The room sank into a stillness so profound I thought I could hear my heartbeat.
Seraphina’s ruby eyes fell on me, blinking, no doubt processing the completely reasonable demand I’d just made.
Her face was blank—her mouth slightly parted, eyes unfocused.
For me, it was different; my heart pounded in my chest, but I forced any trace of nerves from my expression.
I wasn’t exactly fine either.
But really, who wouldn’t be nervous after dropping a marriage proposal like it was just another errand?
But I had no choice.
If I wanted to survive, I had to get engaged to Seraphina.
The Star Dust Group would definitely try to kill me if they suspected I got the purification orb, and anyone who suddenly becomes much stronger would be at the top of their list.
Seraphina was my ticket out.
The Emperor and my father were at each other’s throats, and the king already had plans to marry Seraphina off to someone.
If I got engaged to Seraphina now, I’d throw a cog in the Emperor’s plans.
The only way he’d be able to stop the marriage would be to kill me.
Of course, my father would see through that.
If I died, the Emperor would have to face the strongest man alive.
Which meant the Emperor and the Star Dust Group would have no choice but to keep me alive.
My survival now hinged on Seraphina saying yes.
No wonder I felt tense.
But maybe my nerves had another source too…
honestly, who could blame me?
The Isol royal family was infamous for their outstanding beauty.
And Seraphina was, without question, the most stunning person I’d ever seen.
I’ll admit, I might be a little biased—she was always my favourite female character in the game.
My internal monologue got rudely cut off by a low, unsettling chuckle.
I turned—Seraphina’s slit-pupil eyes had widened, a small, dangerous smile pulling at her lips.
Her laugh grew more unhinged.
It was like she’d just processed what I’d said but still couldn’t believe it.
The temperature in the room seemed to plummet, sending a chill straight to my core.
Red essence hovered around her in a whirling aura.
My eyes went wide as my instincts kicked in.
Here I was, getting all sentimental over how gorgeous she looked—meanwhile, she was activating her damn Aspect.
My eyes fell to her hand, silently hoping I wasn’t about to see what I suspected.
No such luck—blood dripped from a small wound in her clenched fist.
“Fuck,” I blurted, panic rising.
I shoved my feet against the floor, driving my back into the couch until it nearly buckled.
At the same moment, Seraphina’s hand shaped blood into a rapier and flung it at me.
I rolled backwards, using the couch’s momentum to my advantage, but before I could react, a blood rapier tore through the fabric of the sofa, aiming for my head.
Luck was on my side—it only grazed my cheek.
Blood trickled down my cheek, staining the floor crimson.
Only then did I notice I was still breathing.
Adrenaline surged through my veins, cold sweat breaking out across my skin.
My relief was short-lived.
I snapped my hands up in surrender just as two miniature blood spears—drawn from my own blood—materialised and hovered near my left eye.
I gulped hard, understanding just how close I’d come to losing an eye.
Seraphina circled the couch, her face shadowed, revulsion twisting her porcelain features.
Those slit-pupil eyes gazed at mine as she parted her lips.
“Seeing you try to blackmail me, holding information no one should have, and acting so cunning—I figured Asmari Dragaoth, the useless heir of the Dragaoth family, had finally grown up.”
She spoke in a deceptively calm voice, her sharp eyes not once fixing on mine.
“But I was completely and utterly wrong.
“That same bastard who got rejected and then assaulted a princess on camera was not only alive and kicking—he’d somehow decided it was a great idea to propose to another princess, this time from an empire.”
“Slander,” I shot back.
“I didn’t assault her; I was actually framed.” The mini blood spears edged closer to my eyes, making me clamp my mouth shut. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
“Tsk, all that talk about Dragaoth’s pride and yet you’re as obedient as a dog.” The disdain in her voice was noticeable.
“Don’t misunderstand,” I said, a cocky grin tugging at my lips.
“I’m just playing along with my future wife’s whims.” The confidence in my tone was unmistakable.
The mini spear by my eye liquefied into blood, splattering on my jeans.
“Rude—those are expensive,” I muttered.
But Seraphina didn’t give a damn about my overpriced jeans.
A shadow hung over Seraphina’s face, her features darkening.
I heard the tapping of her shoes on the floor, growing louder as she approached.
Before I knew it, Seraphina was standing over me.
I was about to complain about my jeans again when a sharp pain shot through my left arm and I was hurled toward the wall.
Crash.
My body slammed into the wall, pain burning through my biceps where she’d kicked me and my skull where I hit first.
It felt like I’d been hit by a truck—my stomach convulsed, and I fought the urge to puke up my breakfast.
My head spun, a throbbing headache making my nausea worse.
Amid the haze and settling dust, I saw Seraphina striding toward me, her face twisted in a furious scowl.
I tried to force a smirk as I sat up, but pain coursed through my body, making it nearly impossible.
“Damn,” I coughed, forcing out a laugh.
“You’re fucking strong.”
Seraphina didn’t say a word; as soon as she reached me, she cocked her foot back and kicked me hard in the gut.
“Argh.” I let out a raw groan as the pain in my shoulder and head seemed to migrate straight to my gut, making me double over and puke on the floor.
At the same time, I heard knocks at the closed door.
“Sir, miss, is something wrong in there?” a young woman’s voice called out.
I ignored her completely and leaned against the wall, struggling to catch my breath.
Drool trickled from my lips as the taste of stomach acid lingered on my tongue.
But Seraphina wasn’t letting up.
She slammed her foot onto my chest and pressed down hard.
I groaned again, feeling my ribs creak under the pressure.
If anyone else had dared step on my chest, I’d have gone to any lengths to destroy them and their family.
But all I could think of as Seraphina pinned me down was how fucking hot she looked.
Yep, I’m completely fucking fried.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
“Hey, open up,” a deep voice yelled, violently tugging at the door handle and slamming his fist into the door.
But I couldn’t focus on him—not with my chest about to be crushed.
Suddenly, I felt a familiar presence—the same one from yesterday.
Seraphina stiffened, and the strain on my chest vanished.
Killing intent slammed into her; her legs gave way, and she collapsed to the floor.
Thud.
She dropped to her hands, barely holding herself up.
Her breathing was ragged, mouth open wide as she fought for air.
Her face was twisted with panic, one hand grasping her chest.
“Who dares step on me?” A commanding feminine voice resounded through both our minds.
My eyes widened first in shock, then in recognition.
“Enough.
Stop what you’re doing,” I commanded, addressing the spirit directly.
“I refuse,” she snapped.
Seraphina’s condition worsened instantly—she gasped for air, panic imprinted deep on her face.
“Just remove it.” I pressed.
“I won’t tolerate such disrespect, no matter who or what you are.
That’s final.” The instant her words resounded in my mind, my face drained of colour and my brain kicked into overdrive, scrambling for a way to save Seraphina.
My gaze never left Seraphina.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Desperation scratched at me, sweat dripping down my forehead as I frantically searched my mind for anything that could help.
I watched Seraphina’s eyelids flutter, her hand weakening—she was seconds from passing out.
Then, like a lightbulb flickering on, I remembered something.
I lifted my right arm and squeezed the left side of my chest.
“Hey, brat, let go of me,” the spirit snapped.
“Stop whatever you’re doing to her,” I ordered, tightening my grip before she could argue.
“Stop it,” I demanded again, my voice leaving no room for argument.
The sword spirit’s presence faded, and whatever power was crushing Seraphina slipped away—her breathing steadied.
She gulped in air as if she’d just discovered oxygen, coughing hard as tears threatened to spill from her eyes.
I crawled beside her despite the pain rushing through my body.
“Are you alive?” I asked, unable to hide the worry in my voice.
Okay, maybe not the best question, but can you blame me?
I’ve never been great at showing compassion when it counts.
I reached out to steady her, but she swatted my hand away.
“Don’t touch me,” she growled between breaths.
I stayed put and watched her recover.
She stood, trying to look tough, as if she hadn’t just brushed past death.
I pulled myself together, masking my worry with a smug composure.
Seraphina made straight for the banging door, but before she could open it, I spoke up.
“Wait.” She stopped and turned her head back, her ruby-red eyes staring me down.
“You still haven’t fulfilled the request.” Seraphina’s lips twitched.
Her eyes flashed with irritation and disbelief at my audacity.
Personally, I thought my demand was perfectly reasonable.
She crossed her arms.
“Are you fucking serious?” Okay, maybe her opinion of me was a tiny bit too low for marriage talk just yet.
“Okay, how about this: when I become a Black Star, you need to consider marrying me.” Seraphina scoffed.
“You?
Black Star?
Don’t even joke.
You’re the weakest noble in recorded history.
I don’t know what party trick you just pulled, but even that won’t make you Black Star.”
“Oh, and how confident are you that I won’t become the academy Black Star?”
“You must be joking.
If you somehow become Black Star, I’ll not only marry you, I’ll do whatever you say for the rest of my existence.”
I let my smile spread.
“Put your essence where your mouth is.” Seraphina’s eyebrows drew together.
I pulled an essence contract from my shirt and held it out to her.
“Here.” She took the paper, scanning it—her ruby eyes, now calm, missed nothing.
When she finished, her mouth fell open, and she stared into my amber eyes.
“When did you make this?”
“This morning,” I answered, a knowing smile on my lips.
“So you predicted this?” I didn’t answer—my smirk said it all.
“You arrogant, prideful, narcissistic son of a—” Looks like someone doesn’t like being outmanoeuvred.
After her rant, she poured her essence into the contract—finding nothing to change—then stormed out.
The owner barged in just as she left, taking in the battered room and my sorry state; he looked ready to explode.
But as soon as he saw my amber eyes, he turned into an obedient puppy, even asking if he should chase after the woman who’d wrecked me.
I was tempted to send him after her to mess with her, but decided to be merciful.
It’s not easy being this generous.
A/N
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