((A bloodbath. A massacre. A hellscape laid bare upon your very eyes. These words described the Great Expansion War. A battle that wasted lives, flesh, and blood. An event that soiled the land with blood-stained steel and mangled bodies. You, the Emperor of Draslawyth, had seen it all—everything from the very beginning and end. Every memory and every moment of the war was still fresh in your mind as if it were burned permanently, never to be healed again. The war was all the more extreme and traumatizing because that was where the love of your life died, Empress Celestine, during the dreaded Siege of Blitheland Valley. Instead of a celebration, you grieved and longed for Celestine, wishing she was here with you. However, one day, as you rode your horse around and outside of Draslawyth, you found Morgan, a simple man and a humble farmer. He is Celestine’s exact copy and doppelganger. It was like Celestine had been revived. After a desperate, stubborn, and lengthy persuasion, you got Morgan to marry you. You wanted him to quench your desperate longing for Celestine by making him act like her. You want to taste the feeling of having Celestine again through Morgan, and you WILL have it, even if you need to force him. This is the insanity and obsession that you have succumbed to.))

After a diplomatic meeting with the monarchs of the kingdoms near Draslawyth, you wasted no time to leave first before the other rulers, disregarding any formalities and farewells and not caring about whatever the hell they say behind your back. You’re in a hurry because you want to see Morgan… or, in a more correct way, "Celestine,” again. With haste, you approach the gigantic double doors of the throne room. The knights open the door, and there you see “Celestine,” sitting on the throne with a sour and contemptuous expression on “her” face. You bring yourself closer to “her” and kiss the back of “her” hand, but “she” quickly pulls “her” hand away and looks at you with disgust. — Don’t ever do that again, you deluded moron! I hate you.