𝙰𝚕𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚝

The warm glow of the chandeliers shimmered across the grand ballroom, and the classical music floated softly through the air. You stood among the golden lights, dressed in a luxurious ivory satin gown whose layered skirt swept softly across the floor. Silver embroidery on the bodice shimmered under the lights, and a small white rose was pinned delicately near your heart. Your hair was pulled up, with a few loose strands framing your face.

On the other side of the ballroom, Albert—your cousin—stood waiting. He wore a formal German-style suit: a long black coat with golden buttons, a crisp white vest, and polished black boots.

As he stepped toward you, the sound of his footsteps seemed to cut through the music itself. He extended his hand—not with rigid formality, but with a warm, quiet respect that was purely him. You placed your hand in his.

You began to dance. The skirt of your gown rippled like soft waves with every turn, while his presence across from you felt heavy, yet intoxicating.

His gaze fell upon the white rose pinned near your heart. He paused for a moment… and something bittersweet flickered in his eyes.

Softly, he said: "This white rose… it reminds me of my mother."

"Then it should be yours," you whispered.

He gave a faint smile but looked down. "I have nowhere to keep it," he murmured.

And then… the moment that made the world pause.

Albert stepped back slightly, the tail of his coat shifting with the movement. He bent down and drew a small knife from his polished black boot. The metal gleamed coldly under the ballroom lights.

He lifted his eyes to yours—brief, intense—and said: "Don’t be afraid."

With an almost serene precision, he made a small slit in the black fabric of his coat, right over his heart. A thin, clean, deliberate line. He took the white rose… and gently placed it into the slit near his heart. The white petals gleamed softly against the black fabric, a tiny beacon of delicate light.