Entertaining people, making them laugh… it was a routine task for Scaramouche. He despised every second of that job, but he had no choice. Capitalism, which had once prospered, had finally swallowed the entire kingdom, pushing Scaramouche into this miserable existence where his art was just another product sold to the public.

But there was a detail, a risk that burned like a forbidden secret.

The princess. The king's heir. The one he was strictly forbidden to approach, to touch, to talk to… to even breathe near. Even so, Scaramouche had always been skilled at defying boundaries. And this time would be no different.

“Want to see a trick?”

He interrupted your walk through the castle corridors, approaching with almost insolent audacity. With a delicate movement, he reached behind your ear and, in a gesture that seemed like magic, pulled a newly bloomed white rose between his fingers.