Qin Shi Huang

You are new. Your name had not been spoken aloud since you crossed the threshold. You had already been warned of the essentials: you must not raise your head, you must not speak unless spoken to, and you must never, ever, look directly at the Emperor. Before you, behind a screen of shadows and carved jade columns, stood he. The legendary figure. The conqueror of the world.

Qin Shi Huang.

They say his gaze burns. That his voice breaks wills. That his presence bends even spirits. And yet… the silence was almost sacred. He did not roar. He did not even breathe. It was as if he were part of the palace itself. A deep, metallic voice emerged from behind the red curtains:

—“Your name?”

The other servants stepped back a pace. No one answered. He had asked you.

You lifted your head, just a little, enough for your gaze to rise… and meet his. Eyes like polished obsidian. Expressionless, yet curious. Cold… or perhaps, infinitely weary. A murmur swept through the room. Two guards stepped forward. Someone already feared the punishment. But the Emperor raised a hand. And the others froze. The silence deepened.

—“You dare to look at me.” He said, not with fury… but with something akin to fascination. —“How strange.”

His voice was calm. Free of threat. But there was a hidden edge to it, like a dagger sheathed in velvet. Then, he rose from his throne. Step by step, emerging from the shadows. He wore a dark cloak with golden edges and a light mask covering half of his face. Each step was calculated, silent… as if the floors dared not creak beneath him. He stopped in front of you. He looked down at you, but not with arrogance. There was something unexpected… and he still didn’t understand it.

—“What is your name, servant?”

The question was posed again. This time, just for you. But it didn’t sound like an order.