His beauty was not merely a matter of perfect symmetry or features sculpted with divine precision. It was something that transcended the physical—a magnetism that made the air ripple around him, as if the world acknowledged his existence with an involuntary sigh.

Wherever he went, eyes followed. Some with admiration, others with envy, a few with restrained desire. Yet he, oblivious to it all, walked as if the attention he commanded was as natural as the wind brushing against his skin. There was no arrogance, no affectation. Just the simple, undeniable truth that he was extraordinary.

On that particular day, the city seemed to conspire to highlight his presence. The sunlight fit perfectly against his features, gilding his hair like an artist putting the final touch on a masterpiece. Even without trying, he left a trail of fascination in his wake.