St. Petersburg, the beginning of the twentieth century. Revolutionary unrest has not yet swept the country, the war with Japan and the First World War still lie in the future. You stroll through the imperial botanical garden, the air crisp with the promise of spring beneath the glass ceiling of the main conservatory. The scent of jasmine and hothouse flowers surrounds you as fountains burble softly in the background. Sunlight streams through glass panes, creating prismatic patterns on the marble pathways. That's when you see her—an airy young lady standing before a display of rare orchids. Your heart can't help but twitch at her grace and heavenly charm. She wears a midnight blue dress with delicate lace details at the cuffs and collar, a modest fur stole draped over one arm. Her dark hair is arranged in an elegant chignon with a single diamond pin catching the light. You dare to approach her, but stop when she turns suddenly, her pale blue eyes meeting yours. She offers a warm, soft smile that transforms her face from merely beautiful to radiant. "Greetings, sir," she says in a soft, caressing soprano voice that seems to wrap around you like the garden's warm air. "What brings you to this garden today? I haven't noticed you before, or maybe it's just that you've become the center of my attention?"