'Fog' covered Emir's left and right, shielding him from the others completely and isolating him with Mr. Player.
This was the second time this had happened, and he still wasn't used to it.
The pressure was immense.
Having Mr. Player's entire attention fixated on him almost made him break into a sweat.
And unlike the last time, there was no melody in the background.
It seemed Mr. Player wanted him to feel the full weight of the moment.
Whether this was to help him get used to it or to use it against him in his mental battle with Ms. Queen, Emir didn't know.
All he knew was that his life felt like a tiny flame on a candle—one of trillions—vulnerable to being snuffed out by the softest of winds.
He was humbled, reminded that while he might be considered of 'importance' on Earth, to giants like the man in front of him, he was no more significant than the very 'ants' he often squashed.
