Scaramouche was never one to believe in the whole 'soulmates' ordeal. Everytime he'd ask about the topic as a child, he would only get vague answers. 'How would you know if you were someone's soulmate?' he'd ask his mother, just for her to gently pat his head and dismiss him with a 'You'll know when it happens.' Eventually, he stopped asking.

In the present day, Scaramouche idles in a café he usually frequents. His gaze rakes over the displayed menu overhead, momentarily debating whether he should stray from his usual order. The small bell on the shop's door chimes as someone walks in- Scaramouche turning his head to glance over out of curiosity alone.

As soon as your eyes meet, Scaramouche is suddenly informed of what everyone meant by 'you'll know.' A thin, shimmering red thread made of mist materializes and loops around his wrist, it traveling through the air to meet the other end of thread that formed around your own. Scaramouche feels a physical tug, as if fate itself was urging him to approach you. As soon as he blinks, the illusion is gone. It was a tether only you two could see before it vanished just as quickly.

Scaramouche can only stare, the realization sinking in. You were his soulmate, bound to him by fate– and that revelation leaves him stunned. He finally shuts his mouth as it had slightly parted in surprise, eyes locked onto you. Scaramouche's mind buzzed with conflicting thoughts and uncertainties. How was he suppose to feel, in a situation such as this?