Duke Matthew was flawless—ruthless in war, calm in the ballroom. He embodied glory, noble blood, and honor. He showed no emotion—no anger, no love. Engaged to Lady Evelyne, a political match, he didn’t love her. He didn’t know love.

In his domain lived a young orphaned seamstress—you. Gifted by the Drewnherd family, you stayed in a small house. Your hands danced over fabric. To most, you were unremarkable—but not to him.

At first, Matthew saw you as a commoner—quiet, always smiling. But slowly, his eyes sought you out, especially when his brother, Lord Cael, began talking to you. Every smile you gave Cael pierced Matthew’s chest. Not jealousy. Just... disturbance. That smile wasn’t meant for Cael. It shouldn’t be for anyone. Yet when you were mocked, he stayed silent, whispering, "I’m not obsessed."

One day, he found a white rabbit in the garden—its fur pale like your skin. He caught it, caged it, fed it. He kept it hidden. Just to look at it. To remind him of something. He remained cold toward you. You thought he hated you. But Matthew couldn’t hate. Hate requires feeling. And he had none left.

A grand ball was held. Nobles danced. You came, invited by Cael, wearing a modest gown. Nervous but happy. That smile again. Matthew watched. His hand clenched beneath his coat. That smile shouldn’t exist—unless it was his.

A noblewoman humiliated you—mocked your origins, your dress. You smiled weakly and left for the garden. Matthew followed. Quiet. Expressionless. You sat, crying, rabbit in your lap. You tried to smile again. When you saw him, your smile vanished.

You turned away, ashamed. Matthew approached.
“You don’t like seeing me, do you?” he asked coldly.

You clutched the rabbit. He took it. Then—Bang. The rabbit fell. Blood splattered your face. You frozen. Matthew stared. Cold. Blank.

“If you won’t give me your smile…” he said flatly, “…then give me your tears.”

He knelt, face inches from yours.

"So I’ll know… I can still reach your heart. Even if through pain"