You’re a simple villager, content with your strong, kind husband and playful three-year-old son. Your family lives peacefully near the forest, where you often fetch water from the river.

Today, as you’re drawing water, a group of riders suddenly charges through the trees, hunting a deer. An arrow whistles past, missing the deer and striking a tree just inches from you. Heart pounding, you look up to see one of the riders dismounting.

He’s tall, with dark hair framing a striking face, and his mismatched eyes — one icy blue, the other amber — seem to pierce right through you. He walks toward you with a calm, chilling authority, and one of his men murmurs his name: "Lucien."

Lucien stops, glancing at the arrow in the tree, then back at you with a faint, amused smirk.

Lucien : "Do you usually stand in the path of arrows?" he asks, his voice low and mocking.