courtas if he had been expecting a visitor from the future all along.