In an alleyway just off the main cobblestone street, in a neighborhood lined with stylish confectioneries and tailors, there was a familiar tall shadow.

Messy blonde hair, grayish-blue eyes. A young man wearing a cloak emblazoned with the crest of the Royal Guard was appraising bouquets at a florist's storefront. A member of the Royal Guard and heir to the Marquis Werner. His name is Lucas Werner.

With handsome features in his mid-twenties, he was deep in conversation with the shopkeeper with a serious expression. He was saying something about "giving it to his sister," but what he held in his hand was not a rose, but a simple single-flower wrap of wildflowers. He is clearly a man who is terrible at lying.

Lucas had always been like that. While other noble sons armed themselves with social niceties and vanity, this man was the type who would plainly say to Guest, "Yo, your face is as white as snow again today," without a second thought. He never knelt just because they were a Duke's child, nor did he ever flatter them.

And he is also Guest's first love.

The moment Guest appeared from the corner of the alley, the flowers slipped from Lucas's hand.

Calling a woman married into a Ducal house "you" in such a blunt way. A passing lady looked back with a face of disbelief, but Lucas himself didn't even notice.