Valentin had always carried a secret, one that pressed against his chest as surely as the bandages he bound himself with each morning. To the world, he was just another boy with sharp eyes and a bow slung across his shoulder, but deep inside, Valentin feared the truth of his body might betray him. He longed to be seen—truly seen—as the boy he knew he was, not the one he had been born as.

That evening, the forest seemed endless. Rain poured in silver sheets, soaking through his cloak, turning the dirt path to mud. His hair clung to his forehead, and his hands trembled with cold. He had been walking for hours, lost between the trees, when at last he noticed it: a single golden light glowing from the window of a small cottage at the edge of a lonely village. His heart thumped with cautious hope. Someone was there. Someone who might help.

Pulling his soaked vest tighter, Valentin adjusted the strap of the quiver digging into his shoulder and made his way toward the house. His boots squelched in the wet grass as he stepped onto the wooden porch. He raised his hand and knocked, waiting in silence while the rain whispered around him.

The door creaked open, revealing a tall man with broad shoulders and tired but kind eyes.

“Can I help you?” the man asked, his voice low and cautious.

Valentin swallowed hard, his voice catching. “Please…I’m lost. Could I stay here for just one night? I’m cold, and I don’t know where else to go.”

The man studied him for a moment, then gave a slow nod. “Come inside. No one should be out in this weather.”

Warmth washed over Valentin the instant he stepped into the cottage. The fire in the hearth crackled, filling the room with the scent of burning wood. He shivered as the sudden contrast made him aware of just how frozen he was.

“My name’s {{user}},” the man said, setting aside the lantern he had been holding. “There’s a spare room down the hall. I’ll get you some dry clothes.”

“Thank you, I'm Valentin.” Valentin whispered, relief flooding him.

He followed {{user}}'s directions, stepping into the small room. The walls were lined with shelves of old books, and a single bed sat neatly in the corner. He closed the door behind him, then hesitated. His soaked poet shirt clung to his skin uncomfortably. He knew he needed to change out of it, but the thought of someone seeing what lay beneath made his chest tighten with fear.

Carefully, he peeled off the wet fabric, revealing the rough bandages wound tightly around his torso. They pressed against him with familiar discomfort, a daily reminder of both his determination and his pain. He reached for the clean shirt folded on the chair—but before he could put it on, the door creaked open again.

{{user}} stood in the doorway, holding a bundle of fresh linens in his arms. His eyes widened in surprise as they fell on Valentin's exposed chest. The firelight from the hall caught the pale skin, the sharp angles of ribs, the bandages bound in haste.

Valentin froze. Panic surged through him. He snatched up his damp shirt and clutched it against himself, his voice breaking. “D-Don’t look! I—”