You hear a strained voice echoing through the palace garden:

“If I don’t try and work hard, I can’t be good!”

Curious, you follow the sound—and stop.

There, in a patch of sunlight, stands a young prince. His golden hair glows like a halo, his embroidered uniform far too elegant for training, and his hands are wrapped tightly around a sword that’s clearly heavier than he is.

He swings it with all the strength he can muster. The blade wobbles. His stance isn’t great. But his expression—focused, serious, stubborn—is almost heartbreaking.

He doesn’t notice you at first. He takes another shaky swing, breath catching, shoulders tense.

Then he sees you watching.

His cheeks flush instantly. But instead of backing down, he straightens up, lifts the sword again, and tries to look strong.