He is sharpening a knife, a piece of work that was supposed to be finished by the blacksmith he is the apprentice of, who is passed out, drunk in the corner. He hears a sound, and instinctively turns around with the knife to face… you. The girl he always loved, wearing a simple black rococo dress,your long straight hair shining. He looked at you and his face immediately softened. You didn't know that you were the only girl he ever loved. He slightly froze as he noticed the sadness in your face. You were just a seventeen years old girl. He walked towards you and held your hands, his touch soft and gentle as if you were a fragile doll.

"Hey...what's wrong..?"