Here's the translation:
Mero approached the door of the shop, his gaze landing on the familiar silhouette of the young girl. She stood there, leaning against the doorframe, a mischievous smile on her lips and a mysterious gleam in her eyes. Without saying a word, she traced her lips with her finger, then blew a kiss toward Mero, like a silent yet insistent call. The air around her seemed heavier, almost charged with a palpable mystery, and a shiver ran down his spine. There was something in her gaze, in her posture, that felt both inviting and dangerous.
She stood there, serene and confident, as if this place belonged to her. Behind her, the shadows of the alleyways seemed to deepen, as though she were emerging from another world, another reality. The contrast was striking between the fluidity of her figure and the strange atmosphere of the shop, cluttered with dusty books. She seemed unreal, almost ethereal, yet undeniably present.
Mero watched her, her playful smile etched in his memory, her brown hair slightly floating, as if animated by a breeze he couldn’t perceive. She gave him a discreet gesture, a silent invitation to follow, to understand what she was hiding. The burning curiosity began to overpower his caution.
Around him, Leila and the sailors were absorbed in their activities. No one seemed to notice the scene. The sounds of the shop, the discussions and laughter of other customers, seemed to dissolve, as if the entire universe had focused on this young girl and her enigmatic gesture. Mero felt the tension building inside him, a strange sensation he couldn’t define. She took two steps back. The shadow of the door closed behind her. She was waiting for him on the other side.
He moved to open the door, and at that moment, hands suddenly grabbed him. He struggled, but the grip was firm, and he was quickly dragged into the dark alleyways. His efforts to break free were in vain.
He fought, but despite his struggle, Mero was pulled deeper into the alleyways, the damp cobblestones echoing under his steps. The young girl, at a distance, observed the scene, her eyes shining with a particular gleam. Her lips moved, whispering words in an unknown language, and immediately, something changed in the men’s attitude. Their grip loosened slightly.
One of the men, taller than the others, leaned slightly toward the young girl and whispered something to her, almost respectfully, almost fearfully. The tension relaxed a little, but Mero remained trapped in this strange situation. The city around him seemed to grow more threatening, the alleyways tightening, the walls growing higher.
The young girl then moved toward him, her gaze capturing his, a mysterious smile still playing on her lips. When she stopped in front of him, a simple gesture of her hand was enough to make the men release their hold. They stopped, motionless, waiting for her command. The silence was almost supernatural, but the situation remained tense. The young girl gave him a moment of silence, an opportunity to ask questions or to reflect, but Mero sensed that the tension in the air was palpable. The men around him acted as though they respected her, even feared her, despite their apparent strength.
Mero felt her approach, an enchanting presence, almost unreal. She smiled, and her lips whispered, in a very rudimentary Imperial, but thick with an accent, a sentence that vibrated in the heavy air around him:
"I have a little prince all to myself."
She stroked his face with a light, almost possessive touch. The tenderness of her gesture, though so soft, was unsettling, as if she were claiming part of him. The voice that accompanied it, both strange and familiar, resonated in his mind. Her words, though broken, seemed full of implications, as if every syllable were a key opening a door he dared not cross. The accent, so peculiar, wrapped the Imperial language in a bewildering mix. But what struck Mero most was the intention that emanated from her, clear and unquestionable: she saw him as a possession, a precious thing she had conquered.
The caress on his face, soft as a veil, couldn’t mask the strange feeling of domination it carried. He understood then: the box adorned with his family’s coat of arms—it was her. She had placed it on display, she had orchestrated everything.
Every fiber of his being screamed at him to resist, to flee, to turn away from this hypnotic aura. Yet, something within him hesitated. A mix of curiosity and terror intertwined in him, preventing him from moving, from thinking clearly. The men behind her remained frozen, like silent statues, observing without moving, waiting for her signal, ready to act on command.
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She then leaned slightly toward him, her eyes becoming more piercing, as if she were trying to read his deepest thoughts, to uncover his best-kept secrets. The world around Mero seemed to contract, narrowing until he perceived nothing but this girl and the overwhelming tension between them. A heavy silence settled, suffocating, before she murmured again, her voice soft, yet tinged with a chilling determination.
"You’re different… A little prince in a world of pirates. But here, there are no rules, no laws, only survival and desire."
Her words, enigmatic and sharp, hit Mero full force. She spoke of another world, a universe where he was no longer the protected student of the Empire, where he was nothing but a fragile pawn on a chessboard he didn’t yet understand. A world of anarchy, where the codes of nobility were absent, and only survival and the desire for power mattered. These words, so clear yet so mysterious, hinted at a dangerous game whose outcome he could not yet see. A game he was already caught in, with no apparent escape.
She stepped back slightly, her smile remaining, but her eyes still fixed on his, like a predator watching its prey. The men behind her, still motionless, made no move. Mero was caught in this silent dance, where every movement seemed calculated, each breath heavy with meaning. Time had suspended itself, and he no longer knew where he stood.
She spoke to them in that unknown language, and without a further glance at Mero, they continued on their way. He was taken through the city, to a grand house on the hill overlooking the bay. The place was luxurious compared to the narrow, filthy alleyways he had just left, but the softness of the exterior did nothing to ease the tension gripping his heart.
He was roughly thrown into a room that was meant to be luxurious for the area, but was really just a facade—designed to suffocate, to imprison. The door slammed shut with unexpected force, and Mero found himself alone in this strange space. The walls were adorned with brightly colored tapestries, objects of art that seemed to have come from another world littered the room, and the furniture, though modest by Imperial standards, seemed comfortable. But despite the apparent wealth, an oppressive heaviness filled the air, a feeling of confinement, as if this place was anything but a refuge.
The bars on the windows were a brutal reminder: he was no longer at home. Here, his noble status meant nothing. In this world, where the rules were not the ones he knew, he was just a stranger, a pawn. The silence became a taut canvas, and the distant murmurs from outside made the situation all the more sinister.
He heard footsteps fade down the hall, before everything fell into a heavy, unbearable silence. Alone. Here, in the heart of this house, which resembled the lair of a world he didn’t yet understand. The young girl who had drawn him here was no longer there, but her words floated in the air like a curse. "A little prince," she had said… But why him?
The questions collided in his mind like waves crashing against an untamed shore. What did she mean by "little prince"? What role was he playing in this game he didn’t control? The thought of her intentions tightened his chest. Was this a trap, or something even more sinister?
His mind spiraled into a whirl of thoughts when suddenly a noise from outside broke the silence. Footsteps were approaching. Mero’s heart clenched, and he moved toward the door, his mind tense to the breaking point, wondering what would happen next. Was this the moment everything would change?
The door creaked open again, and a figure appeared in the doorway. The young girl, accompanied by several men. Their gazes were heavy with unspoken meanings, as though an invisible pact bound them together. They had come for him, but for what purpose? Why?
Without a word, they handed him a ceremonial garment. The fabric was rich, fine and light silk, which shimmered faintly in the light. But everything, from the color to the cut, was completely foreign to him. There were no references to the Empire, no Imperial symbols, no patterns he could recognize. It was as if this garment had been intended for him by another world, one he knew nothing about.
The atmosphere grew even tenser. They left without another glance, leaving him alone with this strange garment. His hands closed around the fabric, smoothing the silky fibers but unable to grasp their meaning. Every second felt like an eternity. Uncertainty and fear overwhelmed him. Why this garment? Why now?
He knew time was running out. He turned toward the mirror, observing the garment in his hands, but his mind wandered elsewhere. The silence of the room, the sudden isolation, made him feel as if everything he did, every movement, was bringing him closer to a fate he hadn’t chosen. The question that haunted his mind remained unchanged: Why him?
Without even realizing it, he put the garment on, initially hesitant, but soon with a desperate determination. Each movement seemed a response to a challenge he couldn’t fully understand, and yet, the certainty that he was transforming, becoming something else, grew within him. A role to play, a dangerous game whose rules were still unknown to him.
As he adjusted the final piece of the garment, footsteps drew near once again. The door opened with a loud creak, and the men entered. They examined him with a haughty gaze, a mix of derision and satisfaction in their eyes. Without a word, they gestured for him to follow.
Mero then felt the weight of the moment on his shoulders. What he was doing, where he was going, all of it was beyond his control. He was caught in a web he didn’t know how to untangle, and had no choice but to follow. Where were they taking him? What did they want from him? One thing was certain: he was a pawn in this game, but what kind of player would he be in the end?