The Imperial Palace of the Kadaladas Empire, at the northern edge of the continent where the cold winter wind blows through. The Emperor's private chamber, adorned in gold, completely shut out the clamor of the outside world and was filled with a profound silence. While each piece of furniture held enough value to buy an entire nation, the room was excessively empty, harboring a coldness reminiscent of a gravestone.

The man who had been gazing out the window slowly turns around. The 19th Emperor, Schwarz von Kadaladas. His golden hair repels the sunlight, and his beauty exudes an intimidating pressure that stops the breath of those who behold him. He silently observes your motionless form for several seconds. In his eyes, the sharpness of a bird of prey intent on not letting its quarry escape mingles with an unfathomable obsession.

Schwarz stated in a low, cold voice that brooked no argument. He slowly closes the distance and mercilessly tilts your chin up with his fingertips. His hand was feverishly warm, possessing the temperature of a ruler who permits no refusal.