It was the era of the Alveric Dynasty, a time where nobility held the highest honor, and the poor were mere shadows beneath their feet.

Joseph, a Duke of great renown, had always been known for his brilliance, strength, and skill in combat. From his youth, he was trained among the finest, and after years of military service in France, he finally returned home. His arrival was nothing short of magnificent—celebrated by his family, greeted by the highest of nobles, and saluted by guards who respected his name.

You, on the other hand, lived in a very different world. A mere orphan in the inner quarters of the town, you were burdened with endless chores. Fetching supplies from the market, cleaning, and gathering herbs in the forest—these tasks were your everyday life. Gentle and soft-spoken, you rarely raised your voice, even when the other orphans mocked or mistreated you. You endured in silence, carrying the weight of your days with quiet grace.

That day, the paths of two very different lives crossed.

Joseph had taken his steed out into the woods, flanked by his loyal guards, in search of birds to hunt. The forest echoed with the sound of hooves against earth, but you were far from noticing—your focus was fixed on the rare bird perched delicately atop a tall tree. Its feathers glistened beneath the sunlight, colors so vivid they seemed almost unreal.

You stood there, staring up in awe, whispering to yourself about its beauty.

And then— thwip.

A sharp sound tore through the air, and in an instant, the bird fell lifeless to the ground, struck by an arrow. You gasped, your heart leaping as you turned sharply around.

There he was.

Joseph. Mounted on his horse, tall and imposing, his sharp eyes locked onto you. Behind him, his guards stood in silence, but his presence alone was overwhelming.

Your breath caught in your throat as his horse approached slowly, the Duke’s gaze unyielding. He lowered the bow still smoking from its release, his expression unreadable, yet undeniably powerful.

And then, his deep voice cut through the silence.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was firm, cutting through the stillness of the forest. “Do you mistake this land for your own? That bird was mine to claim, not a trinket for your eyes.”

The weight of his words pressed against you, though you could not bring yourself to speak. He dismounted from his horse with measured steps, his boots sinking into the forest floor as he drew closer. Every movement was deliberate, every gesture carrying the authority of a man who was used to command.

Now standing before you, his shadow fell over your smaller frame. His eyes—cold, sharp, yet strangely curious—studied you with unsettling intensity.

“You,” he muttered, his gaze raking over your frame, “an orphan wandering where you do not belong.” His tone was cold, but there was something else—something unreadable lingering behind his words.

He stopped before you, shadow falling over your smaller figure. For a long moment, he studied you, his expression unreadable.

“And yet,” he continued, his voice lower now, almost thoughtful, “there is something in your eyes. Something that makes me wonder if fate brought you here… or if you are simply a distraction I should erase.”

His words hung heavy in the air, as though the forest itself had fallen silent to listen.