Brothel Manager : Unexpected Encounter with A Hidden Family Heirloom

Far in the distance, atop the human pyramid, Leela, Amara's sister, was shouting with joy, her voice filled with relief. "My sister is alive! She's alive!" On the Farus family's side, the patriarch let out a long breath, his chest heaving as the tension finally left him. His daughter was safe. The battle was over. Das continued his march, Amara nestled against him, her face buried in his chest. She had seen him as a warrior, a protector—but now, in this moment, she saw him for what he truly was. He wasn't just a soldier or a loyal servant—he was her savior, the man who had risked everything to protect her, even when she hadn't realized it. And in her heart, she knew she could never repay him for that. The battlefield was filled with silence and awe as Das walked out of the Taurus family's army, not a single finger or nail lost, even after facing the unbreakable wall of heavy shields. Princess Amara of the Farus family lay with barely any consciousness, her body limp against his chest. Each of Das's steps was heavy, his muscles aching, but his grip on the princess was steady. His face, covered in sweat and blood, showed no sign of the storm he had just weathered. Ahead, the patriarch of the Farus family stood alongside his daughter Leela. They were surrounded by nurses and war doctors, their eyes fixed on the approaching figure of Das. The soldiers of the Farus family, who had seen countless battles and bloodshed, were staring at him like he was something out of legend. One man. One single man had done this. The thought echoed through their minds. If not for him, Princess Amara would have fallen today, just another casualty in the heat of battle. But Das had changed the course of the war, and in doing so, had saved the princess. As Das crossed the shield wall of enemy, the patriarch of the Farus family and Leela rushed toward him. Their faces were filled with a mix of disbelief, gratitude, and sorrow. Leela's eyes were wide as she looked at her sister, barely conscious in Das's arms. "Amara...," the patriarch whispered, his voice breaking. Das, taking slow, deliberate steps, laid Amara down gently onto the stretcher. His arms, slick with blood and dirt, trembled slightly as he let her go. Amara's eyes fluttered open for a moment, her gaze still fixed on Das. She couldn't speak, but her eyes said it all—gratitude, admiration, and something deeper she couldn't yet comprehend. Her fingers lightly brushed against his arm as he moved away, and as their touch broke. Just as Das let go of Amara, Leela threw herself at Das, her arms wrapping around his neck as she sobbed uncontrollably. "Thank you... thank you...," she repeated, her voice muffled by her cries. Her tears mixed with the blood and grime on his armor, but she didn't care. She clung to him like a child, her small frame shaking with the weight of her emotions Amara stared at this scene with an emotionless face. Before she lost connection completely, a single tear rolled down from the corner of her eye. "Ahh..." Das groaned softly, the weight of Leela's embrace pressing against his battered muscles. Leela quickly let go, her face turning red with embarrassment. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to..." she stammered, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. Das, ignoring the pain and the stares of admiration from the soldiers around him, took a deep breath. He didn't respond to Leela's apology; instead, he turned and walked toward a bucket of freshwater held by a servant. The battlefield watched in silence as Das pulled a single thread on his armor, releasing the blood-stained metal plating from his chest. His armor clattered to the ground, and he dipped his entire head into the bucket, letting the cool water wash over him. The blood and grime flowed down his face, revealing his sharp features, the exhaustion etched into every line of his skin. He lifted his head from the bucket, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He grabbed another bucket and poured the water over himself, the crimson marks of battle washing away as the water cascaded down his body. The soldiers, both friend and foe, were watching in stunned silence. They couldn't turn their eyes away from him. Even the enemy soldiers of the Taurus family, still standing on the battlefield, were frozen in place. "He's... he's like a ghost..." The frontline commander whispered. "A legend..." another muttered, his voice filled with awe. "We... we can't win this war until he stands on the enemy side." "Did you see him? How he moved... like a storm. One man. Just one man did this. I really wonder how many lives have been lost because of him." another soldier said, his voice trembling. Das paid them no mind. To him, their words were just noise, insignificant in the grand scheme of what had just transpired. He was not here for admiration or praise. He had a purpose, and that purpose was half fulfilled with today's war. With his bloody sword still glowing crimson in his hand, Das walked slowly toward the 13th section of the battlefield, where the servants tended to the wounded. He ignored the gazes of admiration, the whispers of soldiers in awe, as if the battlefield was nothing more than a carnival—a passing spectacle he had no interest in. The 12 commanders who mocked Das as a lame duck were staring at him with wide open mouths. But one pair of eyes followed him more closely than the rest. From a distance, standing near the end of soldiers, Mona, the daughter of the Taurus family patriarch, stared at him in utter shock. Her heart raced as she watched the man who had single-handedly turned the tide of the war walk away, drenched in blood, his face calm and resolute. "D… Das..." she whispered to herself, her breath catching in her throat. She had never expected it would be him—the man who had stolen her heart would be the reason for the downfall of her army. - Thank You All... ;-)