Deep within the underground prison, the air hung thick with damp cold.

"Put them in the torture room," the Emperor commands. "I will investigate them myself."

Rahert bows instantly and exits, sealing the heavy iron door behind him. The room becomes a private hell, illuminated only by the flickering orange glow of a single torch. The room was full of torture tools and so horrible that it will scare a person out of death.

The Emperor steps closer to the two men chained to the wall. "Now,” he whispered,” Tell me, who sent you?"

"I... I know nothing!" the first assassin rasps, spitting blood onto the stone floor. "We were just given a contract through the underworld network! We don't know the client!"

Schwing!

A flash of silver cuts through the dim light. The Emperor draws his sword in a movement so blindingly fast that the sound of the blade slicing through the air happens at the exact same time as a sickening thud.

The assassin's left arm hits the floor.

A agonizing scream rips through the dungeon, echoing off the damp stone walls. The man writhes in his chains, clutching his bleeding shoulder in pure agony.

"Now, I think you will remember," the Emperor whispers, stepping into the splash of light. His eyes burn a fierce, demonic red. He presses the cold tip of his blood-stained blade right against the second assassin's throat. "How dare you try to touch her. Speak before I peel off your skin. I will let you die easily if you talk, but make no mistake neither of you are going to die until you tell me everything."

The sheer weight of his bloodlust suffocates the room. The second assassin breaks down instantly, tears of pure terror mixing with the sweat on his face.

"I-I will tell! I will tell!" the man screeches, his voice shaking violently. "It was …"

But before the name can leave his lips, the man's eyes roll back into his head. His jaw locks tightly, and his limbs begin to jerk and twitch violently against the heavy chains.

Gaggh!

A heavy spray of black, foul-smelling blood bursts from his mouth, staining the front of his tunic. The first assassin, despite his own agony, starts convulsing in the exact same manner, blood pouring from his nose and eyes.

"Tch!" The Emperor steps back, clicking his tongue in dark irritation as the two men go completely limp in their restraints, their life force completely extinguished.

He sheathes his sword, staring at the black blood pooling on the floor. It isn't normal poison. The dark veins bulging on their necks form a faint, intricate geometric pattern before fading away entirely.

A restriction magic. Someone placed a deadly curse on their hearts the moment they attempted to speak the  name, the magic triggered to destroy them from the inside out.

"Call Harthen," the Emperor commands, his voice echoing coldly against the stone walls. "We still have one left."

He looks back at the first assassin, who is barely clinging to consciousness after the magic curse wrecked his body. A dark, merciless smile pulls at the corner of the Emperor's lips.

"Make his life hell until Harthen comes," he instructs Rahert, who has just slipped back into the room. "Once we manage to extract even a shred of information from him, take his head and put his neck right on the capital gate. Let everyone in this empire see it. I want them to know exactly what happens when they touch what belongs to me."

On his way back from the dungeon, his feet carried him without thinking, stopping right in front of Charlotte’s door.

What am I doing here?" he thought. His hand reached toward the door handle, only to freeze in place. Shaking his head, he turned on his heel and retreated to his own chambers.

As the week passes, the tension in the palace reaches a boiling point, but the days blur together in a flurry of hidden investigations and frantic preparations. And then, before I can even mentally prepare myself, the fateful morning arrives.

Here comes the wedding day.

The sun hasn't even fully cleared the horizon when a huge number of maids burst into my room, completely catching me off guard. From that exact moment, I honestly have no idea what they are doing to me.

They drag me to a massive bath scented with rare oils, scrub my skin until it's practically glowing, and spend hours brushing, curling, and styling my hair. I know it's my wedding day, but this entire process is nothing less than another intense round of sword training it is so utterly tiring.

Back in the Arcadia Empire, I lived in standard military barracks or simple chambers, completely neglected by the royal court. I never received this type of luxurious, overwhelming service in my whole life, and quite frankly, it's exhausting me more than a twenty-mile march in full armor.

They insist on bathing me a private ritual that I have always done entirely by myself, even on the bloodiest battlefields.

Then comes the makeup. In my whole life, I have never used a single brush or powder. As they apply layers of cream and paint to my face, I can't help but feel a sudden wave of bitterness. What is the point of all this? Do they really think these accessories and colors will make a difference? The thing that is ugly will always remain hideous, no whatever you do with it. My hands are calloused, and my soul is stained with the dirt of war. And then there's my bright red hair—the hair everyone says looks like spilled blood. Kids used to be terrified of me just because of its color. I don't think a bit of powder will ever change any of that.

Staring blankly at the dressing table, a buried memory from my past life slips into my mind. I remember how I sometimes used to secretly envy the noble ladies of the court. I would watch them glide past in their beautiful dresses, enjoying the luxury of having tea in quiet gardens and gossiping without a care in the world. I never had that. I never even had a single friend. My only companions were my sword and the cold mud of the trenches.

"Princess, you're ready," the head maid announces softly, stepping back.

"Oh my god... Princess!"

A collective gasp ripples through the room. I blink, snapped out of my thoughts by the sudden silence. All the maids are staring at me, their hands pressed to their mouths, eyes wide with absolute awe.

Frowning, a spark of curiosity catches in my chest. I turn my head and look at myself in the large, gold-framed mirror.

My breath catches.

So... an ugly thing could actually look beautiful.

The reflection staring back at me doesn't look like a scarred, discarded commander. The stunning white A-line gown fits my frame perfectly, featuring an elegant off-the-shoulder neckline and sheer, three-quarter-length lace sleeves that highlight a sharp, regal elegance I didn't know I possessed. Intricate floral appliqués sweep down the fitted bodice and spill into airy layers of soft tulle, making me feel completely transformed. Even my red  cursed hair was looking astonishing. My skin glows under the light, and the jewels catch the morning sun like stars. I am definitely looking just like the very noble ladies I used to envy so intensely.

A small, genuine smile tugs at the corner of my lips. It makes me a little bit happy just for a fleeting moment, I feel like a true bride.

The heavy oak doors of my chambers creak open, and the imperial escort steps forward with a deep bow.

"Princess, it's time to go."

The massive, golden doors of the grand cathedral swing open, and a hush falls over the entire imperial court.

Taking a deep breath, I step forward and begin my walk down the long, velvet aisle. Thousands of eyes are on me, but I don't see any of them. My gaze is locked entirely on the altar.

And he was looking at me intensely his gaze heavy with an emotion I couldn't quite name.

Finally, my yearning comes to an end, Claude thought as he stared at her. She looks so beautiful. I have always loved everything red the crimson flowers, the scarlet-feathered birds, even the red moon that others so deeply feared. Even the blood on the battlefield reminded me of you. And today, I have finally fulfilled the promise we made all those years ago.

He is standing there, waiting for me. He was wearing a dark reddish-purple vest under a structured grey jacket with gold-embroidered cuffs. A long, regal red cape lined in white draped over his shoulders, accented with decorative gold epaulets and a light pink sash bound by a dark belt. Completing the look, a black high-collared tie rested at his neck while a jeweled sword hilt hung at his hip that I chose from the catalog, looking incredibly handsome and powerful. As I draw closer, his dark eyes fixate entirely on my face. For the first time in my whole life, a wave of pure embarrassment washes over me. My cheeks flush beneath the makeup, and my heart starts hammering against my ribs, making me feel utterly breathless.

When I finally reach the altar, he steps forward, moving his hand toward me with absolute grace to help me up the marble steps. His large, warm fingers wrap securely around mine.

Why? My mind screams in confusion as I look up at him. Why is he so incredibly nice to me?

The high priest steps between us, raising his hands to invoke the ancient blessings of the empire, his voice echoing through the vaulted stone ceilings.

"In the sight of the heavens and the imperial court, we are gathered here today to unite two formidable fates. Do you, Claude de Vermon, the Emperor of the Dawn Empire, take Charlotte von Arcadia to be your lawfully wedded Empress, to protect her, honor her, and rule by her side through victory and peace alike?"

"I do," Claude's deep voice resonates through the cathedral, unwavering and absolute.

"And do you, Charlotte von Arcadia, princess of the Arcadia Empire, take Claude de Vermon to be your lawfully wedded Emperor, to stand by his side, share his burdens, and bind your soul to the Dawn Empire?"

I swallow the lump in my throat, my voice steady despite the chaos in my chest. "I do."

" you may now exchange the tokens of your eternal vow."

Rahert steps forward with a velvet cushion. Claude takes the platinum ring, encrusted with rare diamonds, and slowly slips it onto my finger. My hands tremble slightly, but I take the ring and slide it onto his finger, sealing the binding contract of our marriage.

The high priest smiles benevolently, spreading his arms to the cheering crowd. "I now pronounce you Emperor and Empress of the Dawn Empire. To seal this holy covenant, you may now kiss."

What!!!

The word screeches to a halt in my mind, my composure completely shattering. No one told me about that part! There is no running away from this, the entire empire is watching, and Claude is already leaning down, his face inches from mine.