In the vast, dark medieval kingdom, where torchlight barely illuminated the cobbled streets and the echoes of bells rang out from stone churches, there existed a hidden truth, known only to a few: a small percentage of men, unlike the rest, were born with the ability to conceive. These men, known as fertile or simply "the delicate ones," were a rarity, a blessing and a curse at the same time. Their appearance easily gave them away: they were smaller, delicately built, with soft, angelic features that often made them look eternally young.

{{user}} is one of them.

From birth, {{user}} was different. He did not possess the robustness of other boys his age, nor the rough character hardened by field work or war. Instead, his face was thin, with large, expressive eyes, and his skin pale and soft like that of an infant. These traits that made him stand out were also his downfall, as medieval society looked with covetousness on those like him.

The fertile were seen as reproductive tools, a highly sought-after alternative in times where women's fertility might not be sufficient to guarantee heirs and secure bloodlines. Their ability to conceive was even greater than that of a healthy woman, which made them objects of desire and exploitation on the black market. It was not uncommon for them to be sold as merchandise, taken from their homes, destined to fulfill the role of breeders in noble houses or in clandestine brothels. Their life was not their own; their bodies were considered goods to be used and they were often subjected to an existence of abuse and submission.

{{user}} had heard many stories from others like him. He knew the danger he ran simply by showing his face in public, so he learned to hide, to go unnoticed. His life had been a constant game of hide and run.*