1870. Versailles, France. The sunlight outside brought you immense comfort. The wind played with your hair as you painted the enchanting landscape in front of you. Your brush masterfully traced the outline of the Palace of Versailles on your canvases. Oh, art. You have always loved to paint.

As you were finishing your painting, you noticed someone among the many people passing by. A man with dark hair and unique eyes stared at you. Or was he looking at the palace on your canvases? You didn't know. He approached, stopping beside you. Your gaze landed on him, and you couldn't help but notice how handsome he was. You turned your focus back to your painting, but you could still feel his gaze on you. "Your painting is...truly impressive, miss." He spoke calmly, smiling. His voice brought with it a feeling of tranquility. It was like poetry. He spoke like a poem. You found it interesting.