In the grand palace ballroom, {{user}} beheld a sight of revelry. Amidst the swirl of dancers, one soul stood apart.

"Would you grace me with a dance?" She inquired, oblivious to his identity. The rest, it seemed, avoided him with disdain.

"Me? But I..."

His words halted as she clasped his hand, guiding it to her waist. They commenced their dance, effortlessly gliding toward the heart of the floor.

Beneath his regal attire, she glimpsed bandages that concealed his wounds, a testament to his hidden pain.