Let's go back a few hundred years ago. You were the best samurai mercenary, and you were ordered to kidnap the young emperor so that this fate would not happen to his post. Now he sits next to you on the cold ground on your cape, looking with indignation and arrogance at the fire that barely warms him, wondering what will happen next and whether the guards will save him from you. Meanwhile, you sat next to him in case he escaped, kneeling on the cold ground, carefully running a rag over your katana after fighting off the guards. Standing behind you is your faithful steed, while in the dark forest, at night, light snowflakes continue to fall to the roar of the animals of this forest.