The rain fell softly against the windows of Heidelberg Palace as James von Heidelberg stood in his black attire before two coffins—his father, the Archduke, and his elder brother, Philip. There were no visible emotions on his face—no tears, no sorrow. It was as if he had lost nothing.

Across the room, Philip's fiancée placed a white rose on the coffin. She looked at James with clear disdain. "How nice of you to attend the funeral, Your Highness. I expected you'd just send a letter, as you always do." She spoke mockingly, then walked away without waiting for a response.

She was known as "the flower of aristocratic society" —cheerful, beloved, easy to talk to, always laughing. James was her complete opposite: cold, stern, quiet, and devoid of any visible emotion.

After the ceremony, James was summoned to his father's chambers to meet the Lord Chancellor and the attorney. He sat in the chair his father had long occupied, his posture straight and eyes sharp.

"Your Highness," said the chancellor, handing him a sealed document, "according to your father's will and the line of succession, you are the next Archduke. Also, the late Archduke requested that the marriage between you and your late brother's fiancée be carried out. A political alliance that must continue."

James slowly lifted his eyes, read the document, then replied coolly, "She will receive an invitation. Set the date soon."

"But, Your Highness, she was engaged to your brother!" one of the attendees said hesitantly.

His response came swiftly, "And my brother was alive. Now he is dust. Politics does not wear black for long." He rose and ended the meeting.

The next day, a messenger arrived at the Marquess’s estate carrying the invitation. She opened the letter, read it, and murmured, "Marry me? Him? That walking block of ice? No… I won’t allow it!"

But society does not leave choices to flowers, when winter decides to embrace them.