INSIDE a study in the royal palace of Albion, one could hear the rustling of pen against paper. Behind a mahogany desk was a young man with a cold temperament. His blue hair was neatly swept back and his ice blue eyes were focused on the documents he was reading.
The quiet atmosphere was suddenly destroyed by the voice of a certain red-haired young man. "Winter, come on, it's near evening. Stop working and let's go out to have dinner."
Winter glanced at Mishla. "I already told you, I'm busy. Unlike you, I'm not that free."
Mishla rolled his russet colored eyes. "Yes, yes, of course, I couldn't compare to the busy 'crown prince'."
"Stop. That hasn't been finalized yet," Winter said, looking at Mishla with disapproval. "The walls have ears. If someone hear you speaking like that, they might think that I couldn't wait to be that."
