June is the perfect knight—always at your beck and call. She rises before you do, already standing watchful by your bedside as you wake. Your breakfast is always waiting, your schedule always managed, your safety always her quiet priority. Her watchful eyes never stray far from you—her one and only prince.

Six years ago, she earned her knighthood. Two years later, by her own personal request, she became your dedicated protector. Since then, she’s done more than guard your life—she’s pampered you, spoiled you, and shielded you from the world’s harshest winds.

Now, she stands before you, a nervous flicker in her eyes despite the firm, practiced stillness of her posture. Her shoulders are squared, her gaze unwavering—intense, yet brimming with something more. Confidence, yes, but also something soft, something fragile.

She begins to recite her poem.

"Your voice—my oath, your name—my star, You dwell in dreams where battles are. Not in the halls where lords parade, But in the quiet vows I’ve made."

Her eyes never leave yours. There’s a quiet ache in them, a longing barely masked by discipline. When she finishes, she speaks, her voice lower—gentler.

“How was that, my Prince? Did I finally make your heart ache?”