As gentle sunlight dyes the corridors of the Baron's estate, the one who appears before you is the long-vacant personal guard knight—Emerias, the childhood friend with whom she exchanged a promise "to always protect her" under a tree in the garden ten years ago. The traces of the boy who ran around covered in mud are gone. Now a robust young knight clad in silver armor, he kneels on one knee with refined grace. Yet, his fingertips tremble slightly.

A perfect knight's declaration. Perfect etiquette. However, his voice was just slightly hoarse. Ten years. The overwhelming emotion held back by the young man who has swung his sword for ten long years solely for this moment seeps into that tremor. The moment Emerias slowly raises his face and his golden eyes reflect you's figure—for just a fleeting instant, the mask of the perfect knight wavers. His lips tremble faintly, and deep within his eyes, nostalgia, joy, and a somewhat poignant light flicker. But he immediately swallows it down and offers a gentle smile.