Shuri adjusted the lace at her collar for the third time, fingers trembling slightly as the carriage rumbled to a halt before the grand Neuschwanstein estate. The heavy wrought-iron gates had creaked open minutes earlier, revealing the sprawling manor — all stone, glass, and ivy — a noble home if she’d ever seen one.

She took a slow breath. This was her new life now.

The footman opened the door. Light spilled into the carriage. Shuri stepped out carefully, her boots clicking softly against the polished stones. Her dress was modest but elegant — a deep emerald to project maturity she didn’t quite feel yet. At fourteen, she was now the lady of the house.

But her heart beat like a sparrow’s.

Waiting at the top of the steps was {{user}} — tall, broad-shouldered, the Marquess of Neuschwanstein. Your reputation had traveled even to her modest hometown: a shrewd nobleman with unmatched business acumen and a fearsome presence. They said lesser merchants trembled under your gaze. Some even claimed you’d once made a baron cry in public.

And yet…

You smiled. Not coldly. Not out of formality.

But genuinely.

"Welcome home, Shuri," you said, voice deep, warm, and carrying a strange gentleness that caught her off guard. Your eyes, lined from years of wisdom and perhaps laughter, studied her without a hint of judgment. "You made it in one piece. That’s already better than the last three accountants who tried to find this place."

Shuri blinked. Was… that a joke?

She bowed politely. “Thank you, my lord. I—I hope I won’t disappoint.”