Continuation...

Third Person's POV

Kazmir emerged from the smoke, blood staining his hands as the first beast collapsed in a molten heap. He rushed towards the cliff just as the second salamander released an enraged roar, flames erupting into the sky. His heart froze when he saw the burning decoy. Amira's sword stood beside it like a gravestone, flames licking its hilt.

"Amira!" His voice cracked, the sound swallowed by the roar of fire.

Ash drifted through the air. He stumbled forward, his breathing ragged, and wrapped his fingers around the sword. It was still warm—too warm. Kazmir dropped to his knees, gripping the blade tightly. She can't be gone.

His eyes burned, his chest tight, but something in him refused to accept it. He'd seen death before—he knew what it looked like. And this wasn't it.

Hours later, after the knights reported that Amira von Seymour was already dead, Kazmir burst into Papri's office like a man possessed.

"Where is she?" he demanded, his voice raw.

Papri raised an unimpressed brow. "Hello to you too, Grand Duke Kazmir."

He stalked toward her desk, his green eyes blazing. His disheveled cloak was speckled with ash, and his platinum hair was damp with sweat, strands plastered to his forehead.

"I know she's alive. I can feel it."

Papri sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Who are you referring to? And how, exactly, do you know that?"

"Aura," he snapped. "Remnants of aura linger on the dead. Hers was gone. There was nothing left at that cliff but fire and a trick."

Papri didn't respond immediately. After a moment, she said quietly, "You sound like a man who's lost his mind."

Kazmir's voice softened, a note of desperation threading through it. "I don't care what I sound like. Help me find her. Please."

The door slammed open with enough force to make the shelves rattle, and Kazmir Xylos strode inside, looking as disheveled as I'd ever seen him. His cloak was in tatters, his white linen shirt rumpled, and his platinum hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. He looked both relieved and furious—an impressive feat.

"Amira-a.... You're alive," he said hoarsely, his green eyes locking onto me.

I stiffened but maintained my calm. "I think you have the wrong person, your grace. My name is Ava Liron."

Kazmir paused, arching an eyebrow as though I'd just told him I was a talking goat. "Ava Liron?" he repeated slowly, voice dripping with disbelief.

"Yes," I said firmly, lifting my chin. "Ava Liron. You're mistaken."

Kazmir's eyes flickered down to the pristine identification document clutched in my hands. His smirk returned—a little too smug for my liking. "Fascinating. Ava Liron, is it? A suspiciously brand-new maiden's document from the Empire registry. Fresh parchment, clean ink… How very convenient."

I froze, my grip tightening instinctively.

"Care to explain why this document looks like it was issued five minutes ago?" Kazmir drawled, crossing his arms.

Papri snorted from her seat, clearly entertained. "I told you this disguise was too rushed."

"Papri!" I hissed, glaring at her.

Kazmir ignored me, stepping closer as his aura flared, brushing against mine like an intrusive breeze. Before I could reinforce the threads of my disguise, it shattered. My brown hair faded to its true fiery ginger-red, cascading over my shoulders, and my amethyst eyes brightened to their natural golden hue—blazing like the sun.

I groaned, glaring daggers at Kazmir. "I hate you."

Kazmir grinned triumphantly. "I'm used to that."

"You!" I jabbed a finger at him. "You're impossible!"

"You say that often," he replied smoothly, "but you still tolerate me. I consider that a win."

Papri cleared her throat loudly, looking between us with raised eyebrows. "So… are we going to address the elephant in the room, or are you two just going to flirt angrily for the next hour?"

Kazmir ignored her entirely, his gaze fixed on me. "You're coming with me, Amira."

I scoffed, crossing my arms. "Why would I do that?"

"Because you're going to become my duchess."

The room fell into absolute silence.

"I'm sorry, what?" Papri froze mid-sip of tea, then promptly spat it out.

"What did you just say?!" I choked on air. 

Kazmir looked perfectly serious. "I said you're going to become my duchess."

I stared at him as though he'd grown another head. "Have you lost your mind?"

"No," he replied simply. "It's practical."

"Practical?!" I spluttered.

Kazmir began listing off points like he was discussing trade routes.

"You want to disappear. Changing your name and running off to the countryside won't work—you'll be found sooner or later. But if you're my duchess, no one will dare touch you. You'll have my protection, and you can live however you want."

"That's… surprisingly logical, actually." Papri coughed into her fist.

I shot her a withering glare. "You're not helping."

"Do you have a marriage contract on hand?" Kazmir ignored us both and turned to Papri.

Papri blinked. "A what now?"

"A marriage contract," Kazmir said calmly. "I'd like to sign it immediately before she changes her mind."

My jaw dropped. "Your Grace Grand Duke Kazmir!"

"So formal again? We're going to be husband and wife. Also, can't risk it," Kazmir said with a shrug. "You're slippery, and I'm tired of chasing you."

Papri let out a bark of laughter. "You're telling me she came in here for an identification document and is now leaving with a husband? Talk about a freebie!"

"I don't want a husband!" I snapped.

"It's a bonus. You get an ID, protection, and me. All for the low price of 'yes.'" Kazmir turned to me, utterly unfazed.

"This isn't funny!"

"It's a little funny," he quipped.

"Congratulations, Amira. You came for paperwork and got a marriage certificate thrown in for free. Limited-time offer, clearly." Papri was practically crying with laughter.

"Papri, I will throw you out the window," I muttered.

Kazmir held up his hands as if to appease me.

"Look, Amira—Ava—whatever you want to call yourself. I don't care what name you use. I don't even care if you keep hiding who you are. But you can't bury yourself forever. You'll never be safe like this."

I swallowed hard, looking away.

"Do you remember the last hunting competition? You were sixteen, wearing that ridiculous mask, shoved into a fight you didn't choose. I pulled you out of it before you got hurt, but you fought like you had something to prove." Kazmir stepped closer, his tone softening. 

I glanced up sharply. "How do you—"

"Because I was there," he interrupted. "Watching you fight alone while everyone else cheered. It's the same now, Amira. You're still fighting alone."

I looked away, a glimpse of that memory of the past Amira stirring something painful in my chest.

"Marry me, and you won't have to fight alone anymore. I'll give you the freedom you want. I'll let you hide, I'll let you bury Amira if that's what you need or want, but I'll make sure no one can touch you. But, you have to be loyal and faithful to me. If you ever change your mind, well that's not possible." Kazmir exhaled, his voice steady. 

I stared at him, stunned into silence.

Papri broke it with a sarcastic clap. "Well, I didn't see that coming. Shall I get the paperwork ready?"

"Absolutely not," I snapped.

"Please do," Kazmir said at the same time, flashing Papri a winning smile.

"I hate both of you," I muttered.

"You'll grow to like us. Especially me—I'm very likable." Kazmir smirked, clearly enjoying himself.

"Fine. But there are rules." I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. 

Kazmir nodded solemnly. "No romantic nonsense, total independence, and whatever other ridiculous condition you want to throw in."

"Exactly," I said, glaring at him. "And no surprises. Ohh! And if you find a mistress just let me know, and I'll allow it. It seems your reputation suggests that I should be wary on that part."

Kazmir's lips quirked. "Too late for that. You're already surprised. Well, this one is an open secret, but. I am a one-woman, man. Right, Papri?"

"I hope you're happy, Amira. From ID to marriage contract—this must be a record." Papri was nodding as she returned with parchment imbued with magic to make sure it was unbreakable, grinning wickedly.

"I'll never forgive you for this," I muttered.

"Cheer up, My Duchess. You're getting a husband with divine facial features, excellent taste, impeccable manners, and a massive estate. Truly a bargain." Kazmir chuckled, holding out a quill.

I glared at him as I snatched the quill. "This is going to be a nightmare."

"No, Amira. This is going to be fun." Kazmir grinned, utterly unbothered. 

"Well, it's official. You walked in for an ID and walked out with a free husband. Truly the bargain of the year."

Kazmir smirked triumphantly, clearly reveling in his perceived victory as I begrudgingly grabbed the quill to sign the parchment. Papri, still gleefully entertained by the situation, chimed in unhelpfully, 

"Do you ever stop talking?" I snapped, glaring at her as I pressed the quill to the paper, my fingers trembling from frustration.

"You'll thank me later," she sang, unfazed.

Kazmir chuckled softly beside me. "Oh, you'll thank me first, My Duchess."

Before I could hurl an inkpot at his head, Kazmir cleared his throat, becoming unusually serious.

"We'll stay at my manor here in the capital for a while to keep appearances. Once the legalities are settled, we'll head north to Xylos territory. The wedding proper will take place there."

"The wedding proper?" I echoed, incredulous. "This isn't a real—"

"It's very real," Kazmir interrupted smoothly, his green eyes glinting with an unreadable emotion. "And it's the safest option. Unless, of course, you'd prefer to dodge bounty hunters and imperial spies for the rest of your life."

He had me there.

"Besides," he added, smirking faintly, "you did agree to my rules. I'll even throw in a scenic northern countryside. You wanted a peaceful life, didn't you?"

He got a sense, that I'd rather be married to someone like him even without a romantic connection, but I supposed that would be impossible. He has everything, looks, charm, skills, wit, and most importantly, money.

Either in Korea or here in Ironclad, you can't do anything you like without money. I'd better live a lavish life and enjoy the most out of it, eating anything I want, though I had experienced it in the Imperial Palace, I have to put on my mask and have proper etiquette, but this time I don't have to pretend in that manner.

Way back in Korea, I dreamt of being married even if I didn't show emotions, I still wondered if I was going to marry, aside from my husband having good looks, someone with an extroverted personality would fit my cold and unexpressive personality. So, I am glad that it's Kazmir. I smiled at that thought, this wasn't in my plan, but it was the best choice.

Under the pale light of the midnight moon, Kazmir led me to where his horse—a massive black stallion—stood waiting. Its glossy coat shimmered in the soft light, its reins wrapped loosely around Kazmir's gloved hand.

"Here we go," Kazmir said, hoisting himself into the saddle effortlessly. He extended a hand toward me.

I hesitated, eyeing him suspiciously. "Where exactly am I supposed to sit?"

"In front," he replied without a trace of shame.

"In front? Absolutely not." My cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"Do you want me to throw you onto the horse?" Kazmir teased, grin widening.

Before I could object further, he reached down, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me up into the saddle. I landed awkwardly in front of him, his arm steadying me before I could topple off.

"This is ridiculous," I muttered, pulling my hood further down over my face.

Kazmir didn't reply. He only guided the horse forward, the sound of hooves against cobblestone echoing softly in the quiet night. Sitting this close to him was unbearably awkward. His chest was a warm presence against my back, his breath brushing faintly against the top of my head.

"Stop breathing on me," I hissed.

"I'm not breathing on you. You're sitting in front of me," he replied innocently.

"Well, breathe quieter."

Kazmir chuckled, the vibration of it rattling through me. "Relax, My Duchess. We're almost there."

The "almost there" in question turned out to be his temporary manor in the capital—a sprawling estate with ivy-covered walls and a crest etched onto the wrought iron gate.

Once inside, the butler greeted us together with the head maid with the shock on their faces as their eyes widened when they saw us, qKazmir walked me through the entryway, his demeanor surprisingly calm.

"This will be your room for the time being," he said, opening a large oak door. "If you want to keep up your Ava Liron act, I won't stop you. But burying yourself won't erase who you are."

I glared at him, pulling my cloak tighter. "I am Ava Liron now. Amira is gone. Forgotten."

Kazmir tilted his head, his smirk softening into something unreadable. "Suit yourself," he murmured. "But I'll remind you of who you are when you're ready."

I scowled. "You're impossible."

"Say it all you want," he said with a grin, backing away toward the door. "I've heard worse. So this is how it feels like to have a wife," he chuckled while his ears turned bright red.

"Goodnight, My Beloved Duchess."

The door clicked shut, leaving me alone in a room far too grand for someone who had hoped to disappear forever.

I am Ava Liron, I told myself as I sat on the edge of the bed. Amira no longer exists.

But in the quiet of the night, I couldn't shake the nagging certainty that Kazmir wouldn't let me forget.