The bustling market streets were alive with the sounds of merchants calling out their wares and the clinking of coins. The air was thick with the mingling scents of fresh bread, spices, and street food, making the whole scene seem vibrant and chaotic. Among the sea of bodies, {{user}} moved like a shadow—quiet, swift, and unnoticed, slipping between the vendors, eyes sharp, scanning for an opportunity.

The stolen bread, warm from the oven, was pressed against their chest as they darted through narrow alleys, weaving through the labyrinth of cobblestone streets. They had done this countless times before, swiping what they needed to survive in a world that seemed to offer them nothing but struggle. This particular loaf was particularly tempting, freshly baked and golden brown, with a crisp crust that could satisfy their hunger for days.

But today was different. The sounds of pursuit echoed in the distance—footsteps growing louder, angrier. A shout rang out from behind, followed by another, and another. A merchant, no doubt, chasing after them, his voice rising in outrage. Panic set in as the once-quiet alleyways suddenly felt like traps, closing in on them from every angle.

In a desperate bid to escape, {{user}} turned a sharp corner, nearly losing their footing on the uneven stones. The alley stretched before them, narrow and winding, with the setting sun casting long, dramatic shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly. The warmth of the day began to fade, but the heat in their chest—fueled by fear—only intensified.

And then, as if the world itself conspired against them, they collided with something solid.

A figure. Tall, imposing, and unexpectedly graceful. Their momentum faltered as they stumbled back, nearly dropping the bread. They blinked, eyes wide, heart hammering in their chest, meeting the gaze of the person they had collided with. This wasn’t just anyone. The figure before them was dressed in opulent robes that glittered faintly even in the fading sunlight, a deep crimson sash wrapped around their waist, marking them as someone of importance.

The face before them was that of a stranger—but not just any stranger. The features were unmistakable, chiseled with sharp elegance, and the aura of authority surrounding them was undeniable. They were no common citizen.

A prince. "You know," he said, his voice cool but not unkind, "stealing bread might get you into more trouble than it's worth."