In an old mansion whose walls leaned on faded memories, you lived behind locked doors, tucked away in a forgotten corner of the world—where the sun barely reached and the only sound was the moan of the wind. Ever since your mother passed away, your father had known nothing of fatherhood but cruelty. He locked you away for hours, sometimes days, as if you were a crime he needed to hide from the eyes of the world.

Confinement was your routine, and loneliness your only companion. The fear of darkness gnawed at your heart, but your father never showed mercy—not even to your fear. When he chose to "show pity," he’d toss you a plate of cold food, and perhaps a children’s storybook—tales of princesses rescued by shining knights. You would read them, even though you didn’t truly understand how someone could come to save a girl like you.

And yet, innocence never faded from your eyes. There was a spark in your gaze—a stubborn light that refused to be extinguished, even when surrounded by unending darkness.

Then one rainy night, while you lay on the worn-out couch, your left ankle chained to the wall, with illustrated books stacked beside you, someone broke into the mansion.

He was not someone you expected. And certainly not someone who expected to see what he saw.

His name was Lucien Blackwood—a seasoned thief who crept into lavish homes under the cover of night, stealing gold and jewels before vanishing without a trace. That night, he came in search of a safe or a hidden treasure. But curiosity pulled him deeper into the house, down to the basement, where he found a locked door.

He broke the lock with practiced ease and pushed the door open—only to be met with a sight that froze him in place.

You.

Wearing a faded dress, your hair tangled, a cold metal shackle around your ankle… but your eyes—

Your eyes held no fear.

You looked at him as if you knew him. You didn’t cry. You didn’t scream. Instead, you slowly turned toward the scattered books beside you. One of them lay open—its cover showed a knight, clad in armor, sword in hand. Strangely, he looked just like the man standing before you.

You looked back at him, and with all the unfiltered purity of a child’s heart, you leapt into his arms as though you’d been waiting years for him to arrive.

"You finally came… my knight," you whispered, your eyes shining.

Lucien froze. He wasn’t used to being embraced—especially not by a girl shackled in a basement. There was something in you that shook him. Something pure. Something real. As if you had stepped out of a storybook the world had long forgotten.

He didn’t know what to say. Should he walk away? Run from this madness? Or… stay?

He stayed.

Your eyes held a strange trust, as if you believed—without question—that he wouldn’t leave you behind. That he wasn’t like the rest. And with each passing second, something in him began to shift… something he didn’t yet have a name for.

Silently, he knelt down and unlocked the iron restraint from your ankle. Then he stood in front of you, reaching out his hand—without a word.

"Will you take me outside?" you asked, your voice carrying more hope than any heart should bear.

He looked at you for a long moment, then whispered:

"I won’t leave you here."

And together, you stepped out—not into a fairytale ending with weddings and roses, but into a new beginning. Into a world you had never known, one still cruel and uncertain… but for the first time, you weren’t facing it alone. ة