章 6: . My Place
Canaan's phone vibrated, and he picked it up.
"Isn't it crazy how I recognize you in every form you take whenever I'm reincarnated?" Situ drawled over the phone, his second right finger dancing slowly across the rim of the glass cup filled with something too thick to be wine.
"Nurna," he calmly called out after he got no response from Mr. Canaan. He got the perfect timing as that stopped Mr. Canaan from dialing the end call button.
"I saw her already, and she's willing to go on a vacation with me. She recognized me just immediately. Judging that she didn't cling to you the moment you met, I don't think that's the case for you, poor you. You waited for so long, 7, 8 centuries, isn't it?" He rambled.
"She won't be seeing you, ever again."
"You took her? Oh, we both know that's not a smart move," he drawled, his voice colored with a copious amount of sly, his lips formed into a Chesire grin.
"I can protect what's mine, and don't you dare do anything at all."
"Oh my, I'm so terrified, I should tell my daddy!" he gibbered in a tiny animated voice, "or I should tell the king, he'll be delighted to know of this."
"Goodnight, Shiba," Mr. Canaan said with an eerie smile before hanging up.
He could bet on everything that he had that Situ would never let anything harm Nurna. Then and now.
He peered at Nurna once again.
"I'll do it right this time," he whispered to himself.
They finally arrived at where Mr. Canaan casually called "his place". The jet rolled across the tarmac before halting, allowing them to alight.
His house was like a tiny village, an exaggeratedly luxurious one of course. Nurna took a 360° turn to take in the area, which was brightly lit with little amber bulbs that were independently floating around.
The sprawling villa stretched out before them like a dream. Its aged stone ivy covered walls whispered stories of a century past, but the gleaming glass windows that hinted at a modern marvel within.
The sheer size of the place could take your breath away. Acres of beautiful gardens rolled out, punctuated by meticulously maintained farm fields. Nurna could see a grand stable with gleaming stalls and horses, and there were little buildings neatly arranged far adjacent to the villa.
About 12 middle-aged women dressed in polished maiden attires lined up in a perfect horizontal line with their backs bent at the same perfect degree like they've been doing it all their lives.
The lines on Filo's forehead formed as she watched the display of affluence. Mr. Canaan was anything but a showy person; he didn't even like people. He was always not bothered.
"Is this how they welcome him all the time?" she gasped at that thought.
"I always knew he was a tyrant," she muttered to herself.
Stepping through the grand entrance, they were welcomed with an exquisite decor of creamy whites, soothing beiges, and tasteful accents that seemed to hover between the past and the future.
Sleek, curved furniture sculpted from rare materials nestled comfortably against antique tapestries.
Filo stifled a laugh when she looked beside her and caught Mr. Canaan looking at Nurna, like a kid waiting for his mother's acknowledgment ob his room that he cleaned himself for the first time.
"Where's the food?" Nurna boomed in Lestkan as she sauntered across the large living room.
Filo almost facepalmed. She took caution and faded into the background, making sure not to get in between whatever will ensue between the duo.
An aesthetic vintage turntable was playing classical music in the background of the dining table.
Nurna pushed the plate away, for the third time now, with dramatic force, the clatter echoing in the tense silence. The maids from outside were now in the dining room, still in that half-bent position in a perfect line.
Invisible sweat trickled down their faces collectively, fearing the colossal impact of this matter.
The chef and the butler had a calm smile on their faces like they were accustomed to what was happening.
Nurna's small lips were pursed into a tight line, and a furrow deepened between her brows. Her eyes were now a startling dark amber, narrowed into slits, glinting with disdain at Mr. Canaan who kept motioning to the chef to open up another dish; he didn't seem surprised at the behavior.
Filo's right hand clenched onto the hem of her dress as she glanced at Nurna. She's almost done with her meal while Nurna was still nitpicking. Filo thought that Nurna was overdoing it at this point. No one else but her can try this.
The chef brought another dish before the petite lady sitting rigidly, back ramrod straight in her chair, shoulders squared as if daring the food to defy her.
Each dismissive taste was punctuated by a sharp shake of her head, a barely audible scoff escaped her nostrils, speaking of her disappointment.
"Hey!" It was Filo who yelled.
"Will you eat something before I spank you?" she said in between her teeth, hoping Mr. Canaan doesn't hear her.
"You can leave," Mr. Canaan ordered Filo.
Filo was led out of the living room.
She scanned the remaining two dishes with suspicion, as if they were personal insults rather than culinary offerings. Every muscle in her face seemed taut with suppressed frustration. Her stomach growled, and she bit her lips. She was quick to catch herself as she raised her head up in a haughty grade.
"Is this what you're fed?"
"Coming from someone that foolishly ate nuts," he was now resting on the chair, with his palms behind his head and his eyes closed. With a deep breath that filled his lungs to the brim, pushing forward his bare taut chest peeking out of his black shirt that accentuates his pale skin, he stood up and walked towards the now chaotic kitchen.
Rolling up his sleeve, he brought a bag of transparent dry lumped colloidal substances. He boiled water himself and poured a bit into a steel bowl. The substance swelled and became soft like a chewy porridge.
He then placed the steel bowl in ice to cool it down.
"Is there fresh goat milk?" He asked as he calmly stirred the strange-looking porridge.
Taking the bottle of milk, he went to the dining table.
He dropped the meal before her, and her rigid posture instantly relaxed, her deep frown replaced with a fond smile. With stars in her eyes, she looked up at him, she tilted her head at the endearing expression on his face.
He sighed as he took his seat beside her.
"Move," she grunted.
Mr. Canaan didn't budge; instead, he made himself comfortable on the cushioned dining chair.
She didn't feel deja Vu looking at the food; she felt like she had done this before numerous times.
"How much do you know about me?" Nurna challenged.
"Everything," Canaan replied.
"How much do you remember?" Canaan asked in turn, his heartbeat gradually increasing the pace of his rhythm as his breath became shallower.
"I know you, I know what you did," Nurna's voice came out chilly, causing Mr. Canaan's eyes to widen in distraught.
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