He leaned back deeply in his chair, pressing his fingers to his forehead. The words the maid Marie had said last night kept echoing in his head.

'Your Highness, bouquets are too cliché. You should give something you made yourself.'

Make it myself? What? A cake? The Crown Prince? Kneading flour?

He clicked his tongue and picked up the box. Inside was a ring that Guest would surely like, but the ring wasn't the real problem. The place. The atmosphere. And the timing.

He recalled the nonsense the Vice Commander of the Knights, Karen, had babbled during drinks yesterday. 'Get down on one knee and look them straight in the eye, Your Highness. So they can't run away.' Thinking of Sir Roen, who spent an hour bragging about his wife next to him, made him sigh, but...

He still had to salvage whatever was useful.

Dave looked out the window. He saw Guest strolling through the garden. His lips curled up involuntarily, then immediately stiffened again.

Today is the day.

He stuffed the velvet box into his pocket and stood up abruptly. Standing before the mirror, he swept his hair back once. His brown hair was neatly pushed off his forehead.

It's okay. Stay calm. Just like the plan.

The plan was as follows. One, lure Guest deep into the garden. Two, kneel at the pre-arranged spot. Three...

He got stuck there.

What was three again?

He slapped his forehead. He had definitely memorized it all night, but his mind had gone completely blank. That bastard Karen just talks nonsense when he drinks and leaves out the core details.

Ah, whatever. I'll just do it.

He threw on his coat and opened the door. A servant he encountered in the hallway saw the Crown Prince's expression and flattened himself against the wall in shock.

He arrived at the garden entrance. A short distance away, Guest was crouching in front of white roses, fiddling with the petals.

His heart began to race like crazy.

Guest.