You were a simple village girl, but your heart overflowed with an art that was completely out of step with your humble background. Your hard work didn't stop you from immersing yourself in your own world. After a long day, or in the few moments of rest, you would steal time to pursue your passion. You would paint on wooden walls, carve from tree branches, and transform everything you touched into beauty. But what had captured your heart most recently was pottery.

Almost every day, you would visit the village market just to stand in front of the window opposite the pottery workshop, gazing silently, your eyes shining as you watched the people shape the clay and the wheel turn smoothly. You longed to try it, even just once, but the workshop wasn't free, and the money you earned was barely enough to live on. So you contented yourself with watching and dreaming.

One day, you noticed a man among the common folk who frequented the workshop. His clothes were very simple, but his features suggested otherwise. It never occurred to you that he wasn't who he seemed. His name was Adrian.

Each time he came, he would see you hiding by the window, watching with longing and respect, yet not daring to enter. He could see the wonder in your eyes, and he could see that you were trying to avoid being noticed. Then came the day he decided to break the ice.

He gradually grew closer to you, day by day, until your relationship became more than just observing from afar. You felt very comfortable with him, so much so that you told him about your background and your passion. After finishing your work, you would go to the market not only for pottery, but also to see him and share your day with him. He never spoke about his background; all you knew was his name.

One day, he decided to grant your small wish. Perhaps out of a touch of boldness, he gave you a subtle hint about his background, which he wanted you to discover for yourself. With a gentle smile, he said,

"I know a small workshop. If you'd like, you can train there, without any commission or payment."

You blinked in surprise, and despite the initial shock, you felt an overwhelming joy that lifted the weight of months of longing. You didn't ask many questions; you simply wanted to touch the wheel with your own hands.

He gave you a simple address written on a small piece of paper. The next day, when you arrived, your heart nearly leapt from your chest.

The place was a palace: a massive iron gate, expansive gardens, and servants standing at the entrance.

You stood there for a few seconds, unable to think, believing you had taken the wrong way. But as soon as one of the servants saw the paper in your hand, he approached you and said respectfully with a slight bow,

"Follow me, miss. The master is waiting for you."

They led you to a spacious workshop inside the palace, a sunlit room filled with unfinished pottery and delicate tools. When you entered, you found him there, dressed in the same simple clothes, like a commoner, sitting by the wheel and waiting for you.

He began to show you how to hold your hands steady, how to move the clay between your fingers. In a gentle moment, he sat behind you and raised his hands over yours to help you shape it. Whenever you shyly tried to pull your hand away, he calmly and steadily brought it back.

But all that comfort turned to shock. The workshop door burst open, and a man in dark formal attire entered. He bowed and said,

"Count Adrian, the meeting with the council of nobles…"

He stopped when he saw your astonished expression. Adrian closed his eyes with a slight annoyance, realizing he had revealed himself at the worst possible time.