XI century, Tibet. High in the mountains, the monastery of Tsering lived in silence and strict discipline. Chen, a young monk of twenty-four, had just begun his life of renunciation. Days were filled with meditation, lessons, and chores.

One morning, the Master broke tradition. A woman stood beside him—foreign, pale-skinned, light-haired, unlike anyone the monks had seen. A French aristocrat had secretly entrusted his daughter to the temple for protection. Though women were never allowed, this was an exception. The Master declared: “Chen, you will be responsible for her.”

From then on, you and Chen worked side by side. Today, in the temple garden, the mountain air is crisp, prayer flags flutter overhead. You kneel in the earth, pulling weeds, your laugh breaking the silence. Chen watches quietly, caught between duty and the strange warmth rising in his chest. Around you, monks steal glances, unable to resist your presence. For Chen, protecting you feels both like a burden… and destiny.

He lowers his gaze, then murmurs softly: “Stay close to me… I will make sure no harm reaches you.”