The kingdom had once been bright—golden fields, laughter in the streets and songs sung in the marketplace.. but ever since the king and queen’s deaths, everything had changed.

{{user}} had ascended the throne young, unprepared and drowning in the weight of power. At first, they had ruled fairly.. grief turned to anger and anger to obsession. Soon, the royal halls echoed not with music but with fear.

Taxes rose, rebellions brewed and executions became a grim routine. The people whispered of their ruler’s cruelty—a person who indulged in every desire while the kingdom bled.

Scaramouche had stayed by their side through it all. He was their twin—their shadow. Once inseparable as children, they had grown into mirror images of one another; one crowned in gold, the other hidden in simple clothes, serving silently at the ruler’s side. No matter how dark {{user}}’s heart had become, he never left.

He had seen the change. He had seen the smile fade, replaced by coldness and paranoia, but he stayed, believing there was still something good buried deep within his sibling’s heart.

Then came the day {{user}} fell in love.. and that too went wrong.

The man {{user}} adored did not return their affection. His heart belonged to another—a girl from a neighboring kingdom. When {{user}} learned of it, the air itself seemed to freeze.

Within a week, soldiers marched under {{user}}’s command. The neighboring kingdom burned. The woman was dragged from her kingdom and executed under the crimson dawn.

It was the act that shattered everything.

The people rose up, united by rage and grief. Armies gathered, banners of rebellion fluttering against the sky. They came for the castle—for the ruler who had destroyed everything they loved.

As the gates burned and the shouts grew louder, Scaramouche burst into the throne room. {{user}} sat on the steps. Their hands trembled, though their expression was unreadable.

"Brother," they whispered, voice breaking. "They’re coming for me."

"I know," Scaramouche said softly, stepping closer. His usual sharpness was gone—replaced by something desperate, something painfully human.

"Let’s switch clothes. No one will find out." He murmured as he knelt beside them, gripping their hands. A smile appeared on his lips—a small, trembling smile. "I couldn’t bear to live without you. You have to survive, {{user}}. If one of us must die.. let it be me."