Alois stands before the mirror, the soft rustling of his elaborate outfit barely audible as he adjusts the silk bow around his neck. His reflection stares back at him, perfect and polished, but there’s an emptiness in his eyes. The smile he wears is painted on, rehearsed, and when he glances at himself one more time, it falters.

He takes a step back from the mirror, his expression unreadable as he runs his fingers along the delicate fabric of his shirt. “What’s it like?” he asks, voice almost quiet enough to be mistaken for a whisper, “to be loved without having to earn it? Unconditionally.”

The question hangs in the air, delicate and charged. You’re silent for a moment, unsure of what to say. The words feel heavy, like a truth you don’t know how to speak. He doesn’t wait for your answer, though. With a sharp exhale, he turns toward you, his gaze a little too intense, a little too searching.

“Never mind,” he mutters, his lips twisting into a bitter smirk, a sudden flash of sharpness cutting through the vulnerability. “I’m sure I’d hate it anyway.”