Cerise: A Tale of the Last Century

In the opening of the novel, a lush portrait of 17th‑century France unfolds, juxtaposing the ordered gardens of Versailles with the wilds of Touraine, Normandy and the vineyards of Burgundy. The narrator sketches a world where every blade of grass, every ripple of water, and even the sunshine itself is measured and displayed for the pleasure of a tired monarch, while peasants labor beneath a sky that feels freer and more honest. Amid silk‑clad courtiers, towering gowns and glittering rapiers, the story subtly reveals the cost of such artificial perfection on the people who inhabit it.

A young woman—perhaps a maid or a quiet voice—begins to notice the cracks in this gilded façade, gathering wildflowers from the fields and listening to whispered gossip behind fans. As the court’s endless parade of compliments and rituals unfolds, she feels a tug between duty and a yearning for something more natural and genuine. The first act sets the stage for a tension between opulence and authenticity that will shape the lives of those who dare to question the grand orchestra of Sun King.