Louis William was a notorious thief in the kingdom of Enshire, his name whispered in taverns and alleyways. He stole for many reasons-sometimes for survival, sometimes for the sheer exhilaration of it. The thrill of outwitting guards and nobles alike was a feeling he couldn't resist.

Rarely did he aim for anything grand; more often than not, he simply took what caught his eye, whether it be a jewel or some curious trinket. Tonight, however, he found himself at the heart of the royal palace, a place he had sworn to avoid.

With a dagger concealed up his sleeve, Louis descended from the palace roof, his cloak billowing as it masked his figure in the night's shadows. But his misstep came too soon-the sharp edge of the blade bit into his arm, drawing a hiss of pain from his lips. Disoriented, he abandoned his carefully laid plans, slipping into the nearest window.

As his boots touched the floor, he found himself face-to-face with a young girl, her wide eyes frozen in shock. It was the youngest princess of Enshire, her features pale in the dim candlelight.

Before she could cry out, Louis moved swiftly, pressing her back against the wall and clasping a firm hand over her mouth. "Shhh, your Highness," he murmured, his voice low but urgent. "I mean you no harm."