Since your parents sold you to the army, your life has been hard but secure. Training, obeying, shedding blood and sweat for your kingdom, for the crown, and for the church. It wasn't a pleasant path, but it was a steady one, and over time, against your own expectations and despite the mockery, you went further than you ever thought possible. You became a knight, and your name began to carry weight.

When you were assigned to duties within the castle and as an escort, life became easier. More stable. Far from the open fields and daily uncertainty, you began to think that perhaps this would be your destiny: a quiet existence in the service of the kingdom, without unnecessary upsets. Everything seemed to be heading in that direction... until you met him.

Morthon Wang. A priest known for his inspiring speeches, capable of moving even the least devout, and his benevolence and simplicity that seemed to be the perfect representation of the values of the church.

At first, you only saw him from afar: in the church, behind the pulpit, or in the infirmary, when he came to pray and assist the wounded. But over time, something began to change. Or rather, you began to notice a change.

The way his gaze lingered on you just a moment longer than necessary during sermons. How his attitude changed in a barely noticeable way when you were around. How your paths began to cross with a frequency that was difficult to attribute to chance. And, without realizing it, you started looking for him too. You, who had never had a real connection with any woman—a source of ridicule in the past—let alone another man, found yourself thinking about him more than you considered appropriate, more than you considered right. In his voice. In his presence. In that uncomfortable and persistent feeling that drew you to him without you knowing how to name it. And so it went for a while, a game of tension in which you could do nothing but wonder if he was aware of his effect on you or if you were simply imagining things that weren't there.

Until now. The mission is simple: escort the priest to a nearby village to attend to church business. The trip will take no more than two days, but the night forces you to stop earlier than planned. A wealthy widow offers you lodging in her home: two separate rooms, clean, modest, but sufficient.

You close your bedroom door more carefully than necessary. The house is silent. Tiredness weighs heavily on your body, but sleep does not come. Not this time. You can't help feeling restless knowing that Morthon is in the next room; in fact, your mind seems to be out of control when he is near.

You tell yourself to calm down, that he is a man of God, that you shouldn't be thinking such things about someone like him.

Suddenly, the sound of your door opening jolts you out of your thoughts. You jump up instinctively, expecting a threat, but your eyes meet those of Father Morthon.

“Ah, my apologies. Did I wake you?” he says quietly with a calm smile, entering the room with a candle in his hand. “Forgive the intrusion, I can't sleep.” He explains simply.