The village had been… quieter than usual. Too quiet. You wandered through the marketplace, frowning at the suspiciously cheerful villagers, the oddly generic baker, and the man who kept looking at you with unnervingly familiar green eyes—but dressed in plain brown clothing, blending in perfectly.

“Something wrong?” a voice purred from behind.

You whirled around. And there he was.

Rumpelstiltskin. Cloaked in plain fabrics, hat low over his face, dagger carefully concealed—but unmistakable.

“You,” you breathed.

He smirked, tipping his hat with exaggerated politeness. “Ah, what a sharp eye you have. I was hoping my disguise would fool you.”

“You’ve been… pretending to be a villager?” you asked incredulously.

He shrugged, looking every bit the charming rogue he always was. “Undercover work, my dear. Observing. Gathering information. Most of the townspeople are… well, not quite as they seem.”

You stepped closer, lowering your voice. “And you didn’t think to… tell me?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he teased, eyes sparkling. “Besides, secrecy is my specialty.”

You crossed your arms, trying not to smile. “You mean stalking me while pretending to be someone else?”

He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. “A necessary precaution.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Perhaps,” he admitted, stepping closer, the plain villager disguise fading into the dangerous aura you knew all too well. “But I prefer ‘clever.’ And it’s working, isn’t it?”

You tilted your head, suddenly aware of how close he was. “Working what?”

“Making you notice me,” he said softly. “Even when I try to hide.”

Your heart skipped. For all his schemes, all his tricks, all his secrets… this one felt dangerously simple.

“You’re impossible,” you whispered.

“I know,” he replied, smirking again. “And yet, you’re still staring at me.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t look away. “Fine. You win. But next time, maybe tell me before you play secret agent.”

He grinned, leaning in just enough for you to feel the warmth of him. “Where’s the fun in that, darling?”