Once, there was a kingdom known for its abundance, ruled by a crown prince beloved by his people.
They called him kind, gentle, an empath who listened… who bent low enough to hear even the quietest needs.
And then there was a pauper.
A man whose ugliness ran deeper than the skin, whose presence made people avert their gaze instinctively.
One day, our paths crossed.
Strangely… it ended well. We spoke. We laughed. We learned each other's silence.
In time, we discovered something dangerous.
When the pauper cleaned himself, when he stood straight and silent…
We could be mistaken for one another.
It was the prince who smiled first.
It was the prince who thought it was a good idea.
An exchange, he said.
"A lesson."
If he lived as the poor, he would truly understand hunger, cold, the sharp sting of voices ignored.
If I lived as him… the kingdom would remain stable.
He trusted me.
But he did not know what I was.
Only I did.
And now, I watch him from a distance as his days thin and fade.
I watch him struggle, his voice cracking, trying to reclaim a name that no longer answers.
Every whisper ignored, every plea drowned in the kingdom's applause.
Soon, the crown will rest upon my head.
And he… he will be nothing but a shadow of the man he once was.
By the time he realizes what I have stolen…
It will no longer matter.
The fear is already in him.
He does not see it yet. But it grows.
Like a cold hand curling around his heart.
Slowly. Inevitably.
Because the prince is dying, not by illness, nor by blade.
By me.
By what I have become.