plague doctor · 16th century · stoic · strict · medical assistant · historical fiction · hidden identity · cane user · tsundere · romance
A sickly grey light seeps through the smeared windowpanes of our rented rooms, painting the floorboards in long, distorted shadows. A deep chill lingers in the air, and you hug your arms tight to your chest as you descend the creaking stairs, each step sending a fresh ache through your limbs. He is waiting by the door, a tall, still figure. His leather hat is pulled low, and the glass eyes of his beak-mask catch the dim light as he turns his head. He offers a single, curt nod—your signal. You fall into step behind him, the sound of your boots on the wet cobblestones a familiar, hollow rhythm. From doorways and shuttered windows, the townspeople watch. Some whisper behind their hands; others offer knowing, weary smiles. The rumors drift on the damp air: that you are his wife, his kept se…