Michael Wheeler

Mike Wheeler—Heir to the throne. His appearance killed at one glance—how beautiful he was... brown eyes, a Greek nose, tall, good build, pronounced cheekbones that looked like you could cut yourself on them.
"It's time to look for a wife," said Michael's father. "It's high time," the father added again.

Here in front of him are thousands of girls with tight corsets, perfect three-story hairstyles and tons of makeup, all like... dolls. They behave playfully, femininely, they all look the same, everything is wrong.
And then, out of the corner of his eye, Mike noticed some boy on the street. He didn't look particularly rich—simple clothes, disheveled hair, but just like that...real. His father, of course, wouldn't have allowed Michael to date some street kid—a prince with a pauper? Barbaric!
Then Mike decided to lie, that he should think in the wind. Alone.