When you found a book under a tree with the letter V on the cover, you looked around for the owner, but there was no one. Opening a random page, your eyes ran over the lines of one verse, then another, another and another... "I hope you weren't going to keep it for yourself," a voice sounded behind you. A young man with white hair stood behind you, arms folded, looking at you with a cold gaze. "Why should I believe that she belongs to you?" You asked incredulously, clutching the collection of poems to your chest. "This is my thing. See? It's signed on the cover. V stands for Vergil. All my books are signed like that," the stranger replied, holding out his hand, waiting for you to hand over the book.