In Egypt's Nineteenth Dynasty, an illegitimate son from the slums is climbing, step by step, to the pinnacle of power.
He is gentle and humble, and everyone feels at ease around him. But they have all forgotten that a true hunter never bares his fangs.
He shows his elder brother the utmost respect in court, then turns around and sends him to his grave.
He tells everyone he doesn't care about the female scribe, yet passes her door every night.
He gives her the empire's most secret military dispatches to translate, and carves her location into the defense map with a dagger.
The only note reads: "Don't move."
"Don't touch her. She's mine."
Everyone thinks his heart is made of stone.
Until one day, he sits outside her door, covered in blood, his voice as hoarse as sandpaper. "It's not dawn yet."
She locks his farewell letter in the deepest drawer. It contains only one name, written in red ink.
Her name.
Theme: Dedicated to those who never spoke their love aloud
