Emerald Strings

Parallel Paths

Chapter 1:

The royal room was massive, with a high ceiling and walls that seemed to stretch forever. The entire space was painted in shades of brown, from the dark wooden floor to the deep, earthy panels that covered the walls. There were no splashes of color anywhere, no paintings or bright decorations to break the monotony.

To anyone else, it might have seemed dull, but for Him, it was exactly how he liked it. The absence of vibrant colors made it easier for him to live. He didn’t see the world the way others did, and in this room, there was nothing to remind him of what he couldn’t see.

The bed stood in the middle of the room, large enough to feel like a throne. It was a king-sized masterpiece with a sturdy, dark wooden frame, polished to a shine. The headboard was tall and carved with simple, clean lines that spoke of elegance and power.

The sheets were soft and smooth, a mix of silk and cotton in shades of brown and beige. A thick comforter lay on top, perfectly arranged, and the pillows were stacked neatly, as if the bed had never been touched. Despite its neatness, it was clear the bed was meant for one person. The space around it was empty, echoing the loneliness that seemed to linger in the air.

The room was quiet, save for the faint ticking of a clock on the bedside table. The table was small and simple, holding only the alarm clock and a single book with a dark brown cover. He lay sprawled on the bed, the sheets rumpled around him.

He was shirtless, his lean and toned body stretched out comfortably. His skin was fair with a subtle, honey-almond glow, catching the soft light that peeked through the edges of the curtains. His dark hair was messy, as though he had been tossing and turning, but it only added to his rugged charm.

As the alarm clock rang, the piercing sound broke through the heavy silence of the room. He stirred, his brow furrowing slightly before his eyes slowly opened. His dark, almond-shaped eyes were deep and piercing, though they carried a shadow of something unspoken, something heavy.

He blinked a few times, adjusting to the dim light, and then lazily stretched out his arm to stop the alarm. His movements were slow, deliberate, almost as if he was reluctant to start the day.

He sat up, running a hand through his tousled hair. His gaze swept over the room, but it wasn’t with admiration. To him, the world was always muted. The colors he could see were limited to shades of gray, black, and brown.

The vibrant greens, reds, and blues that others talked about were nothing but words to him. Even if there were colors in his room, they wouldn’t matter. The dark tones of his mansion matched the way he saw the world, simple, restrained, and devoid of distractions.

Rising from the bed, he made his way to the bathroom. The cold wooden floor creaked slightly under his feet as he walked. The bathroom was as grand as the bedroom, with polished stone floors and walls.

The sink and countertops were crafted from dark marble, while the large mirror stretched across one wall. A glass shower stood in one corner, its edges sharp and clean. Like the rest of his space, it was dominated by earthy tones.

He stepped into the shower and turned on the water. He didn’t flinch as the warm stream hit his skin. Instead, he stood there for a moment, letting the heat roll over his body. The steam filled the room quickly, clouding the glass and softening the harsh lines of the space.

As the water cascaded down, he tilted his head back and closed his eyes. The warmth was comforting, though he didn’t allow himself to relax completely. He was always alert, always in control.

Even in moments like this, his mind was sharp. He thought about the day ahead, planning every move. His arrogance and coldness weren’t just traits; they were survival mechanisms. He had built a reputation on being calculating and manipulative, someone who always got what he wanted. And he wore that reputation like armor, keeping the world at a distance.