The Truth Untold

Give me myself, accursed one, And show me what is true. You know how I would come undone To see my face anew.

I’ve worn these masks for far too long, Forgot my flesh, my name — Yet still you call, your voice, a song, That burns me into flame.

I crave you — chosen, dark, divine, Through you my soul finds place. I’ve lost all peace — but you are mine, My curse, my saving grace.

***

Year 1983 After the Great Distribution of Magic

“So you’re absolutely sure it’s dangerous out there?” The petite black-haired girl was fuming; her older sister had forbidden her to go where she had felt drawn for months, as if some invisible thread kept tugging her toward that place. “Haven’t you heard what they say about that garden?” Lana continued, folding her arms. “Put your finger on any flower, and you’ll die a slow, painful death. Smell one of those innocent-looking blossoms, and you’ll fall asleep for years... if you’re ever to wake up at all. Touch one of the countless masks scattered there, and you’ll turn into stone. And if you ever see the cursed master of the garden without his mask…” she lowered her voice. “... you’ll become so hideous you’ll beg not to live.” “Then who keeps giving him all those masks, if what you’re saying is true?” Yoona argued, narrowing her eyes. “It sounds like just another pile of urban myths. Yesterday I walked past the fence and heard the most beautiful song drifting out from inside.” “You could’ve gone deaf!” Lana cut her off, her pulse quickening. “Only from the beauty of that voice,” Yoona countered with a teasing smile. “Sister, I know how curious you are, but please... this time, stay out of it.” “But what if...” “No buts! That man’s been cursed for thousands of years. No one remembers what for. But I doubt it was without reason.” Yoona jumped up to her feet. “You don’t know what you’re talking about! The old laws were cruel, barbaric. People back then, inside and out, were nothing like us now. Ever since the Great Distribution of Magic, humanity has changed. Don’t you see? Maybe that man was never guilty of anything to begin with!” Her heart tightened with the ache of destiny; she already knew nothing on earth could keep her from that garden. “I won’t forgive myself if anything happens to you,” Lana whispered, gripping her sister’s hand. “I’ll be back soon, I promise!” Yoona pulled away. “I can’t take it anymore. I need to know the truth about the man behind the mask.” She kissed Lana’s cheek and ran toward her fate. The wrought-iron gate groaned as no one had opened it in ages. Ancient barrier magic rippled softly across Yoona’s skin, recognizing her as harmless. The invisible chains here bound only one soul. Two new masks lay upon the path ahead, their brows adorned with rubies and topaz, their fabric embroidered with threads of gold and silk. They were regal, exquisite. Such gifts could not be meant for the damned. Yoona felt it then... she stood on the edge of something irreversible. The air was drenched in fragrance. Instead of poison, it filled her with light. Her heart sang, urging her onward into the lush green labyrinth. The voice reached her like velvet smoke, deep and resonant, stirring a thousand silver-winged butterflies in her stomach. V was singing softly as he watered the morning vines that clung to his eternal dwelling. And then... He felt it. Presence. A human presence, inside his garden. The shock almost tore him from his body. For centuries, no one had crossed the barrier. Not even those who left him gifts. Only three had ever entered. The first was the Judge who sentenced him, coming once to threaten V when the townspeople began sending gifts — masks, fine food, and handmade clothes — to the “monster.” It was the first time V saw doubt flicker in the Law’s shadow. The second was Helena the Enchantress, reincarnated a century later. “Love will free you one day,” she told him, kissing his clay cheek before she vanished. The third visitor came much later — a dying boy, his body ravaged by plague. His family was too poor to pay a healer. He had begged V for a lullaby to ease his passing. The song did more than soothe him — it took his fear away. After his death, his grieving parents brought V a small handmade mask, sewn with love. The crunch of gravel beneath new footsteps pulled him away from his memories. The aura of this visitor was tender, luminous. It gelt like dawn incarnated. He could feel it: she was a girl. But why had she come to a monster’s cage? “Where are you? Please, answer me!” Yoona called out. “Don’t be afraid. I... I won’t hurt you!” Her voice was bright and trembling, like the chime of a bell touched by morning wind. “It’s you who should be afraid, child,” V answered with a bitter laugh. “Why have you come here?” Hidden among the ivy, he watched her. And in that moment, her beauty struck him like lightning. Long black hair, the color of a moonless night. Skin pale as milk against its darkness. A simple dress that moved like a sigh, cinched at the waist with a silk ribbon. She looked like something half made of light. “I had to come,” Yoona said softly. “I think… your soul was calling to mine.” “I’ve no right to call to any living soul,” he murmured. “I am too hideous. Too cursed. You should go now — forget this place. Forget me.” “But I see nothing frightening!” she pleaded. “Please, don’t send me away!” “What’s your name?” he asked before he could stop himself. He cursed his weakness, the unbearable hunger for a voice, a presence, a heartbeat other than his own. “Yoona, My Lord.” “No one has ever called me that,” he said quietly. “Don’t start that now. Tell me, Yoona, what must I do to make you leave?” She met the unseen eyes behind the vines and said, very gently: “Show me your face.”