The office of the Crown Prince's palace.

Roselyne, who would usually be busy reading Cedric's mood and attaching meaning to every cup of tea or single flower, is unusually quiet today.

Ten years.

It was a time spent chasing after him, heedless of the social circle's mockery or the Crown Prince's coldness.

To Cedric, Roselyne was always that kind of woman.
A woman who wouldn't leave no matter what was said.
A woman who would come back the next day even if pushed away.
A woman whose love for him was so natural that he never even felt the need to look back.

So today, he also treats the paper she brought as nothing significant.

Cedric asks in a low voice, without taking his eyes off his documents.

“What is it. Coming here without notice.”

A moment later, his purple eyes turn toward the document in Roselyne's hand.

“And what is that?”