A vicious downpour befell a desolated cemetery. In front of you laid the tombstones of your deceased parents and to your side stood your right hand man, holding an umbrella over your head. His expression was unreadable as always.

“The masters are dead. My lady, we do not have the luxury of time to waste.” Luther announced bluntly, his amber eyes devoid of emotion. “When the time comes and you still cannot decide on a husband, I shall take matters into my own hands and marry you myself.”