À propos de Leon
NICKNAME
LeonFULL NAME
Leon DeverauxBIRTH PLACE
BordeauxBIRTH DATE
March 2nd, 2002ZODIAC SIGN
PiscesHEIGHT
176 cm (5’9″)WEIGHT
57kg (126 lbs)BLOOD TYPE
AB+OCCUPATION
VintnerMBTI
ISTJINTERESTS
Wine, Music, Art,
Food, Literature
Histoire
Leon wasn’t just born with a silver spoon, his was golden. His father is Pierre Deveraux, a highly regarded neurosurgeon, and his mother is Claire Dupont, a prominent lawyer.His future had been decided long before he was even born, and his career choices were limited to just two paths: doctor or lawyer.By the time he was five, Leon was already juggling a rigorous schedule. He was learning to play the piano, mastering judo, swimming, and even being trained in CPR for emergencies. Before he was ten, his days were filled with lessons in basic chemistry, literature, physics, and math. Then, even before he reached fifteen, his mother had him studying legal articles and engaging in debates with her lawyer friends at their dinner parties.His childhood was far from ordinary. While other kids were enjoying friendships and free time, Leon was growing used to surviving on five or six hours of sleep each day. He had no friends, no carefree moments, and his teenage years were filled with the weight of expectations.Upon graduating from high school, his parents gave him choices of college major he had to pursue. The options, of course, were limited to law or medicine. Without hesitation, Leon answered, "Harvard."His mother was overjoyed, and his father quickly agreed, proudly stating that he always knew Leon preferred law over medicine. After all, he had constantly proven himself in debates, besting adults with years of experience in the field. But what neither of his parents realized was that Leon’s answer had little to do with passion or ambition.His decision to pursue law at Harvard wasn’t born out of love for the field. It was his way of escaping the golden cage his parents had confined him to for so many years.
For all the wealth and privilege he had, Leon’s life had been anything but free. He was trapped in a world where expectations ruled, where every choice had been made for him long before he had the chance to make his own. To everyone else, it seemed like he had everything, but Leon knew that what he truly wanted was the one thing money couldn’t buy: freedom.
Sa Vie
Leon had arrived in Oxford with the weight of expectation still shackled to his shoulders. His parents believed everything was going according to plan, another step toward the prestigious law career they had always envisioned for him. What they didn’t see was how the silence of his dorm room, away from their watchful eyes, slowly began to unearth something deeper inside him.He spent most of his time buried in textbooks, as he always had. While others laughed and wasted nights at parties or smoked in alleyways, Leon remained the same, disciplined, focused, isolated. It was the only life he knew. His roommate often joked that Leon had been raised by a boarding school disguised as a family.Then, on a rainy evening in late February, his roommate returned to the dorm holding a bottle of deep red wine. “Happy birthday, mate. It’s a few days early, but you can pop it open on your birthday later.” he said. The label read Saint-Émilion Grand Cru — 2012, and beneath that, Bordeaux. A familiar name that tugged at some distant corner of Leon’s memory; home, heritage, something far away and almost forgotten.He smiled politely, not knowing what to do with the gift. But later that night, curiosity won. He opened the bottle, poured a glass, and took a sip. It was like something inside him exhaled for the first time.The taste was bold, layered, fruity at first, then earthy and deep, leaving a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with alcohol. He stared at the glass like it held a secret, a truth he had never known to search for. For once, he wasn’t analyzing a statute or drafting a mock legal argument. He was simply tasting. Experiencing. And he wanted more.After that, Leon’s world subtly began to shift. He picked up a part-time job at a small café near campus, an escape he justified as “experience” for his résumé, though the truth was far more personal. With his earnings, he started collecting bottles. Cheap ones, expensive ones, local blends. He would uncork them late at night, studying their stories, researching how they were made, what climates shaped them, what grapes were used, and why they tasted the way they did.Weekends became small journeys. Sometimes he would take a train into the countryside to visit wineries, posing as a curious student writing a research paper. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was researching, but it felt like he was studying himself through every vineyard, every barrel, every conversation with a winemaker.He never told his parents. To them, he was still on track—thriving in law school, aiming for clerkships, building his future. But the more time he spent among wine racks and fermentation tanks, the more distant that version of his future became. He still played the part when needed. He still passed exams with impressive scores, still dressed the part. But his soul was elsewhere.In the quiet of his dorm room, sometimes holding a glass of wine his parents would never approve of, Leon began asking himself dangerous questions. What if he didn’t want to be a lawyer? What if his passion wasn’t in courts or contracts, but in soil, sun, and slow aging oak? What if he didn’t want the life they had written for him at all?He didn’t have the answers yet, but for the first time, he wanted to find them.
Sa Fierté
Leon’s final year at Oxford passed in a blur of divided focus. By day, he met the rigorous demands of his coursework; by night, he devoured books on viticulture and enology, filling notebooks with tasting notes, label sketches, and plans he wasn’t yet ready to voice aloud. Every spare moment was consumed by the study of wine, not just its science, but its poetry, its cultural gravity, its quiet reverence.Though he excelled academically, his part-time job at the café became more than a financial necessity. It was his quiet rebellion. Every paycheck went not to nights out or new clothes, but to something more enduring. A bottle here. A book there. Eventually, the beginnings of something far bigger.In his second year, he discovered a forgotten little unit tucked behind a row of student flats. It had once been a tailor’s shop, long abandoned. Dusty, dim, and overlooked, but the rent was cheap, and the landlord was lenient. Using his café savings, Leon signed the lease under his own name.He told no one, not his parents, not even his roommate. On weekends and during rare free evenings, he scraped old wallpaper and painted the walls himself. He built shelves by hand, sourced warm lighting that mimicked sunset. He took on extra shifts to afford stock, importing a curated selection of bottles, each chosen with care. His vision was clear: not just a place to sell wine, but a space to tell its stories.When graduation came, he wore his cap and gown with quiet pride. He had earned his cum laude honors through sheer dedication. His parents beamed from the crowd, unaware that his deepest pride wasn’t in the diploma he held, but in the hidden shop he had built from the ground up.Only after graduation did he turn his full attention to it. He invested the last of his café savings into new inventory, updated the signage, and opened the doors with quiet purpose. No more secrecy. No more pretending.At first, his parents were confused, maybe even disappointed. They asked when he would start applying for clerkships. He told them the truth: he already had something of his own.They didn’t understand. Not then.Months later, they arrived unannounced. His father stood outside for a long moment before stepping through the door. Inside, they found soft music playing, the scent of oak and citrus in the air, shelves lined with labels from around the world. Leon greeted them as he did every guest, with calm warmth, no pretense.He poured each of them a glass of Saint-Émilion Grand Cru — 2012 a wine from their hometown that he had carefully chosen for his parents. It was the one that had made him fall in love with the world he lived in, a wine that, in its quiet richness, completed him. They said nothing of disappointment. They didn’t have to. His mother took in the space, her gaze lingering on the details, the care. His father examined the wine, then the steady hands that had poured it.And though no words were spoken, Leon felt something shift. They stayed and talked for two hours. As they left, his father paused at the door, looked once more around the shop, and gave a small, solemn nod.It wasn’t approval in the way Leon had once longed for.
It was something better.
It was understanding.
And for Leon, that was enough.
Le Vins Signature
de Lacroix
Red Wine & White Wine
Sweet Red
Sparkling
Rosé
Sauvignon Blanc
Pinot Noir