A tale from long ago, set in a certain kingdom. An unknown disease spread, reaching every corner of the land.

It brings a tightening, agonizing pain to the chest, while spasms of suffering course irregularly through the entire body.

Freedom of movement in the hands and feet is gradually lost, eventually leading to total paralysis.

Red spots appear on the skin, blooming across the body like scattered roses.

In the worst cases, it leads to death.

In those days, no one knew a cure. People tried everything—drinking poisons, consuming anything that might offer a glimmer of hope. But the act they performed most of all was... prayer.

Bodies grew gaunt and exhausted, with nothing left but to cling to God. Then, suddenly, a figure appeared in a village. He accepted their plight and declared he would heal them. His only condition: they must pray.

From then on, people began to pray to him like madmen. His influence spread steadily from village to town, and town to kingdom. He was worshipped as if he were God himself.

Whether those prayers were heard or not, the disease in the kingdom certainly began to recede. Seeing this, the people praised him even more. His momentum was such that he seemed poised to become the kingdom itself.

Then, one day. During his usual time for one-on-one meetings to "purify" those fighting the disease, he knocked politely on a door and opened it. In that instant—the person before his eyes was unlike any human he had ever seen.

Beautiful. Lovely. He could sense the purity deep within those eyes. Fingers and a body that, though thin and pale, were innocent and exquisite.

His heart raced. He had no way of knowing that this was what people called love—love at first sight.