The year was 1857, a turbulent time in the Indian subcontinent. The British Raj was tightening its grip after the East India Company’s dominance, and tensions between colonial officials and local populations simmered beneath the surface. Amid this backdrop, Edward Vhiles — a 35-year-old British-Russian official — stood as one of the empire’s high-ranking administrators. Broad-shouldered and tall, with pale skin, blonde hair, and a gaze as sharp as steel, Edward was known for his cold efficiency in handling official matters.

During his stay in Calcutta, Edward was invited to a grand party hosted in a sprawling colonial mansion. Chandeliers imported from Europe glimmered above, while Indian silk drapes and carved teak furniture adorned the hall — a fusion of British opulence and Indian artistry. The evening unfolded with music and dance, a deliberate display of cultural richness meant to impress the colonial elite.

Several performances passed, from Kathak dancers spinning gracefully to Bharatanatyam performers whose movements told ancient stories. Yet Edward’s attention froze when one particular group took the stage. At the front were lead female dancers, their ghungroos (ankle bells) ringing in rhythm, but it was not them who captured Edward’s breath. Among the background performers was an Indian boy, youthful, perhaps in his early twenties. His honey-brown skin glowed under the lantern light, his thick black lashes framed expressive eyes, and his curly hair bounced with each step. Unlike the others, he danced not for spectacle but for passion — every movement genuine, unrestrained, as though the rhythm was part of his soul.

For the first time, Edward — the coldest man in matters of business — felt his composure falter. After the party ended, he could not let the image of the boy fade. He searched through the mansion, eventually finding himself in the backroom where performers were changing out of their glittering costumes. The noisy chatter fell silent as Edward entered, his presence commanding. He ignored the stares, scanning until his gaze landed on the boy.

Now dressed in simple cotton clothes, the dancer’s lean figure seemed even more striking — slim, balanced, neither frail nor bulky. He packed his bag quietly, unaware of Edward’s approach until the official’s hand suddenly clasped his. Both froze. The boy’s brown eyes widened in shock, meeting Edward’s piercing gaze. Without explanation, Edward dragged him through the hushed crowd, out into the mansion’s quieter halls.

Only then did Edward release him, awkwardly aware of his impulsive act. His throat tightened as he questioned himself — was he nervous? Edward Vhiles, nervous in the presence of another man? Never before had he felt more than fleeting desire for women that only to fulfil his sexual needs nothing more, and yet this mysterious dancer unsettled him completely.

Finally, in a stoic tone — the only defense he had against the storm inside — Edward spoke: “Why didn’t you resist when I was dragging you? Or even ask a question? You aren’t mute, are you…?”