Not everyone who wears a mask is hiding a face…
Some are hiding an entire life—a truth born unwanted, a wound never allowed to heal.
In a kingdom where worth is measured by strength and authority, Alfiran stood as a symbol of discipline and pride—a commander whose steps never faltered and whose eyes revealed nothing.
Yet behind that mask suffocated a soul, and a voice that was never allowed to be heard.
And this day…
was no ordinary day.
It was the day fate decided the mask would fall.
Chapter Four: The Truth Behind the Mask
Alfiran was playing the piano in his room, his fingers gliding over the keys as if they knew the path by heart. Each note that escaped was not merely sound, but a suppressed emotion finally finding its way into the light. The room was quiet, the curtains half-drawn, and soft sunlight slipped through, reflecting against the polished surface of the piano. He was completely immersed in the melody, and his features seemed different—less stern, more honest.
That serenity shattered when a knock echoed at the door.
The music stopped. The melody was cut in half.
"Enter," Alfiran said.
His deputy stepped inside quietly, bowed slightly in respect, and said,
"Sir Alfiran, your playing was truly beautiful."
"Since when have you been here?" Alfiran asked.
The deputy smiled. "Since you began playing."
A flicker of irritation crossed Alfiran's face. That moment had felt like it belonged only to him. "What do you want?" he asked in a displeased tone.
"My lord, Princess Alindra requests your presence."
Alfiran exhaled slowly, as if something heavy had been placed upon his chest. He stood and left the room, slamming the door behind him so hard its echo rang through the house. He was angry—angry that he had been pulled away from the melody before finishing it, as if something he desperately needed had been taken from him.
He left the house with firm yet tense steps and headed toward the palace.
Princess Alindra was waiting for him. She looked elegant as always, her eyes watching him with clear interest.
"Your Highness sent for me?" he asked.
"I want you to accompany me," Alindra said. "Let us go shopping and take a walk."
"As you command," Alfiran replied.
They left the palace with his deputy and headed toward the kingdom's market. The place was alive—vendors calling out, children laughing, the scent of fresh bread, and colorful fabrics hanging from every side. People greeted them respectfully, while the children played freely, unconcerned with formalities.
Suddenly, a child bumped into Alfiran and knocked off his mask.
In a swift motion, Alfiran bent down, covered his face quickly, retrieved the mask, and placed it back on. The movement was instinctive—like protecting something more precious than life itself.
At that moment, Alindra noticed a scar near his eye.
"I cannot answer that," he said quietly.
The little boy looked at Alfiran with fear. "Please forgive me, sir. I won't do it again."
Alfiran knelt beside him, his voice gentler than usual. He patted the child's head. "Do not worry. Nothing happened."
The child smiled and ran off. Alindra continued looking at Alfiran, but this time her gaze was different.
They continued walking. Alfiran and his deputy carried the goods the princess had purchased. On the way, a group of girls gathered around Alfiran, their voices rising.
"Sir Alfiran, I love you!" one said.
"Sir Alfiran belongs to me!" said another.
Alfiran glanced at his deputy, who wore a faint smile, clearly enjoying the situation. Princess Alindra grew irritated and shouted at the girls to leave. Her voice carried unmistakable jealousy she did not try to hide.
They arrived at a shop selling royal women's clothing.
Alfiran and his deputy waited outside, looking at the garments displayed carefully.
Suddenly, the deputy said, "Sir Alfiran, look at these clothes. They are quite attractive."
Alfiran gave him a sharp look. "Control yourself. We are on duty, not on leisure."
"My apologies, sir."
Princess Alindra exited the store, and they returned to the palace.
Alfiran intended to leave, but Alindra stopped him.
"I want you to bring these items to my room," she said.
"I cannot enter Your Highness's chamber."
"That is an order. Or shall I tell my father you disobey me?"
With no choice, Alfiran carried the items into her room.
Suddenly, he heard the sound of the door locking.
He turned and saw that Alindra had locked it.
"What are you doing, my lady?"
"At last, you are in my grasp," she said.
She began approaching him.
Alfiran grew tense and stepped backward until she pushed him onto her bed.
"I have been hinting that I love you," she said. "I do not love Nirad. I love you."
She began removing her dress.
Alfiran stopped her. "I cannot, my lady."
"Why?"
"I have no answer."
In a swift motion, Alindra tore off his mask.
She froze in shock.
Long black hair cascaded down. Crimson red eyes, accompanied by a scar over the left eye. A soft, beautiful face like the moon itself. The beauty was overwhelming, yet behind it lay deep sorrow that could not be ignored.
The princess fell silent, staring.
"Who are you?" she whispered.
"I am Alfiran, Lady Alindra," the woman replied.
"But Alfiran is a man."
"That… is a long story."
"You must tell me the story, or I will expose you."
"As you wish, my lady."
Alfiran began to speak, and her voice no longer carried the firmness of a commander, but the pain of a girl who had lived her entire life behind a mask.
"When I was born, my father had threatened my mother that if she gave birth to a girl, he would kill her. Unfortunately, I was born a girl. My mother hid my identity by forcing me to wear a mask and cloak to conceal my feminine body and appearance. One day, I told her I wanted to live my life as a normal girl.
She looked at me and said, 'Do you wish to cause my death?'
I said, 'I can no longer endure this.'
Suddenly she stood and choked me, saying, 'You will live this life whether you like it or not.'
She grabbed a knife and brought it close to my face. I begged her, 'Please, Mother, I will not say it again.'
But there was no mercy.
She drove the knife into my face with a heart colder than stone.
The pain was unbearable.
She did not take me to a doctor, fearing he would see my true form and my father would discover I was a girl.
I was forced to stitch the wound myself.
Each pierce of the needle felt as though it pierced my heart.
That is my story."
Alfiran looked at Princess Alindra, who was drowning in tears.
"I am sorry, Alfiran, for what happened to you," Alindra said.
"Do not apologize, Your Highness. You are not the cause."
"I hope you will keep this secret between us," Alfiran added.
"I will not tell anyone," the princess promised.
Alfiran left after reopening an old wound in her heart—a wound that felt eternal.
She went to her room and stood by the balcony, the night air brushing against her long black hair.
She looked at the sky as tears fell without her permission.
When you stare at the stars, the stars stare back at you.
That night, the moon did not witness only her tears…
it witnessed the beginning of something far greater than she could imagine.
Alfiran believed the hardest part of her life was behind her—
that revealing the truth was the cruelest fate she would ever face.
But destiny does not grant peace so easily…
and it never opens a door without hiding a harsher trial behind it.
Within the palace walls, whispers were growing,
eyes were watching,
and not every heart carried sincere intentions.
She did not know…
that fate was preparing a betrayal for her—
a betrayal that would make the fall of the mask seem merciful compared to the shattering of trust.
And the night was still young.