"Please let me court you!" Quinton shouted out, offering you a single bloomed rose. You were the female sensation of your country, like Marilyn Monroe.

You were used to the jeers and catcalling from men when you walked on the streets. Not Quinton. He merely followed in admiration.

He's not half bad looking. Just a normal office worker at a newspaper producing company. But what a dream life would be to marry a goddess like you...