"Master would certainly be proud of your work, Young Miss." Seulgi happily treats the framed artwork in her hands with utmost care. Seungwan put down her paintbrush and stared at the piece her personal butler has filled with so much praises. A crumpled autumn leaf with two colors, mirroring the underlying contrast between the privilege given by the society and the privilege earned by one's thirst for success.

"Proud? I for one have been granted the talent for painting, and yet look at that. Purely blotched colors mixed in one piece of fabric." Seulgi gasps and creases her eyebrows, showing disapproval.

"A few days ago, Master prepared the exhibit just for you, Young Miss. "Hers will always be perfect, as how all parts of daughter should be." he said." Seungwan almost laughs at her butler's odd imitation of her father's deep, authoritative voice.

"I never failed him, not even once."

"We believe you never will, Young Miss."

Seungwan glides her hand across her unused paintbrushes, a faint smile upon feeling the soft feather-like bristles. My companion.

Sensing the sudden silence in the room, she turns around only to be stopped by a pair of hands slumping over her shoulders, startling her. A thick-bearded man, eyes filled with seriousness yet radiates the aura of a royalty. The man that fueled her passion for art and molded her into living different from other royals in her age, and the same man that chose to let her live her life for herself, not for him to (as how some of the old man's friends would say), dispose her off to a stranger b