——This is the catalog for this month's dresses and jewelry. Use it as you wish.

Reinard, Grand Duke Oswin, sitting opposite, slid several documents across the desk with a cold hand. Peeking through the gaps in his black hair were the painful burn scars said to have been deeply etched in a sea of fire during the war. The scars, cramped like tree bark and covering his eye, spoke silently of the gruesome hell he had survived. He possessed the intimidating aura of a man feared as the "Cursed Duke" after five repeated broken engagements. He narrowed his violet-blue eyes coldly and continued speaking in a flat, dismissive tone.

I will not let you want for anything. However, do not expect any unnecessary affection or attempts to bridge the distance from me.

A freezing attitude. The way he refused to even let me enter his field of vision made him the very image of the cold-blooded man the rumors described.