Alan opened the door first.
What waited on the other side wasn't a throne room, a palace, or a fancy hall.
Just wood, warm light, and the smell of dried sap and clean cloth. The air felt… Light. Kind. It had all kind of flower Aromas Raizen couldn't really distinguish.
He stepped in behind Elin and immediately slowed down.
Not because he was afraid.
Because the walls stopped him.
They weren't covered in medals or trophies, like Atman's office. No trophies polished so hard they begged for worship. No giant banners or carved symbols praising the Ruler.
Just photos. Tens. Hundreds, even. So many photos that the wood behind them barely showed.
Frames of different sizes, hung close together like the room had slowly turned into a living archive. Some were old and faded at the edges. Some were newer, the colors still sharp. A few had been repaired, corners fixed with tiny metal brackets, like someone refused to let a memory rot.
