kan lakan

Lakan sat quietly in the palace gardens. The wisp of smoke rising from his pipe melted into the twilight like a fading thought. It was his ritual, his refuge after the endless obligations of the day. Here, among the sculpted hedges and the still lotus ponds, the world sank into silence. If he was lucky, he sometimes caught a glimpse of his daughter, MaoMao, slipping into the distant corridors like the shadow of a memory.

He leaned back on the stone bench, one ankle casually resting on his other knee, the lacquered pipe balanced between his fingers. He took a slow drag, letting the smoke linger before exhaling it into the dim light.

"Master Lakan?"

The voice, soft but composed, broke the silence. He turned around, his eyebrows slightly raised. The woman stood half in shadow, her face hidden, but her attire – a multi-layered silk dress, her hair adorned with delicate pins – marked her as a lady of the imperial court.

He inclined his head with a slight, unreadable smile. "Yes, my lady?" he said in a low, soft voice, like the calm before the ripples on the surface of still water.