Author - d3adiva
Everything created by d3adiva
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"You clung to belief like a fragile thread — unaware that every lie needs a truth to hide beneath."
^-^
In a small village wrapped in familiarity, a tall boy walked through the dusty path like the world belonged to him. His hair shimmered a pale gold — so bright, so soft-looking, it seemed unreal, as if spun from sunlight itself. His eyes were deep green, like a forest lived inside them. A small, straight nose, a few freckles dotted over pale skin — sun-kissed just enough to give him an angelic glow. He wore a black suit with a long brown coat that draped off his shoulders with graceful arrogance.
As he passed, villagers greeted him. Children waved. A few women stopped their chatter just to stare at him — even though they saw him every day.
This was VERIN.
He returned their smiles, waved back at the children, like he belonged to them all.
"Verin!" someone called.
He turned. It was Ethan, his friend. Verin smiled and lifted his hand in greeting. Ethan jogged over, and they began walking together.
"Hey," Ethan said. "Did you hear about the new guy who moved into town?"
"No," Verin said casually. "Why?"
"I heard he's cold. Brutal."
Verin raised a brow. "Cold and brutal?"
"Yeah. That's what people are saying."
"What's his name?"
"I think it's Silas."
Verin repeated the name under his breath. "Silas…"
"Yeah. Poor guy. People already hate him like they've known him forever," Ethan said with a sigh.
"Hate him? Why?"
"I don't know, man. They say he's heartless. Too blunt."
Verin didn't answer. His curiosity had already taken hold. The rest of their walk passed in silence.
---
Later, Verin reached the school where he taught — teenagers mostly, though sometimes younger kids, too. He was the village's favorite teacher. Reliable, charming, and effortlessly kind. At least… on the outside.
After finishing class, just as he stepped outside the school gate, a voice stopped him.
"Hey. Are you the teacher — Verin?"
The voice felt strange. Calm, but heavy.
He turned around — and paused.
The boy standing there was shorter than him. Brown hair with soft waves. Pale skin, even paler than Verin's. Sharp, doe-like brown eyes. A small, symmetrical nose. Cupid-bow lips that seemed unreal in their perfection. The kind of face you'd expect from a statue, not a person.
Verin found himself staring.
The boy snapped his fingers. "Hello? I'm talking to you."
Verin blinked, breaking out of his trance. "Yes. I'm Verin."
The boy gave a curt nod. "Nice to meet you. Can I enroll my cousin in this school?"
"Of course. What's the name?"
"Evelyn," he answered flatly.
"Her?" Verin asked, blinking.
The boy's tone turned colder. "Yes. Is that a problem?"
"No, no. I was just surprised," Verin said quickly, covering it with a practiced smile.
The boy didn't smile back. His eyes narrowed. "I heard you beat students. I also heard there were harassment cases in this school."
Verin kept his smile. "You don't need to worry. I promise you, nothing will happen to your cousin. And no — I don't beat students."
The boy didn't look convinced. But he nodded. "Okay, then."
And he walked away.
Verin watched his back disappear into the distance — and sighed.
----
As Verin walked home, a group of women in modest gowns approached him, laughing among themselves.
"Verin!" one of them called. "Tell us how we look!"
Verin gave a smile so dazzling it could melt butter. "So beautiful, the moon would weep just meeting you all. And where are you going, dressed like royalty?"
One of the women giggled and teased, "We're headed to the ball! You should come. My daughter will be there too~"
Verin scoffed internally.
Oh, not this again…
But outwardly, he smiled like a prince. "Really? Then sure, I'll come."
He waved them goodbye and headed home.
—
The moment he stepped inside, his eyes swept the spotless floor.
"Again?" he muttered to himself with a smirk.
They really think cleaning my house will convince me to marry them. Keep dreaming.
Still… free maid service isn't bad.
His house was far larger than a single man needed — a two-story structure with vintage charm. It had a well-lit kitchen and dining area, a cozy living room, two guest rooms, three bathrooms on the first floor. Upstairs: three spacious bedrooms, each with its own bathroom. Back in the day, such a house was a treasure.
Verin collapsed onto the couch. Exhausted from teaching, flattered (but bored) by constant marriage proposals. Yet, his thoughts drifted — not to the women, but to the boy.
That boy. Silas.
Verin shook his head, sighing. Then, he dragged himself up to bathe and get ready.
He didn't want to go to the ball — but appearances mattered.
He dressed in a deep navy-blue suit embroidered with fine silver thread along the collar and cuffs. The long coat he wore was black velvet with silver patterns running down the edges, like frost. He wore black gloves, polished boots, and a brooch shaped like a winged quill on his chest. He looked like a prince carved from charm itself.
The king from the next village invited everyone. Trying to win us over. Hah.
Not if I can help it.
He looked in the mirror one last time, smiled at his reflection, and headed out. The evening was cool, so he chose to walk. Someone else would drive him home later anyway.
—
As he entered the castle hall, every eye turned to him. He smiled, effortless and gracious, as he moved through the crowd. After a while, the king arrived with his family. As expected, the king offered his daughter's hand to Verin for a dance.
Verin declined politely, bowing slightly. "She's too beautiful for me to touch."
A lie. But a charming one.
The queen smiled warmly. "Oh, dear… You're too pure for this world."
Verin gave a humble nod. "Of course, Your Majesty."
A few minutes later, the queen added cheerfully, "When the group dancing starts, you must join in, alright?"
"Certainly, Majesty," Verin said with a smile, then excused himself for the washroom.
—
As he entered, the door to one of the stalls opened. And out stepped Silas.
He was dressed in a charcoal-gray suit with subtle dark red stitching along the seams, tailored to perfection. His coat was shorter — only waist-length — but fitted tightly, emphasizing his lean form. A red pendant hung at his neck, drawing attention to his collarbones. He looked... intense. And quietly dangerous.
Their eyes met.
Verin smiled. "You look sharp."
Silas only nodded, then washed his hands and left without a word.
---
Later, the dance began. Couples swirled across the floor, changing partners every few moments. It was tradition.
When it came time for Verin to switch partners, he surprised everyone — including Silas — by reaching out not for the girl in front of him, but for Silas.
Without touching him, Verin led him into the dance.
No contact. No words.
They moved together like they were meant to. Not touching — not out of formality, but something deeper. Respect? Fear? Reverence?
Verin didn't touch Silas… because he was afraid he might taint him.
Silas didn't touch Verin… because he didn't want to pretend closeness he didn't feel.
After a few graceful steps, the music faded.
Verin bowed. Silas turned and walked away.
But this time, Verin followed.
"Wait."
Silas stopped. Slowly turned.
Verin looked into those unreadable eyes and asked, "What's your name?"
A pause.
Then the boy answered quietly.
"…Silas."
He left again — without looking back.
Verin stood in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by people… and felt something strange in his chest.
Not longing. Not love.
Just an ache for someone who didn't smile back.
- To be continued -