Sixteen years ago. The rear gardens of the Delal Manor.
Under the silver gaze of a full moon, the manic energy of a performance unfolded upon the grass.
Mansi Delal, the dignified family Head, was nowhere to be seen. In his place was a jester, a 'Joker.' A bright red sphere was attached to his nose, and his face was twisted into a grotesque, comical grimace.
In front of him, a little girl—no older than five or six—was laughing hysterically. Her bell-like laughter rang through the night.
"Ha ha ha! Papa, you look so funny! Joker! Joker!"
The sound of her joy caused a dam to break within Mansi's chest. Instead of stopping, he exaggerated his movements, tumbling and making faces, desperate to keep that melody of laughter alive.
Suddenly, he stopped. Overwhelmed, he scooped the girl up and crushed her into a tight embrace.
"Papa... that hurts..." she complained in a sweet, pouty voice.
Mansi didn't listen. He dropped to his knees, lowering her to the ground, and brought his face agonizingly close to hers. The little girl, flushed with embarrassment at her father's strange behavior, shrank back slightly.
"Papa, why are you acting like this?"
She couldn't finish her sentence. Mansi kissed her forehead with a tenderness that bordered on desperation.
"My sweet daughter... for you, Papa would remain a Joker for an entire lifetime."
The girl beamed, her face radiating pure light. She threw her tiny arms around his neck, hugging him back.
But a moment later, she pulled back, confused. Hot droplets of water were falling onto her cheeks. She looked up to see her powerful father crying like a helpless child.
She reached out with her small hand, wiping the tears from his eyes.
"What happened, Papa? Why are you crying? I am right here. I will love you forever."
Mansi hugged her tighter, his voice cracking, choked with a grief too heavy for words.
"If... if only you were real, my child..."
The girl smiled. It was a smile that held a supernatural luminescence. Slowly, she began to untangle herself from her father's embrace. Mansi tried to hold on, to anchor her to reality, but he grasped only air.
"Even if I am not real, I love you, Papa," she whispered, her voice fading like an echo. "More than anyone else in this universe!"
Mansi watched in horror and awe. Particles of brilliant light began to drift from her body. She was turning transparent, becoming glass, becoming nothing.
"No! No! Don't go, Ma! Don't leave me!" Mansi screamed, his voice tearing through the silence.
Before she dissolved completely into the wind, her final whisper reached him:
"Please, Papa... when your daughter is truly born... take care of her."
Mansi scrambled forward, clawing at the emptiness, trying to save his beloved illusion from the void. Tears flooded his vision.
"Please..."
He slipped on the wet grass, crashing face-first into the earth.
As he looked up, he saw his daughter curl into a fetal position inside a glowing lunar halo. She closed her eyes.
And then—
BOOM!
With the sound of an explosion, the dream shattered like a mirror dropped from the heavens.
Mansi jolted up in his bed, gasping as if struck by lightning.
His chest heaved like a bellows. The tears from the dream were still rolling down his cheeks, cold and real. It took him a long time to calm his racing heart.
Beside him, his wife slept soundly. She was the love of his life, yet by a cruel rule of nature, she was barren.
Mansi leaned over and gently kissed her forehead. Then, he placed a trembling hand over her stomach.
"I will find a way, my love. I promise. We will be parents. We will see the face of our child. I swear it!"
Knock! Knock!
The sharp sound on the door broke the spell. Mansi wiped his eyes and stood up. Opening the door, he found a maid standing there, holding a royal letter.
"Lord Azgaar Ahmed has invited you to his palace," she said, bowing low.
Mansi opened the letter with surprise.
"An invitation to celebrate the arrival of his newborn? That man..."
A complex knot of emotions tightened in Mansi's gut. He was much older than Azgaar, yet Azgaar had become a father, while Mansi remained childless. Was this invitation a taunt? A mockery?
He sighed heavily. The rules of society had to be maintained. He sent his acceptance.
He looked back at his sleeping wife one last time, his eyes filled with a mixture of profound sorrow and fierce affection.
✦✦✦
The Grand Hall of the Ahmed Palace.
The atmosphere was festive, buzzing with laughter and music. All the dignitaries of the village were present. Mansi sat in a secluded corner, isolating himself. Yet, his eyes kept drifting toward the bundle in Azgaar's arms—the infant, Ruhan Ahmed.
At first, he refused to look. Looking at another man's child only amplified the hollowness in his own chest.
But strangely, the infant Ruhan wasn't looking at the crowd or the lights. With wide, obsidian eyes, the baby was staring directly at Mansi. That deep, unblinking gaze was impossible to ignore.
"A father, a mother, and a child... what a beautiful scene," Mansi thought bitterly.
A sob threatened to burst from his throat. He wanted to stand up and leave. He couldn't let anyone see the tears of the Delal Patriarch.
Suddenly, Azgaar Ahmed stood up. He walked straight through the crowd, heading directly for Mansi.
Without a word, he placed the infant Ruhan into Mansi's arms.
Mansi froze. He looked up at Azgaar, his internal voice screaming, Are you mocking me, Azgaar? Is my pain a joke to you?
But in the next second, his anger melted into ice.
Baby Ruhan reached out and wrapped his tiny fist tightly around Mansi's finger. Mansi wanted to pull his hand away, but the magic of that touch paralyzed him.
"Khi-i-i...!"
The baby let out a peal of crystal-clear laughter. It was as if the child adored him.
The dam broke. Mansi's defenses crumbled. He didn't make a sound, but silent tears began to stream down his face, dripping onto the chubby cheeks of the infant.
He no longer cared what the others thought. He could not deny the pure love radiating from this newborn.
Azgaar Ahmed, with calculating grace, shifted his position to shield Mansi from the prying eyes of the guests. He turned to the servants and commanded, "Begin the feast."
As the crowd drifted toward the banquet tables, only three remained in that corner: Azgaar, Mansi, and the child.
Voice trembling, Mansi whispered, "Thank you for your kindness, Azgaar."
Azgaar's face was unreadable. His voice dropped to a solemn bass. "I have found a way to solve your wife's problem."
Mansi flinched. Denial rose instantly.
"What the greatest doctors and healers could not do... how can you do it?"
Azgaar sighed, adjusting his glasses. "I am certain I can. However, the medicine takes time to adapt to the body."
Mansi's shoulders slumped. He thought Azgaar was offering false hope, empty platitudes.
Reading his mind, a faint smile played on Azgaar's lips.
"You don't believe me, do you? Do you remember a maid you sold to our family a few years ago?" Mansi frowned, irritated. "I don't remember such trivial things. And why bring this up now?"
Azgaar snapped his fingers.
A side door opened, and a woman entered. She kept her head bowed, murmuring, "Master..."
Mansi looked at her closely, rummaging through his memories.
"Taslima?"
The woman smiled humbly. "Yes, Master. It has been a long time."
But she was not wearing a maid's rags. She was adorned in an expensive maroon lehenga, with a royal scarf draped over her shoulders. She looked like a noblewoman.
Mansi was stunned. "How is this possible? She was a servant... now she looks like aristocracy?"
Taslima explained softly, "I am now the concubine of Lord Amir Ahmed."
Mansi shook his head in disbelief. "That old man finally took a concubine? Now I understand why Azgaar's mother has been so scarce lately."
Suddenly, Mansi's eyes locked onto something behind her.
Peeking out from behind Taslima's heavy skirt was a small boy. The child looked at the elderly Mansi with fear, clutching his mother's dress.
Taslima picked the boy up, stroking his hair.
"Don't be afraid, son. Mother is here."
Mansi stood there like a tree struck by lightning, rooted to the spot.
He looked at Azgaar with eyes wide with disbelief.
"How... how is this possible? Taslima was... she was unfit to be a mother! The doctors declared she would never bear children!"
Taslima blushed slightly. "It is all Lord Azgaar's mercy. He applied a medicine on me. Even a barren woman like me became a mother after his treatment. He truly is a miracle doctor!"
Mansi turned his gaze to Azgaar. This man was not just a warrior, but a doctor capable of defying nature?
"You... you did this?"
Azgaar gave a shy, almost modest smile. "I found a formula while reading some foreign texts. The treatment isn't perfectly refined for Masterers yet, so I am still researching."
Mansi could no longer hold back. Tears of joy, hot and fast, rolled down his face.
"That means... my wife can be freed from her curse? I can be a father?"
Azgaar gestured for Taslima to leave. The door clicked shut.
The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly. The warmth evaporated, replaced by a heavy, transactional silence.
"Yes, you can," Azgaar said slowly, his voice dropping an octave. "But in exchange... you must do something for me."
Azgaar paused, his gaze intensifying behind the lenses of his glasses.
"For your wife, for your unborn child... and for the sake of this infant you hold in your arms right now."
Mansi was speechless for a moment. He understood perfectly. This wasn't charity; it was a pact. A lifelong contract with a man far more dangerous than he appeared.
He wiped his eyes. Then, slowly, dignifiedly, he stood up and bowed his head before Azgaar.
"Have mercy, Azgaar... To see the face of my own child, I am willing to do anything. Anything."
That familiar, mysterious smile bloomed on Azgaar's face. But hidden within the corners of that smile was a glint of something predatory—a cold, demonic satisfaction.
Before turning to leave the room, Azgaar's voice floated back, sealing the fate of the Delal family.
"Meet me tonight at 3 AM."