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Lost of labels in here. I didn't know Anat liked his books so much.

Let's check the section on Sargonian history...

(Finally, she's gone.)

(This room sure is luxurious... is that gold thread woven into the cushions on the sofa?)

(That's the mummy from the poster. They put it right here in the room? I'll never understand the tastes of rich people.)

(There she is... good, she's completely distracted...)

(With apologies...)

Narantuya walks up softly and reaches into her pocket, taking out the syringe that she has kept hidden within.

She spent countless days and nights training, even when blisters formed on her feet, in order to be able to walk across a sand dune without leaving any footprints.

Now, she can walk through a crowded market, bells hanging from her neck, without making a single sound.

A Padishah's daughter stands before her. All alone.

When Narantuya raises the syringe, however, a hand suddenly grabs hers and immobilizes it in midair.

(A hidden bodyguard?)

(You—!)

Narantuya cannot speak.

The mummy laying on the sofa has appeared behind her, grabbing her hand with a steely grip.

Her struggles are futile, and all she can do is watch in terror as the needle approaches her own neck.

The other hand of the mummy is clasped across her mouth, not letting go until the entire contents of the syringe have been injected into Narantuya's veins.

As her consciousness gradually fades, she feels the hand lift her by the collar and hold her outside the window.

One last thought flashes through her mind as she feels her feet dangling in the air.

If only she had more competent subordinates.

An insect lurking in the dark.

What...?

What's that sound?

Y-You're moving again?

My mind is no longer clouded. There is clarity. I must communicate my cognition through language.

A-Are you alive?

My life has long passed. What you see is simply a well-preserved vessel.

Who are you?

In times of prosperity, I was His Majesty Lugalszargus Shahanshah's personal guard, defending him from the fires of battle.

In times of decline, I willingly forsook the sweet release of death for the eternal torment of time, defending His Majesty's trove from invaders, safeguarding the Shahanshah's vow, and awaiting...

Awaiting the return of the Shahanshah.

H-How should I call you?

My name is Zubayidamu Yanur Ayyusuiz.

You may call me—Zubayr.

Mother, what is that lady doing sitting by the pond, staring down at the water?

She's dressed in Minoan clothes. The Minoans are said to be great thinkers and debaters.

She must be thinking about deep, philosophical questions...

Philo... what?

But she looks so pretty, sitting there alone...

Hanimefendi, the museum is closed.

I know. I'm waiting for it to reopen.

Well... I'm afraid there's currently no schedule for reopening.

According to procedure, the curator must declare the emergency resolved, perform a risk assessment, and report to the stakeholders before a reopening date can be announced.

I know. One of your colleagues already told me.

As you can see, I'm waiting.

You said you left something in the museum?

Yes.

Is it very urgent? Could you wait for our staff to look for it? We can contact you once we've found it.

No, I can't wait.

How about this... I can unlock the door, and we'll have someone accompany you inside.

Thank you—

Mother...

What is it?

Is someone jumping from that window?!

Aspasia looks up at the child's cry and sees a woman falling from high up.

With little time to think or look to the guard opening the door, she dashes over and holds out her arms.