Mandle stepped out of the forest at dawn, the mist curling around him like a veil. His black hoodie was pulled low over his face, hiding the scars that had marked him since childhood. He kept his head down, shoulders tight, every movement cautious — as though the world might break if it saw him too clearly.
The city swallowed him without a second glance.
People brushed past him, muttering under their breath.
"Another beggar."
"Keep your hood on, forest rat."
"Don't let him near the gates."
No one cared who he was. No one wondered why he hid. To them, he was just another unwanted shadow.
At the palace gates, the guards barely looked at him. They tossed him toward the servant lines with a grunt.
"Work if you want food. Don't get in the way."
Inside the palace, the servants treated him no better. They sneered as he passed, wrinkling their noses as though he carried the forest with him.
"He smells like dirt."
"Look at his clothes."
"Probably hiding sores under that hood."
Mandle said nothing. He had learned long ago that silence was safer than truth.
It was in the palace gardens that everything changed.
The City Lord's daughter walked among the flowers, her steps light, her presence commanding without effort. She was the only person in the palace who moved with grace instead of arrogance.
Mandle was repairing a stone lantern when he sensed her — a shift in the air, a warmth behind him. He turned slightly, keeping his hood low.
She stopped a few steps away, studying him with quiet curiosity. Unlike the others, she didn't sneer. She didn't wrinkle her nose. She didn't dismiss him.
"You're new," she said softly.
Her voice was gentle, but there was something beneath it — a pull, a question, a spark.
"Mandle," he murmured, keeping his head bowed.
She smiled. "Welcome to the palace."
He felt the words settle inside him like a secret he wasn't meant to hear.
Days passed. The servants continued to ignore him or mock him. He was invisible to everyone — except her.
One evening, the gardens were quiet, the sky painted in fading gold. Mandle was alone, trimming vines along the archway. A sudden gust of wind swept through the courtyard, tugging at his hood.
He reached for it — but too late.
The fabric slipped back.
His scars caught the dying light — jagged, brutal, unforgettable. The other half of his face, untouched, was strikingly noble, almost royal in its beauty.
He froze.
Footsteps approached.
She had come again.
Her breath caught when she saw him — not in fear, but in something deeper. Something that made the air between them tighten.
Their eyes met.
And the world shifted.
It was not a gentle moment. It was sharp, electric, impossible. A spark that neither of them had asked for — but both felt.
He reached for his hood, shame burning through him. "This is why I hide."
She stepped closer, her breath unsteady, her eyes fixed on the face he had never meant for anyone to see. The fading light traced every scar, every ridge, every piece of him he had spent years hiding.
"Mandle…" she whispered, her voice trembling with something raw and unguarded.
He lowered his head, shame burning through him. "This is why I hide."
But she shook her head slowly, almost painfully, as if the truth inside her was too heavy to hold.
"No," she said softly. "This is why you shouldn't."
He froze.
Her gaze traveled over his face — not flinching, not recoiling, but absorbing every detail with a tenderness he had never known.
"I…" She swallowed, searching for words she had never spoken before. "I love the way you are."
The air tightened.
Not a confession of love — not yet — but something deeper, something beginning.
A truth she didn't fully understand, but felt with frightening clarity.
"Your scars," she whispered, "your strength… the way you carry yourself even when the world tries to crush you. I don't know why, but… I'm drawn to you."
Mandle's breath caught. His heart hammered painfully against his ribs.
"You shouldn't be," he said, voice barely audible.
"Maybe not," she replied, stepping even closer, her voice trembling with emotion she could no longer hide. "But I am."
Their eyes locked — and the spark between them ignited into something undeniable, something forbidden, something that neither of them had asked for but both felt pulling them together.
A spark that could ruin them.
A spark that could save them.
A spark that destiny had already claimed.