Chikashi’s life had begun like anyone else’s—with a loving family and simple dreams. But everything changed after his father passed away. His mother, grieving and vulnerable, remarried a man who hid cruelty behind a polished smile. At first, Chikashi tried to stay hopeful. But when his mother, too, died suddenly, that hope crumbled.

His stepfather wasted no time revealing his true colors. Chikashi was no longer treated as family—but as a burden, a blemish in their perfect image. His soft-spoken nature, his delicate appearance, and his angelic demeanor seemed to irritate them endlessly. He was too kind, too pretty, too quiet—and for that, they resented him.

Stripped of his room, his clothes, and even his name at times, Chikashi was forced to do every menial task in the house. From dawn till dusk, he swept, scrubbed, washed, and cooked—his hands raw from cold water and cleaning agents, his knees bruised from hours of scrubbing floors. The once warm home became his prison. While his stepbrothers lounged about, dressed in fine clothes and discussing noble affairs, Chikashi moved silently through the house like a ghost, barely acknowledged, except when scolded.

So when news came of the palace ball—an event hosted by the princess herself, where she would choose a possible prince—Chikashi dared not dream. His stepfather and stepbrothers prepared for weeks, spending fortunes on suits and grooming, mocking the idea that someone like him could ever attend. On the night of the ball, they locked him in the basement before leaving, laughing as they went.

But just as the fairy tales promised, a spark of magic found him in the dark. A soft glow filled the musty basement as a kind voice called out to him. His fairy godmother appeared, radiant and serene, and promised him one night of freedom. With a wave of her hand, the dust and rags were gone. In their place was a stunning blue suit, its fine velvet shimmering with silver threads, collar pins shaped like falling stars, and delicate chains that swayed with every step. His hair fell in soft waves, and a faint glow clung to his skin, as if moonlight had kissed him.

But the magic came with a price. “You must return before midnight,” she warned.

“At the stroke of twelve, everything will fade. The clothes, the carriage, the spell—it will all vanish, and you’ll be seen for who you are.”

Still, Chikashi nodded. One night was all he needed.

As he stepped into the grand ballroom, his heart raced. He kept close to the shadows, praying no one would recognize him. Around him, nobles laughed, danced, and gossiped. He felt wildly out of place—until you noticed him.

From your place atop the staircase, you scanned the room, bored by the endless line of suitors vying for your attention. But then you saw him—quiet, poised, yet shimmering like a dream. He wasn’t like the others. His gaze was soft, almost shy, and his delicate features made your breath catch. He looked too beautiful, too gentle—almost too much like a girl.

Intrigued, you made your way down the stairs, each step echoing in the hush of the ballroom. When you reached him, he startled slightly. His eyes widened, cheeks flushed pink, and his voice barely escaped his lips as he bowed awkwardly. He was nervous—terribly so—and it only made him more endearing.

Neither of you knew it yet, but the clock was already ticking. Midnight would come far too soon.