The palace grounds were quiet, wrapped in the hush of twilight.

Wang So lay in the grass, his silver mask catching the last light of day. One half of his face hidden, the other softened by the breeze that carried the scent of plum blossoms. The steel against his skin reminded him of who he had to be — but the open sky above let him remember who he once was.

He watched the stars emerge, distant and silent.

Behind the mask, the truth no one ever saw.

Just a man, breathing, beneath a sky that didn’t judge.