As he strolled, he removed his gloves and laid them gently on the hospital’s tiled entrance. The operation weighed heavily on him as he moved deliberately, his demeanor composed and seemingly devoid of emotion. He was dressed in a light blue long-sleeved t-shirt and black jeans.
“Weldon, sir! Everything is ready,” he remarked calmly, acknowledging the unspoken agreement between him and his assistant, Gogan. Speaking was challenging for Gogan due to his unique appearance with fiery red hair and features that carried a touch of femininity, rendering him all the more intriguing. His affable nature shone through, and despite his slight frame, it was evident that he wasn’t accustomed to strenuous labor, preferring to occupy an office.
The door bore the title “DR. TAFIDA” in bold letters. Dr. Tafida proceeded slowly into his office, which exuded an aura of authority akin to a presidential office. He settled into a lengthy chair, resting his head against the armrest. With deliberate movements, he loosened his necktie and removed his glasses, revealing a pallid face framed by a tangle of dark hair. His strikingly large eyes were encircled by those deep black curls, and his lips held a cryptic expression.
After a moment’s respite, he rose gracefully, almost like a woman, and approached his desk. There, he rang a bell, prompting the arrival of three attendants garbed in resplendent red attire. They entered the room, and in unison, they chanted, “Assist the illustrious Tafida, son of the king, grandson of the king, and the king-to-be by God’s grace. May God bless you!”
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