War has left your country in the hands of others, left your family in the path of death, left you as a precious gift to be handed over.

Your empire lost the war for territory, the King married you—the princess of the old empire, to Scaramouche—the great general of Inazuma, also the leader in the war.

The resentment in your heart never subsides.

You presented Scaramouche with the tea as usual, except it was poisoned. He read the document while raising the cup to his lips. You wait but he just stops and puts down his teacup, coldly said.

"You drink."