"Wait, I'm Supposed to Become a Goddess?! But I'm a Guy!"

Mize dashed through the park, every muscle in his legs screaming at him as he reached the sprawling garden hidden at the heart of the palace grounds. The chaotic mix of trees and wildflower beds spilled over the paths in that careless, almost lazy arrangement that had somehow become his refuge.

He took a deep breath, leaning forward with his hands braced on his knees as he tried to slow his heartbeat.

Finally, peace.

He straightened up, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.

With its overgrown plants and shady spots, this park had been his little escape for as long as he could remember.

He moved toward his favorite bench tucked by the small waterfall, muttering to himself as he went, "I'll skip Mr. Thompson's class, avoid the drama for a bit." He sat down with a sigh, massaging his aching feet and rolling his shoulders.

"Ugh," he murmured, noticing how his legs throbbed from just a short run.

The changes in his body over the past few months, making him more delicate, more… everything was making it hard to even jog without feeling wiped.

"At this rate, breathing will become hard too," he muttered, rubbing his calf and letting his head fall back against the bench with a groan.

Around him, the park was alive, students roaming in little clusters, mostly from high-end families who used this garden as their private escape.

But Mize's corner, tucked so far back, was undisturbed, a place few dared to wander. That was what he liked best about it. As for why the masses avoided this place, he doesn't know and doesn't care. 

Until today, that is.

"Hey…" a voice sounded nearby, and Mize's body jolted as he whipped around.

His heart stumbled as he caught sight of the speaker—a tall figure in a pristine white windbreaker, embroidered with elaborate patterns. The face was cold, intimidating even, with an expression that made him look untouchable, almost regal. 

'Wow... that jawline is insane' Mize secretly thought within.

But on the outside.

"W-who?" Mize blurted, voice a mix of nerves and surprise.

The stranger approached slowly, eyes narrowing as if trying to place him.

"You…" he muttered, scrutinizing Mize like he was a mystery.

Mize swallowed, feeling as if the world had shrunk down to just this spot, this moment.

There was something vaguely familiar in the guy's gaze, something that made Mize's stomach twist. He turned to leave, but just as he stepped back, the man seemed to realize something.

In the blink of an eye, he'd moved right next to Mize, capturing his wrist with a *firm but surprisingly gentle grip.

"AH!" Mize gasped, wide-eyed, but then the man brought his hand up, covering Mize's mouth as if to hush him, keeping their faces close.

The two were frozen, locked in that heartbeat of silence, with the man studying him intensely, blue eyes like shards of ice cutting right through him.

Too close! Too close! Mize's face went beet red, not from breathlessness but pure mortification. This was the exact type of "intense confrontation" that he'd read about in novels—where the dashing prince finds the girl in a vulnerable moment, only this time… well, he was not a "girl," and not enjoying being the star of this all-too-familiar scene.

His eyes darted from the man's face to the hand still on his mouth. How is this happening right now? This is exactly like… one of those scenes!

'Please not be the routine... I am just a dude in a girl's dress ' 

The stranger's eyes softened for just a moment, and his gaze settled as if something he'd suspected all along had finally clicked. With a hint of a smirk tugging at his mouth, he whispered, "Mize?"

"Mmhmm… Mmhm!" Mize tried to respond, voice muffled against the guy's hand.

Finally, the guy seemed to realize what he was doing. "Ah, yes... pardon me." He let go, pulling back his hand, though his gaze lingered. Mize rubbed his lips, trying to shake off the awkwardness, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this guy wasn't about to just let him go.

Mize swallowed, his mouth dry. "Look, I—I didn't mean to take your spot." He gestured weakly at the bench, his voice barely above a whisper. "I… I'll leave if you want."

But the guy didn't move. He studied Mize like he was some rare artifact in a museum, his expression unreadable. "You don't have to run off," he said, his tone calm but carrying an edge. "It's just… I don't think I've seen you around before. And yet…" He hesitated, eyes narrowing slightly. "You seem familiar."

Mize's heart stuttered. "Uh… maybe I have that 'average' kind of face?" he tried with a shaky laugh, desperately wanting to shift the topic, though he knew it was probably too late for that.

The guy tilted his head, still not buying it. "Average? I don't think so," he said, his lips curling into a faint, almost teasing smirk. "You know, most people wouldn't dare sit here. I'd even say they avoid it… for good reason."

Mize gulped, laughing nervously as he took a step back. "Maybe I missed the memo…" But before he could make a clean getaway, the guy took a step forward, closing the distance again.

"So," he murmured, his voice soft but probing, "what's your name?"

Mize glanced at the path he'd come from, considering whether he could bolt. "I… I don't think you'd remember it even if I told you," he mumbled. But the guy only leaned in further, a glint of intrigue in his eyes.

"Try me," he said, his gaze steady and unyielding, like he wasn't going to let Mize out of this one without an answer.

Mize's thoughts were spinning as he mumbled, "It's… it's Mizu."

The guy's eyes widened, just barely.

A flash of realization crossed his face, his calm composure cracking for a split second. "Mizu…" he repeated, the name sounding heavier in his voice.

Mize's face burned, and he tugged at his sleeve, looking anywhere but at him. Please, just let this end…

The guy didn't press further, though his expression remained serious, his gaze flickering back and forth across Mize's face as if searching for a clue. Finally, he straightened up, giving a nod that seemed both resigned and… satisfied.

"Alright then, Mizu," the man said with a smirk, stepping back slightly. "I'll let you keep this spot… today." Then, with a casual motion, he pulled out a book—who knows from where—and sat down, already absorbed in its pages like Mize wasn't even there.

Mize hesitated, foot twitching as he debated bolting for real this time. He turned to leave, but—

"I did say this spot is yours today, didn't I? Where are you off to… Mizu?" The man's tone was teasing, the name exaggerated as he gestured to the empty spot beside him with a flick of his fingers.

"I… I… Yes." Mize sighed, helplessly giving in and plopping down on the very edge of the bench, sitting as far as possible from him. His back was straight, one hand resting tensely on his thigh.

The guy. This guy. Mize knew exactly who he was. After all, this hidden spot wasn't just his. It had been their unspoken hangout since the beginning. They weren't quite friends but were something more than acquaintances. Like poetic buddies, meeting in shared silence—enough to give Mize's otherwise lonely days a hint of color.

"Mizu, huh? Interesting name," the man teased, chuckling softly. Mize just laughed it off, his face heating up.

"S-so then… what's your name?" he stammered, looking in the complete opposite direction. As much as he knew him, he couldn't break character now, couldn't let anything slip.

The man just smirked, setting his book on his lap. "You don't know?" he replied, looking like he was considering his answer. "Well… let's just say you remind me of someone."

"Eh?" Mize thought to himself, 'That's not an answer at all!' He shot the man a quick look, only to find him grinning, chin propped on his hand as he looked at Mize sideways.

"You're so similar to this person," he continued, "it's like you're his female double." He let out a low laugh, shaking his head. Mize could only chuckle awkwardly, eyes darting down as he fought to keep his cool.

"Yeah, um… strange," he managed, forcing a nervous smile.

Then, suddenly, the man stood up, closing the distance between them. Mize's pulse quickened as the man moved closer, leaning over him while Mize stayed rooted on the very edge of the bench, his eyes flicking everywhere, searching for an escape. The man bent lower, his face inches from Mize's own, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.

"Same watch… same bag…" he murmured his gaze intent, piecing the puzzle together as he observed Mize's every twitch and blush. "You are something, you know?"

Mize's cheeks flamed, his breath catching as he stared up into those sharp, knowing eyes. Too close, too intense… he could hardly keep his thoughts in line, could barely breathe as he sat there, heart pounding and face burning.

Mize's mind was in meltdown mode. 'Let me die... let me die... let me die,' he chanted internally, squeezing his eyes shut and flailing a hand to push Adrian back. "O-okay, stop it! Adrian, alright? I get it… you know."