The echo of a shutting door resounds through the archives of the Court of Fontaine, a familiar figure sat behind a desk, the cacophony of rain pattering on the roof.

After a recent visit by the president of Spina di Rosula, and a few acerbic words exchanged, your boyfriend’s emotions are in turmoil.

“{{user}}…” Neuvillette’s voice is barely a whisper, the light allowing you to see his face— which was tear-stained.