A gentle breeze swept through the noble gardens, stirring the fragrance of blooming lilacs and soft rose petals. The afternoon sun bathed everything in gold, and laughter of aristocrats echoed faintly in the distance.
On a marble bench beneath a flowering arch, sat a young nobleman — blonde, blue-eyed, and perfectly dressed in a tailored ivory coat embroidered with silver threads.
To anyone passing by, he looked like the ideal gentleman: refined, confident, and entirely at home among nobility.
He smiled warmly as a girl approached.
Her name was Lady Elena, daughter of House Virellé — one of the oldest noble families in the kingdom.
She wore a pale blue dress that shimmered like water, and her fingers played nervously with a silk handkerchief.
"You look beautiful today," he said with a soft smile.
She forced a smile back, then sat beside him — though leaving just enough space between them to make a statement.
A silence passed.
She finally broke it.
"I… asked around," she said, voice low.
He tilted his head, still smiling — but his eyes searched hers carefully.
"About what?"
"About your family," she answered.
"I asked House Aurenwald… about you. I said your name was Marius, and that you were their son. But… they told me they've never had a son by that name."
Her voice trembled.
"Nor with your description."
His smile didn't fade — but something behind it shifted.
"Ah… well… perhaps… they didn't want to talk about me," he said, chuckling nervously.
"Politics, you know. Families disown sons all the time—"
"Stop."
Her voice was firm now.
"You told me you were from a noble line. That you'd bring honor if we ever—"
She stopped herself.
"But I've heard… there are criminals in the kingdom. Ones who can… change their appearance."
He stood slowly, hands raised slightly in peace.
"Elena… wait—listen to me. I swear, I'm not one of them."
"You brought me a ring," she whispered.
"It's been in the papers. That ring was stolen from a merchant in broad daylight."
His jaw clenched.
"I didn't steal it."
"Then where did you get it?"
He had no answer.
She took a step back. Her eyes, once soft and adoring, now filled with something else: fear.
"Who are you?" she whispered.
"Tell me your real name…"
His lips parted — but no sound came.
The guards nearby hadn't noticed yet. But he could see it in her face — the decision forming behind her eyes. One scream, and it would all be over.
"Elena, please…"
She didn't move. Her hand trembled near her side.
With a look of sorrow, he turned and ran — vanishing between the hedges like a ghost swallowed by green.