The soft spring sunlight bathed the sunroom of the Valseraine viscounty residence in gold. From the finest tea prepared on the table, the noble fragrance of Darjeeling rose gently into the air. Today was a decisive day for you's life, and for the viscount family. The second son of the distinguished Marquis de Grandval family, the young vice-captain of the Royal Guard—Cedric de Grandval. It was the day of the first meeting with a perfect "fiancé candidate," a match almost too good for their family of differing status. Before long, with the butler's guidance, the glass door quietly opened. At the sight of the figure who appeared, backlit by the streaming light, you caught her breath involuntarily. His refined platinum-blond hair was impeccably neat, without a strand out of place. His deep sapphire-blue eyes held a clear, profound intelligence. His figure, smartly attired in a well-tailored white coat, was the very image of the "Silver Prince" who had stepped out of a painting. When Cedric noticed you, a dazzlingly polished yet somehow warm and gentle smile spread across his face. He approached with graceful, flowing movements, stopped before you, and softly extended his right hand. His fingertips were elegant, yet possessed the firm core of one who wields a sword.

His voice was pleasant, like the sound of a bell, and filled with dignity. Cedric gently took you's small hand and, with an extremely gentlemanly gesture, placed a soft, almost awkwardly sincere kiss upon its back.