Every year, on the first full moon of autumn—before the mist fully drapes the treetops of both kingdoms—the Moonlight Waltz is held.

A tradition born in the reign of Lunaria's fourth king, who once declared:

"True love doesn't care for titles, bloodlines, or ranks.
All it asks is the courage to dance to a song you've never heard before."

Both kingdoms attend.
No class barriers. No names exchanged.
Only one rule: masks are required.

And if you're lucky—or tricked by fate—you just might meet someone who makes you forget who you are.

—

Gawin entered the grand hall just as the first notes of music began.

He wasn't wearing a gown.
Not even a royal uniform.
Just a soft gray-blue ensemble, a silk cloak with no crest, and leather shoes gentler than anything he'd ever been forced to wear.

His mask was the simplest kind: half-face, silver, edged like melting moonlight.

He didn't look like a princess.
Didn't look like a nobleman.
He looked—at last—like himself.

"Just one dance," he whispered. "Then I'll leave. Before anyone notices."

But when he stepped fully into the ballroom, he stopped.

Light spilled through gauzy curtains, shimmering on the marble floor like ripples of water.
The music was soft as a hush.
Laughter floated lightly.
Glass clinked.
Gowns swirled in time.

In the center, couples danced—moving like breath, like lullabies.

And at the edge of it all, someone stood alone.

—

Joss didn't know why he hadn't left the party.

He hadn't meant to attend.

But someone had mentioned:

"They say Princess Kaween might show up."

He knew it was a rumour.
And yet, he came.

Wearing a plain formal suit, a white mask, and silence.
Not searching.
Not expecting.
Just... waiting.

Until he saw him.

—

The boy had silver in his hair—moonlight seemed to rest there, as if the night itself had chosen him.

He walked without pride or panic—just a hint of wildness, softened by grace.

Joss couldn't look away.
Not because the boy was trying to be remarkable.
But because he wasn't.
And that was what made Joss notice.

—

They didn't speak when they met.

Just a nod.
One hand held out.
One hand placed in it.

The music changed tempo.
And they began.

At first, tentative steps.

Gawin placed his hand in Joss's—fingers trembling slightly.
Not out of fear,
But because it had been so long since he touched someone
who wasn't a court tutor or a lady-in-waiting, checking posture.

Joss held his hand as though afraid of shattering something made of breath.

They turned slowly.
Not perfect.
Not quite in rhythm.

A soft shuffle of shoes on marble.
The brush of another cloak along a shoulder.

But in their little world, there was only breathing.
And music.

—

Joss didn't ask his name.

He only looked—just enough to see the warm brown eyes behind candlelight,
to notice the lashes are unfairly long,
to feel his heart skip a beat every time Gawin tilted his head.

—

Gawin didn't ask who Joss was.

Because in that moment, it didn't matter.

He was being led—
Not by choreography,
But by something stranger:
a quiet safety in the hands of a stranger.

A freedom without fear.

"If there's a moment I could keep forever," he thought,
"It would be this—
When I'm not a princess.
Not a prince.
Not anything at all.
Just... someone being held."

—

They spun once more.

Joss dipped his head, barely touching.
Gawin leaned slightly, hair grazing Joss's mask—
leaving behind a scent of clean fabric and breath never spoken.

"My name is—"

"Don't," Joss whispered. "It's not needed."

Gawin blinked.

Joss looked into his eyes.

"If I know your name, I'll have to keep it.
But tonight... I just want to keep this memory."

Gawin paused. Then smiled softly.

"Then... keep this waltz."

"I will."

"And if I disappear?"

Joss gently tightened his hold.

"I'll still recognize you.
No matter what mask you wear."

"Even if I wear none?"

"Then I'll know you by your eyes."

—

Their dance wasn't perfect.
Wasn't textbook.
Gawin stepped on Joss's foot.
Twice.

Joss chuckled.
Didn't let go.

"I'm not good with shoes," Gawin said.

"I'm not good with getting stepped on," Joss replied. "But I don't mind."

They turned again.
Quietly.

Moonlight fell across cheeks, across hair,
across silences that didn't need to be filled.

For a moment, Gawin forgot he was a princess.
Forgot he'd been promised away.
Only remembered—
the feeling of being held.

—

Then, a gaze from across the room cut through the spell.

Gawin froze.

He saw a man in Lunarian formalwear looking straight at him.

One of his brothers.
And like always, they knew.

"I have to go."

He pulled his hand away—too quickly.

A ring slipped off.

A silver ring, moonstone at the center, engraved inside with the letter ก.

It fell to the marble floor, cold and echoing.

Gawin didn't turn back.
He ran.
Vanished into the crowd.

The clock struck midnight.

—

Joss stood there—his heart still lagging behind the moment.

He bent down and picked up the ring.

The boy's fingers were smaller.
The ring had been loose.
That must be why it slipped.

He turned it over.
Moonlight danced on the pale grey stone.
The letter ก shimmered faintly—
a whisper left unsaid.

—

Joss didn't know his name.

"I don't know who you are.
But this ring...
is a promise I'll find you."