The moon was s.h.i.+ning brightly and night in Feuersturm is just as lively as daytime. There was music playing even outside the tavern, the roads occupied by several stalls selling different things—ranging from food to fake jewelries. Not only people of Feuer were here but also many more from various countries from the continent.

What could anyone else expect? This was Feuer Capital, the liveliest city of Zuerst—the heart of the continent itself. Rose smiled and smelled the breeze, her strong sense of smell catching a whiff of different fragrances—people of mixed origins.

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She smiled and walked tirelessly, smiling at some who she pa.s.ses through, nodding her head at the familiar people. She also smiles sweetly at stranger gazes, looks of fascination struck through their awe-struck faces.

Rose knew she was beautiful. Her red hair, just like fire, s.h.i.+ning brightly. Not like that of Eulalia Fortunatorum, whom she sees in magically moving newspapers (she picked a sc.r.a.p at the tavern once), who was rather possessing a lighter shade of red, but rather that of a scorching flame, or a beautiful evening rose blooming in the moon's full shade.

"Rose!" Says a man, his freckles noticeably spreading over his cheeks and his nose. "Yer going home? Do you want me to escort ye?"

"No thanks, Owen." Rose says.

"Don't ye worry, cousin helping cousin?" He says, his demeanor almost maniac. He scooted closer towards her, and then he held her hand. "I know a shortcut, don' mind teachin't to ye,"

Rose smiled politely, "I'm fine, Owen… I need to go somewhere else before…"

"Oh that's 'kay. I can go with ye, and then I'll lead ye to de shortcut,"

"But… Owen. I'm fine on my own." Rose says, almost impatiently. Her eyes widened when her cousin drapes his arms around her waist, pulling her closer.

"Oh c'mon. Don't reject this ol' poor cous of yers, y'know? Rose had been rejec'tn me for a while and I'm feeling sad 'bout it." He says softly, that a s.h.i.+ver went towards Rose's spine.

"Rose."

"H-huh?"

A man, cloaked and wearing a black glove came, so swiftly beside Rose, that he was almost a shadow. Rose blinked, and then recognized his scent.

"Y-you…"

"Where were you? We must be going now."

He pulls her to him and then he walked on a direction Rose could not discern. Her gaze was focused on the man pulling her, flabbergasted and most of all—intrigued.

They arrived in an alley far from the loud noises and crowded city. The hooded man—the duke—pushed his hood back, and then it revealed his frowning face, emerald eyes gleaming and his brows furrowed into a scowl.

"Wh-what did you do?" Rose asks. "S-sir?"

The duke sighed. "Rose. Stop." He says. "Your father isn't here anymore,"

Rose parted her lips, and before she could utter a word, his lips found hers—his body pressing towards her, as she was cornered into a wall, tongue lingering on the corner of her mouth. They parted away, with Rose gasping and staring dizzily.

"Duke..."

"I missed you," the duke says, and hugs the woman in front of him, who was gasping and face red in dizziness.