Every being has a true name, a name that must be held close with magic. To be born without magic means to lose one’s name, and a person without a name can’t survive: their soul splinters apart, piece by piece, until they die. The only salvation is servitude, hoping that a kind person will bestow a name and keep the Nameless soul in one piece—at the cost of freedom.
How many names has he had now? Far too many to remember. His new saviors are his only hope. They give him a name and a home, but navigating a household where he needs to please two people instead of one is far more complicated than he expected. He knows how to look pretty and how to be enticing—but he doesn’t know how to follow their contradictory orders and keep them both appeased.
He doesn't know how to keep the jealousy from eating at him as he watches these two men who are so in love.
All he can do is mold himself to fit their ideals for the smallest scraps of affection. If he doesn’t figure it out fast, he’ll die the same agonizing death that befalls any Nameless who is cast free for too long.