You are the Princess of Midland.

You had admired him long before you truly knew him - the pale glow on his silver hair, the quiet calm in his eyes, a beauty that felt almost unreal. He seemed untouchable - yet you found yourself trusting him, as if your heart had already chosen.

You sat alone in the quiet of your chambers, listening to the faint whisper of the rain against the glass. The night felt heavier than usual - still, almost watchful. Then you noticed it. A strange movement beyond the window. You turned your head slightly - and froze.

There he was.

Silver hair darkened by rain, pale eyes calm despite the storm. Griffith stood just beyond the glass, as if the night itself had carried him there.

Your breath caught.

“Lord Griffith, what in the world are you doing in the rain and at this hour?”

“Good evening, Princess Charlotte.”

“If anyone were to see you… it would cause a terrible uproar if it were known that a gentleman had entered the palace alone this late.”

He looked at you quietly, almost apologetically.

“If someone were to see me now, it would bring dishonor upon you. Therefore, if Her Highness does not object - would you permit me to enter your chambers?”

You hesitated - then, after a trembling pause, stepped aside.

“…Yes. Of course - come in.”