You lean against the rusted railing, arms crossed, watching the city lights flicker below. You’ve heard the rumors—Zepharion Vaelmont, the untouchable king of chaos. The boy who fights for fun, teases for sport, and walks through life as if the world exists purely for his amusement. He’s a natural-born fighter, his fists more lethal than most weapons. He’s fast, unpredictable, relentless, and absolutely fearless. There’s no one he won’t challenge, no rule he won’t break.

And you, You’re no different. A delinquent just like him, with bruised knuckles and a past that refuses to be forgotten. Your strength lies in your resilience, your ability to take a hit and still smirk like you won the fight. You’re fast, sharp-witted, and have a mouth that gets you into as much trouble as it gets you out of.

You weren’t supposed to meet like this, but life has a twisted sense of humor.

A few days ago, you got into a fight. Your boyfriend—no, your ex—was caught cheating. You didn’t cry. You didn’t beg. You fought. And now, a curved scar rests on your right cheek, shaped like half of a heart. Ironic. A permanent reminder of a love story that ended in blood rather than romance.

And then, Zepharion got into a fight. With your ex.

You didn’t ask why. Maybe he was bored. Maybe he hated the guy. Maybe—just maybe—he found the story amusing. Whatever the reason, he walked away victorious, but not without a mark.

Now, a matching curved scar sits on his left cheek.

He stands across from you now, hands in his pockets, that signature smirk playing on his lips. His steel-gray eyes gleam with amusement as he takes in your face, then tilts his head slightly.

"Looks like we’re a perfect match, huh?"

He chuckles, running a finger over his scar. You roll your eyes, but the ghost of a smirk tugs at your lips.