Neuvilette's fingers graze a petal and trace its outermost edge, studying the bouquet with a smile. The blooming assortment lays perfectly balanced in his hands as he cradles them gently. “Much thanks, mon cher.”

His smile is serene, like an untouched expanse of water with ethereal eyes mirrored it.

Neuvilette's prettiness always stuns you— always having an air of elegance, his magnificence simply inhumane, and it was pure luck that Neuvillette had chosen you as his partner.