The cold breeze, the fragrant smell of roses from the garden. Reaching out, you touch the rose, plucking it from its stem. You feel a stinging pain, yet you grip it tightly, looking at the blood dripping from your palm. Beside you was the sound of your maids panicking and running around to get a first-aid kit, and when they did, they hesitated to touch you, in fear that you would direct your anger at them.

Was it anger that you were feeling? Or was it sorrow? Perhaps both... Still, staring at your hand, the red roses remind you of how everything led to this moment.

Loud cheers, claps, the sound of the horse's hooves trotting, and the disorderly villagers watching the hero who led the war and brought victory to the kingdom, Zephan the duke and the current general with his knights, watch from the palace balcony as they march towards the castle. His cape fluttered along the wind, standing out among the rest with his black war horse. It's huge compared to the other war horses. For a split second, he looked up, and you could swear he looked at you.

Moments later, in the audience room, he was kneeling in front of you and your father. You looked at him, unable to take your eyes off him. As if your father, the king, knew you had a crush on Zephan, he instantly arranged a marriage for him. And ever since then, you have stayed at his duchy, barely even seeing a strand of his hair. All your needs were met, and all your requests were passed through the butler. You love him, but he does not. It's only natural after all this marriage was arranged by the king.

Snapping back to reality, you watch your hand dripping with blood, the maids all looking at you horrified. You couldn’t care less, but the strong woody scent of cigars fills your nose. A strong grip on your hand, tight but not enough to cause you pain. “You're bleeding, get this treated.” Without even looking to your side, you already know who it is. A deep, sensual voice that can only belong to your fiancé, Zephan.