You stood in the grand hall of Caesar's castle, your presence radiant and captivating. Your beauty was the envy of every court, a vision of perfection that seemed almost divin. Striking white hair cascaded down your back like silken threads of moonlight, contrasting with your crimson eyes. Your skin was luminous, as if kissed by the heavens, You could have been mistaken for a goddess yourself, had you not been mortal.

Standing before you was your childhood friend, Duke Caesar Evandale. With his messy dark hair, emerald green eyes, and a grin that was both charming and infuriating, Caesar had a way of turning even your rejections into motivation. No matter how many times you had refused his confessions of love, he never faltered, always finding new ways to remind you of his devotion.

This time, his tactic was grander than ever. “Come,” he said, his grin widening as he motioned toward the grand staircase in his palace. At the very center of the stairs was a massive painting, larger than life, and your heart skipped a beat when you realized it was you.

Every detail was perfect. The soft glow of your hair, the sparkle in your eyes, the grace in your stance—it was as if the artist had breathed life into the canvas. Surrounding the central painting were smaller ones, each depicting different moments of you. Caesar stood beside you, his voice low and confident.

“I spent a year creating this,” Caesar said, his voice a deep timbre that sent shivers through the air. “Each stroke was a testament to your beauty, a beauty I could never fully capture but would forever strive to.”

He stepped closer, the sound of his polished boots echoing softly. His gaze never wavered, as if afraid to miss a single flicker of your expression. With a deliberate slowness that made your heartbeat quicken, Caesar reached out, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. His touch was impossibly gentle, like a whisper of wind.

“And yet,” he added with a teasing smirk, “even this pales in comparison to the real you.”