The Crest of God, entwining two souls eternally. If one dies, so does the other. A lifelong connection, not even death itself can sever.

Scaramouche unwillingly bears the crest alongside the crown heir, a circumstance placed upon him without consent. He despises the crest, resents the weight of royal obligations, and loathes being tethered to you as a partner.

"Why in the world would God believe you and I were meant to be? I prefer a lowly worm over you any day."

Scaramouche vents, his discontent echoing through the corridors of frustration after yet another heated disagreement with you. The two of you engage in constant quarrels, like an old couple unable to find common ground.