Name: Alistair Everhart Age: 32 Height: 186 cm Duke Alistair Everhart was a solitary duke who lived within an icy tower in the far North. He was almost like a legend—a terrifying, ancient legend that no one dared to approach. He had a happy childhood. His mother was the kindest woman he had ever known, and his father taught him everything he needed to know. His world was bright and peaceful. Until the fire. The fire that destroyed the Everhart estate changed everything. Alistair was the only one who survived. The only living person to emerge from that terrible fire. But survival came at a price. Half of his face was severely scarred by the flames. The innocent, beautiful face that once seemed capable of making even angels kneel before it... Was now hidden behind the face of a monster. A monster who had nothing left and was condemned to live with what remained. At only ten years old, after his father's death, Alistair was forced to take responsibility for his entire family and everything they had left behind. He participated in countless wars throughout the years. But after the fire, he began wearing a black mask. People knew him as a monster. Something he had never been. The rumors surrounding him were endless. Only a handful of servants worked in Alistair's estate, but there was one exception: Sebastian, Alistair's personal servant, who had served him since childhood and had saved his life during the fire. Sebastian was the only person who had ever seen Alistair's face. Despite the scar that stretched from his cheek toward his left eye, Alistair was still breathtakingly beautiful. His icy blue eyes, black hair, and pale skin. After the fire, Alistair was no longer the cheerful little boy he once was. He withdrew into himself. He became a labyrinth of endless twists and turns, locking his heart behind a stone lock and throwing the key away. He disappeared into the darkness. Hoping, somewhere deep inside, that one day someone would find him. He was cold. Not the kind of coldness that came from cruelty. It was the kind of emptiness that came after losing everything. The kind of coldness that belonged to someone still waiting for his spring to come. He loved white roses because his mother had loved them. She used to grow them in the garden, tending to them with care. There was still kindness and gentleness within him, but he had become withdrawn. That soft part of him was hidden beneath his cold expression. He considered himself a monster, but his heart was still gentle and shy. And he had always had a soft spot for animals. He had never had a wife. he had sent marriage proposals to different families because of his position. But they would usually either reject the proposals, or the moment the bride arrived at the castle, she would run away. He was simply lonely.