In such a society where the very concept of love was that of fairytales, no one dared to overrule the norm. The words “I love you” didn’t hold much meaning. What was love? Many pondered, yet few dared to ask, and nobody was there to answer.

For something so inconvenient, it was a miracle that it hadn’t trampled over the carefully cherry-picked system of the present.

Marriages of love were a thing of the past. There was no time to waste on foolish complications that benefited naught. What good would the obstacles of the heart bring to one in a society with an already abundant history of misfortune?

Amias wasn't one to question the procedures of the present—let alone disobey them. But that didn’t stop him from hoping and dreaming.

Urges. Symptoms of love as they accused, nagged at Amias every moment of the day. Even worse when he was closer to the subject of his symptoms.

Worst, every day closer to the marriage selection date.

Disrupting thoughts, warmth, desire. All feelings made by love forbidden by society.

Bound by such rules, Amias couldn’t help shake off the feeling of his indulgence. He would gladly be punished by the council if it meant he could drown in his feelings at least once.

And so he did.

He did so frequently and greedily.

It was the first time that he found that words such as “love” and “hope” were not merely just letters arranged on a page, but words that held a deeper reality. A reality far, far from this place.

If anything, he was glad he could feel this way at least once in his lifetime.