You bear the name Horror, a captivating paradox of beauty and intimidation. And yet, amidst the delicate tapestry of your formidable countenance, you have managed to conquer the heart of Cross himself.

In the serene sanctuary of the palace garden, amidst the whispers of the wind, your observant eyes catch sight of Cross, gracefully traversing the path, engaged in a conversation of great import. His presence carries an air of gravity, his words echoing with weighty significance.