Early the next morning, the butler came to the door of Bejao's bedroom with a set of new clothes. He knocked, then stood by the door and waited.
Today, Bejao had summoned him of his own accord. Normally, Bejao rose earlier and sent for him.
He knew Bejao had been excited these past few days and unable to sleep, so he had deliberately delayed his arrival by fifteen minutes today, hoping Bejao could get a little more rest.
He stood by the door waiting. Under normal circumstances, Bejao should have woken by now. He would probably stretch lazily, sit on the edge of the bed, put on his shoes, and call for the butler to enter.
At the thought, the corners of the butler's mouth lifted slightly. He had served Bejao for forty years, and their relationship was even closer than that between relatives.
The president had no airs and never mistreated his servants. He treated everyone like a friend or brother. It was his honor to work for Bejao.
As he thought about how everything would be different after today, and felt happy for the man he served, he noticed something strange.
There had been no sound from inside the room. He knocked again and said from beside the door, "Master, it's time to get up."
But two minutes later, there was still no response.
The butler felt an inexplicable panic. He did not hesitate any longer, but twisted the handle and pushed open the door.
From where he stood, he could see Bejao lying on his side with his back to him, covered by a thin blanket. He seemed to still be resting.
Before he could even breathe a sigh of relief, the faint smell drifting from the room made his face change color.
In Maliro, there was