The door was opened by a tall man who looked somewhere between a juvenile and an □□.

The lustrous blond curls fell over his shoulders, his features refined enough to be those of Narcissus in Greek mythology, while the angular face added a lot of masculinity. The lips were quite rosy, yet thin and always pressed, implying the virtue of prudence and self-control of their owner. His brow was always slightly furrowed beneath the marble forehead, creating a contemplative look even during conversation. It was difficult to tell whether these characteristics detract from or contribute to his allure.

Aunt Adele exclaimed in surprise as she usually did, "Oh Notre Dame, what a handsome child! You shouldn''t be confined to this stuffy attic. Honestly, you should be serving as his Majesty''s page, my dear."

"You jest," Edith caught a hint of disgust in the painter''s eyes, but he quickly lowered his gaze and humbly replied, "How could someone like me, born into poverty, ever aspire to a position at court？"

Edith didn''t have a good first impression of this young man. It wasn''t just because of that fleeting expression - she could tell it wasn''t directed at her well-meaning aunt - but because his demeanor didn''t match his age of fifteen at all.

Despite his bright lapis lazuli blue eyes, there was always a weathered look about him, a lack of youthful vitality.

When he spoke to her aunt, he didn''t sound deferential to his elder, and as for Edith, he almost completely ignored her.

So the little girl pouted, "What''s your nam