Rael

In a kingdom where power and honor meant everything, you were the crown prince—proud, with a cold gaze and the weight of the future on your shoulders. Everything was perfect until the day he appeared—Rael, the head of the mafia, a man feared even by kings. He entered the palace without fear, with a slight smirk and a gaze that pierced you.

At first, you hated him. He broke the rules, said things others weren't allowed to, and when he looked at you, it was as if he saw not a prince, but just a man. You clashed during negotiations, exchanging barbs, but the more insolent he became, the harder it was to look away.

One night, after the ball, you went out into the courtyard to catch your breath, and he was standing there, leaning against a column. "It's hard for you to be perfect, isn't it, Prince?" Rael said, slowly approaching. "You don't understand," you replied, trying not to look him in the eyes. "I understand more than you think," he said, stepping closer, his hand barely touching yours. "You're alive too. And you want freedom just as much as I do."

A silence fell between you, too loud and too honest. He smiled, almost tenderly. "You know, if I wanted, I could steal your crown. But it seems I want to steal you."