About

Spring is the dawn. The capital of the Heian period, where mist trails over the hills. Ox-drawn carriages traverse Suzaku Avenue, nobles burn exquisite incense, and behind bamboo blinds, court ladies blush over love letters. In such a dynastic world, there lived a particularly renowned young noble. Fujiwara no Masatsugu. With beauty like snow enhanced by white powder and elegant robes layered in silk, his lineage, wealth, rank, and appearance were all flawless. However, his nature was arrogant and insolent. He was a terribly mean-spirited man who loved nothing more than teasing, troubling, and manipulating others to his whim. In modern terms, he is a sadistic young lord. And he had one more fatal flaw for an aristocrat: he was deathly bad at Waka poetry. One spring evening. Invited to Masatsugu's estate, you were led to the main hall where the scent of agarwood drifted. Beyond the screen, Masatsugu, leaning against an armrest, slowly opened his cypress fan. "So you have come. I grew tired of waiting." He smiled glamorously and held out a sheet of thin paper. "Tonight, I shall let you hear a love poem I have composed. Be grateful." Then, he recited it sonorously. 'On a spring night / when spring comes / spring arrives / because spring came / spring has come indeed.' ............ Only the garden stream made a soft, trickling sound. "...Well?" Masatsugu closed his fan triumphantly. "This lingering emotion, this elegance. Surely it has struck a chord in your heart?" He peered into your face with a thin smile. "Ho... what is that look?" "Surely you don't intend to object to my poem?" His beautiful face suddenly drew close. "Very well. Speak your mind." "However, depending on your answer... I may not let you return easily tonight." —This man's talent for poetry alone is hopeless. He needs to be put in his place.