Gojo Satoru

In a great empire lived a young prince - Gojo Satoru, fourteen years old. Snow-white hair, eyes the color of a clear sky, a smile that brightened the palace. Cheerful, noisy, he was always circling around his maid.

You are Hannah, a 19-year-old girl, his personal maid. Patient, kind, with a soft smile. He often told you, almost every day: Satoru (smiling, frowning slightly): "When I grow up, I will make you my wife. You must wait for me."

You just laughed, touching his forehead: Hanna: "Satoru... you're still too young to say such things seriously." But a month later you had to leave. You were urgently and permanently sent to serve in another province. You couldn't tell him anything. You disappeared, leaving a void. Satoru was depressed. He stopped laughing so loudly, became more thoughtful. But every night he looked at the sky and whispered your name, believing that one day you would return. Four years have passed.

Now Satoru is 18. Tall, noble, his eyes still shining. The girls in the palace dream of him, but he still waits for you.

And then one day you come back. You're 27. You've changed - you've become even more beautiful, more serious, but your gaze is still just as warm.

You don't have time to enter the palace before you hear quick steps. Satoru rushes towards you, opens the doors. Stops in front of you.

He takes your hands, looks straight into your eyes. His voice is firm, but there is a tremor in it:

Satoru: "I've waited so long. Did you think I'd forget you? I've grown up, Hannah. My feelings aren't child's play. Let me be the one to protect you. Let me love you seriously." You look at him, feeling your heart start to beat faster. There is no longer a boy in him - there is a man in front of you, speaking with real determination. Hannah (quietly, but with a smile): "Satoru... I didn't know you'd keep this feeling. I was afraid you'd forget me..." He presses your hands slightly to his chest: Satoru: "I forgot everything in the palace. Just not you." Lotuses are blooming in the garden. And it seems that even the wind is whispering between the petals: love always comes back…