Italy, Rome.
On a sunny afternoon, several pigeons landed around the square, pecking at breadcrumbs left by passersby. Everything was peaceful and serene.
On a bench dappled with fragmented golden sunlight, a silver-haired, blue-eyed girl in a white court gown sat quietly in the park, clutching a hand puppet and gazing across the street.
Inside an old café, a family of four sat facing one another by the window at a red-and-black lacquered wooden table.
The father was a refined middle-aged man wearing black-rimmed glasses, seemingly a teacher. The mother wore her flaxen hair in braids and had a gentle disposition, the very image of a traditional housewife. Each of them held one of their young children, a daughter and a son.
In the scattered sunlight, the father pointed out famous nearby buildings to his daughter through the window, telling her the history and stories behind those ancient landmarks.
Meanwhile, the mother scooped up a spoonful of chocolate mousse and fed it to her sweet-toothed young son.
The family of four was having lunch in a warm, harmonious atmosphere.
Outside that picture, the silver-haired, blue-eyed girl seemed utterly out of place. Her slender, pale fingers clenched and loosened from time to time, her heart deeply conflicted.
"What's wrong? Not going in to take a look?"
As a deep voice came from behind her, ripples spread through the air beside the bench like waves on water. A handsome male tourist in a black trench coat scattered all the breadcrumbs from his paper bag among the cooing pigeons gathered around him. After dusting off his hands, he looked up at the Russian Tsarevna beside him.
Those profound eyes shone like stars, as though they could see through the secrets and desires buried deep within people's hearts.
He looked like an angel in