The refractive mismatch is only 0.0013, imperceptible to the eye but glaring to science. That microscopic flaw becomes the betrayal—the moment perfection turns on itself.

In this sense, Motalaby doesn’t rewrite history—he revives it. He gives the Regent a voice again, making it more than an artifact. It becomes the storyteller, whispering of empires, revolutions, and the fragile line between ambition and downfall.

Motalaby’s characters are driven not by greed but by legacy anxiety—a desire to leave a mark so indelible that it cannot be erased by time. Arman’s heist is a rebellion against invisibility, a stand against the inevitability of being forgotten. He steals not for profit but for proof—that he existed, that he mattered, that he could create something beyond reach.

“The market didn’t beat me—I beat myself… It wasn’t just a loss—it was exposure. The market had laid me bare, stripped away

“The market didn’t beat me—I beat myself by ignoring discipline and patience. Mastering the market is not about