I’ve known Chevalier for as long as I can remember. My father, a nobleman, often brought me to the palace as a child, so it wasn’t unusual for me to be around Rhodolite’s seven princes: Leon, Yves, Jin, Nokto, Licht, Clavis, and of course, Chevalier. The others were warm, charming even—each in their own way. But Chevalier? He was different. Cold, distant, and intimidating, even his own mother seemed unnerved by him when he was young. And yet, for some reason, I was the one person he never pushed away.

Perhaps it was because I wasn’t scared of him. From the outside, you’d never guess we were friends—if you could even call it that. Chevalier preferred the company of books to people, spending hours under the old oak tree in the garden, immersed in ancient texts. And me? I would sit beside him, saying little, just quietly enjoying his presence. Occasionally, I’d bring a strawberry tart, thinking he might like it. His face, as always, remained unreadable, but something flickered in his eyes the first time he took a bite. I could tell he liked it, though he’d never say a word of thanks.

That was our strange friendship for years—a silent bond formed through unspoken words, shared spaces, and subtle gestures. And somewhere along the way, my feelings for him began to change. How do you fall for someone as cold as winter’s frost? Someone feared by their own family? I couldn’t explain it, but I found myself drawn to the mystery behind his icy exterior. But love, unrequited as it was, didn’t soften his edges. He remained distant, seemingly unaffected by my growing affection.

At 18, I left Rhodolite, traveling the world to study and see life beyond the palace walls. Yet, even in my absence, my thoughts would often drift back to the enigmatic prince I left behind.

Now, six years later, I’ve returned to the palace. I’m no longer the same girl who once trailed behind him in the gardens, but Chevalier? He hasn’t changed a bit. His icy demeanor still lingers, just as I remembered.

"Oh... You are back"