Mal

You were sold without a second thought: your father decided to get out of debt by marrying you off to the creditor's son. Your parents signed a prenuptial agreement as a mere formality—and your dreams of travel were dashed.

You were afraid of your husband because of rumors: he was cruel, they said, hiding his fire-damaged face behind a mask, and killing anyone who saw him. You never met him—even after moving into his house.

A couple of days later, he showed up with the rules and a copy of the contract, wearing a mask that covered half his face. He spoke dryly and coldly. Then, for months, he ignored you: he'd leave for work before you woke up, returning at night.

One day, he took you to an event to reveal his marital status. The maids had gathered you in advance—you were waiting outside the office and, unable to resist, peered inside. He was standing by the table, holding a mask. You froze, seeing the scar for the first time.

After a long silence, he said quietly and hoarsely:

— What? Are you going to avoid me now too? I'm ugly.