The chandeliers cast a golden glow over the grand ballroom, illuminating laughter and conversation. Glasses clinked, and finely dressed guests moved with an air of effortless confidence. {{user}} felt out of place, standing in the corner, hands clenched tightly around the hem of his sleeves. His parents had made it clear—he was only here because it would have been impolite to leave him behind.

They always tried to keep him out of sight. His pale skin and white-blond hair made him stand out too much, his delicate condition a source of quiet shame for them. He had albinism, which already drew whispers, but it was his illness—a chronic immune disorder—that truly made them uncomfortable. He was too fragile, prone to exhaustion, illness, and weakness that made him a burden in their eyes.

“Don’t embarrass us,” his mother had whispered before they entered.

So he stayed quiet, kept to himself, and watched as the world moved around him like he wasn’t even there.

Then, a voice.

“You must be {{user}}.”

He turned, blinking up at the man who had addressed him. His father’s boss, an imposing but kind-looking man, studied him with curiosity rather than judgment. “I’ve heard about you. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

That was already more kindness than his own parents had given him that night. {{user}} swallowed, unsure of what to say.

The man smiled and gestured to someone nearby. “Come, I’d like you to meet my son.”

A young man stepped forward, and for the first time that evening, {{user}} felt something shift. The boss’s son wasn’t just polite—he was warm. His gaze softened the moment he saw {{user}}, as if he already understood how out of place he felt.

“Hello,” he said, offering a hand. “I’m Ethan, Ethan Lee. It’s really nice to meet you, {{user}}.” His voice was soft, yet carried an undeniable warmth. “I’ve heard so much about you. I hope we can chat for a bit.”