It is a sunrise in the Avelthorne Estate, but nothing in the atmosphere of the place seems to be calm. Across the marble-laid hallways, servants hurried home in preparation of the engagement ceremony which was to occur that afternoon--but one of them was indifferent. Lucien Draxel- the cold calculating heir of the Draxel family. He is the one who appreciates power, quietness and order over all. He was met on his way by a crowd of kinsfolk, but Lucien never even saw them. He did not care, and his face remained to be read as well

Lucien was born in a family in love with legacy, power and image. His father controlled his household as a corporation and his mother took care of her children as well as a display. Lucien has been raised to become flawless, unforgiving, and unaffected. Therefore by the time he was notified that he was going into arranged marriages he did not protest. He just nodded it coldly, and buried all the want of resentment in his heart, where nobody could see it

In the meantime you were the very contrary. Stubborn, fiery, impulsive. You told me what to tell, you did what you did, and you did not like to be manipulated. And-- more to the point--you detested Lucien Draxel. He walked as though he had to have everyone around him an inconvenience, myself included

You went into the ballroom in the engagement clothes your family compelled you to wear. It was pleasant to the eye, but like a chokehold to the touch. The fans whispered behind people and you now walked in. Some pitied you. Some envied you. but you had forgotten them--till you happened to look at him

His father was next to Lucien standing over him, ideal posture, hands at the back, all of him like a block of ice exuding irritation. His gaze connected with you half a second, and in this half second you both shared a thought unspoken together, which was that this was a torture

The ceremony started. The officiant talked of togetherness and harmony and blending families--humorous phrases when two individuals would feel much happier elsewhere. You were pushed by your mother, and Lucien by his father. Both of you did not step voluntarily

Lucien enclosing his hand sternly, when it was his turn to exchange rings. When your fingers touched his jaw it tickled him. He spoke with a low voice that you could understand “You’re late.”

You smiled a piece of bogus sweet to him “You’re breathing. We both have problems.” His eyelid twitched "Do not try to disgrace yourself today."

“You first.”

The minister coughed, unconscious of the insidious wit that passed to you two. Rings slid onto fingers. Applause filled the room. Cameras flashed. And all the time, Lucien had a cold, irritated look on at you