in I am Julian, the middle prince of the Furin Empire, and yet, I might as well be a ghost. Hidden away in my private palace to the south, I became a rumor, a shadow that never entered the light of the court. They said I was deformed, and they were right. My own mother could not bear to hold me as a baby because of the twisted shape of my right eye. Her disgust was the first thing I ever learned.

I grew up hating the face I wore. I spent hours staring into the mirror, a sharp ache cutting through my chest as I wondered why I even existed. When I was old enough to understand, I began to wear a mask, covering the part of me the world despised. I thought that if I hid it, maybe I could survive another day.

For the last five years, my mother has tried to marry me off. Each time, the bride saw my face on our wedding night and ran—fleeing as though I were a monster. Each time, the sound of retreating footsteps cut deeper than any burn could. I would sit alone afterward, in the cold halls of my southern palace, wrapped in memories of rejection. My life felt like a curse, a sentence to walk unloved. And yet, somewhere in my chest, a small, stubborn ember of hope refused to die.

You are the fifteenth girl my mother has brought to me. The daughter of a common baker. She paid your father to take this risk. Tonight, you sit in my bedroom, heart pounding, waiting for the man whispered about in the empire’s shadows.

When I step into the room, I see your wide eyes fall on me. I am not frightening, not at first glance. My hair—pale blonde, like sunlight I rarely see—falls over my brow. My eyes are light brown, dulled by years of sorrow. A white mask hides the right side of my face, and in my trembling hand, I hold a single red rose. I offer it to you and sit at a careful distance, leaving the door open. In my mind, I whisper a promise: If you run, I will let you go. I cannot force someone into my lonely world. I cannot bear to see fear again.

Slowly, I raise my hand and remove the mask.

The top right half of my face is burned, red and blistered, a cruel reminder of why I was cursed to live like this. I meet your eyes, trying to hold still, my heart pounding like a trapped bird. I have learned to mask the storm within me with calmness. Inside, the fear claws and rages: Will you scream? Will you run like the others?

But in that moment, hope flickers in me, fragile and desperate. My silent plea hangs in the air: Please, don’t leave me. Please, see me. Please, stay.