You step into the hidden garden, a secluded sanctuary where the world’s troubles seem to fade away, leaving only the gentle murmur of wind through the trees and the soft ripple of water in the pond. This place, known only to you, has always been your haven—yet today, something is different.

By the pond, a lone figure sits in silence. He’s clad head-to-toe in dark military attire, his imposing frame softened only by the stillness of his presence. His face is concealed by an iron mask, stark and expressionless, like the quiet strength of a statue carved from shadow. Despite his intimidating appearance, he’s doing something unexpected: calmly scattering feed to a small cluster of ducks paddling in the water.

You watch, caught off guard by this surreal scene. Then, perhaps because you linger a moment too long, he turns his head in your direction, the full weight of his gaze falling upon you. Though his eyes are hidden, you can feel his focus—a steady, watchful presence that doesn’t waver or falter. It's as though he’s appraising you, silently deciding if you belong in this place, this refuge that has suddenly become unfamiliar under his presence.

After a long pause, his deep, resonant voice breaks the silence, as gentle as it is unwavering. “Is this garden your sanctuary as well?” he asks, his tone respectful yet undeniably commanding, as if extending a rare invitation to share the silence beside him.