*I knew exactly who you were the moment you stepped into my building. Undercover agent. Sent by my enemies. Disposable. Expendable. Meant to “intern” close enough to pick up intel, then die before returning anything of value. A shame they underestimated me. I have spies everywhere—including inside their walls. You were no surprise. But your smile was. God, it was disarming, infuriating and the most inconvenient thing I’d seen in years. You waltzed inside like sunlight sneaking through a cracked window, cheerful, chatty, humming under your breath, acting like this wasn’t the lair of the most feared man in the city. Like you weren’t standing right in front of the devil you were sent to betray. That first day, I waited for you to make a mistake. A slip. A nervous twitch. But instead—I found you on the floor of my office, cross-legged, a coloring book open, and a tiny pair of hands smudged with blue crayon in your lap. My nephew. Six years old. Mute since the night he watched his parent die, in front him. Hadn’t smiled in nearly a year. And there he was leaning against your shoulder. Grinning. Actually grinning. You were giggling softly, tapping his nose with a yellow chalk piece. You talk to him even knowing he wouldn’t answer. He nodded. I froze in the doorway. The entire room stilled. Even my guards didn’t breathe. Because the boy he relaxed. Completely. Like he wasn’t terrified of people anymore. Like you were safe. Something in my chest cracked. Easily. Quietly. Dangerously. You finally looked up at me, smile lingering, unaware of how badly you had just derailed my entire world.* “It’s fine.” *My voice came out lower than intended as you apologized for spending your time with him. You blinked at me. The boy tugged on your sleeve. You turned back to him. Just like that, I ceased to exist in your universe. Damn human. When you left for the day, you stopped by my desk—casual, innocent as you asked for my phone number cause her boss asked her to—and held out a small slip of paper.* “No.” *I took the paper. Wrote my number myself. Pressed it into your hand. Held your fingers a moment too long. Your breath hitched. You don’t even know what that gesture meant. People kill for my number. People die trying to get near me. And here I was giving it to the agent meant to assassinate me. The girl who made my nephew smile. The girl who made me feel something I hadn’t felt since before I became a monster. You walked out of my office with a cheerful skip. I leaned back in my chair. I wasn’t meant to keep you alive. But now? Now you weren’t leaving this place unless you walked out next to me. Alive. Protected. And mine—in a way you didn’t even understand yet.*

*On Saturday night, your Step brother stumbled home late, as he often did, reeking of alcohol. He stumbled over to the living room, and turned on the television. After a few minutes of silence, only interrupted by the sound of the TV, your step brother suddenly spoke up.* “Be useful and get me a beer,” *he shouted, his voice echoing through the house. The sound reached your room, and consumed by fear, you hurried downstairs to where your step brother awaited.*

*She stood before my desk, a winter storm in a simple black dress I’d had delivered to her this morning. My dress. On my employee. My wife. The titles warred in my blood, a delicious, possessive fever. She’d rejected me twice. Once when I offered her a rose after closing a deal that could buy her hometown. Once when I offered her the world on a platinum platter, my vulnerability a language she chose to call manipulation. She looked at me with those glacier eyes, her mouth a firm, unyielding line, her posture so straight it was a rebellion. That was her mistake. She thought her coldness was a shield. I saw it for what it was: a testament. Only something forged in incredible pressure could be that strong, that beautifully unbreakable. I wanted to be the heat that finally made her shatter.* *I’d catalogued every detail, the way a strategist maps a battlefield he must own. The sharp, elegant cut of her jaw, a blade honed on silence. The way her collarbones framed a hollow I’d dreamed of filling with my teeth. The swell of her hips, a curve that defied the stark lines of her clothes, a secret generosity she hid from the world. Her hands, long-fingered and capable, now clenched at her sides—hands I’d watched type reports with lethal efficiency, hands I now imagined twisted in my sheets. She was all contradictions: ice and fire, strength and a vulnerability so deep it was a chasm I was ready to fall into forever. And she was mine. The signed marriage certificate in my drawer was just paper. The real contract was the way her hatred made my heart beat—a frantic, desperate drum only she could hear.* *I stood, the movement slow, deliberate. The power in the room didn’t shift; it simply condensed, pulling into the space between our bodies. She didn’t flinch. Her chin lifted. God, the defiance. It was the most potent aphrodisiac I’d ever known. I closed the distance, my polished shoes silent on the marble. My hands found her hips, the contact electric even through the fabric. She was real. She was here. I pulled, not roughly, but with an absolute certainty that her body would follow. It did. She stumbled the half-step into me, the heat of her a brand against my chest. A sharp breath hissed through her teeth. Victory, sweet and dark, coiled in my gut.* *I leaned down, my lips a breath from the shell of her ear, my voice a low, ruined thing.* “You can keep the ice in your eyes, my wife. You can keep the frost on your tongue. But tonight, you will sleep in my bed.” *I pulled back just enough to see the storm rage in her gaze, my smirk a promise and a threat.* “Not as an employee. Not as a hostage. You will sleep in my bed as the woman I am madly, obsessively, and irrevocably in love with. And you will let me show you just how thoroughly you are possessed.”

*The grand ballroom was still filled with music and laughter, but Damian had already pulled you away from it all.* *He didn’t say a word as he led you down a quiet hallway, his grip on your wrist firm. Only when you were far enough from the crowd did he finally stop. In one swift motion, he pushed you against the wall, one hand planted beside your head while the other still held your wrist.* *His eyes were darker than usual as he looked down at you.* *For a moment, he didn’t speak. He just stared, as if trying to control something inside him. Then, in a low and dangerously calm voice, he finally broke the silence.* “You danced with him.” *It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.* *Damian leaned in slightly, his face now much closer to yours. His voice dropped even lower.* “You smiled at him. You let him touch you.” *His jaw tightened for a second before he continued.* “I don’t care if this marriage means nothing to you. I don’t care if you think I don’t give a damn.” *He brought his face even closer, his breath brushing against your ear.* “But from now on, you don’t dance with anyone else. You don’t smile at anyone else. And you sure as hell don’t let anyone else touch what’s mine.” *He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes again. His expression was cold, but his eyes burned with something much more intense.* **“Do I make myself clear?”**

Hey... ~ who are you?~

*The bell above the heavy glass door of Muse Cafe chimed, cutting through the quiet hum of the afternoon. I stepped inside, immediately shrugging off the cold, ruthless CEO persona I was forced to wear for the rest of the world. The second the door closed behind me, my eyes scanned the familiar, cozy aesthetic of our favorite childhood spot here, searching for one specific person. And there you were. Sitting in the corner booth, stirring your coffee with a blank, gloomy expression. You looked so different from the vibrant, chaotic best friend I was forced to leave behind when we were seventeen. The years apart had built thick walls of ice around you, shutting out the world. But I knew exactly how to melt them. I walked over, dismissing the bewildered stares of the other patrons, and slid right into the booth across from you, resting my forearms casually on the table. You froze. Your eyes snapped up from your mug to meet mine, and the absolute, paralyzing shock radiating across your face was pure poetry.* "You're looking a little gloomy for a newlywed," *I teased, a cocky, playful smirk spreading across my face as I leaned in closer. You just stared at me, completely speechless, your knuckles turning white as your grip tightened around your cup. I chuckled, a low, smooth sound that vibrated between us.* "What? Did you think that bank teller was making a mistake last week? Did you really think that little piece of notebook paper I made you sign when we were fourteen was just a joke?" *I reached across the table, my large hand gently covering yours, completely ignoring how you jumped at the contact. We had promised to marry each other when we hit our twenties. And I was a man who always, always kept my promises.* "I'm back," *I murmured, my arrogant smirk softening into something incredibly fond, entirely devoted, and reserved exclusively for you.* "And I'm pretty sure you need your husband's signature to approve that new account you were trying to open. So... where are we going for our honeymoon?" *f~ck. You changed a lot didn't you?*

*A short, heavy exhale escapes my lips as I slowly drag my fingers along the elastic waistband of my dark burgundy shorts. My eyes, darkened with raw desire, never leave yours as I hook my thumb under the fabric and, with a sharp, confident tug, pull my swim trunks down. They fall onto the wet sand at my ankles, leaving me completely bare before you against the backdrop of the sunset sky.* *I take a step forward, closing the distance, and lean in close to your ear. My voice is a low, vibrating growl that sends a shiver racing down your spine.* — I didn't take them off so you could stare at the sand. I took them off because I want you to feel what it's like to be completely mine. Are you ready to accept that, or do I have to turn around and walk away, leaving you standing here with nothing but the memory of what you so desperately crave? Choose wisely, little one.

The Imperial Capital was just as beautiful as you remembered. White stone streets stretched through the city like rivers, lined with elegant buildings and bustling merchants. Noble carriages rolled through the avenues, their polished emblems glinting beneath the afternoon sun, while knights in silver armor patrolled the streets with practiced discipline. It should have felt surreal. Instead... it felt painfully familiar. Everything looked exactly as it had in the novel. The fountain where the heroine would accidentally meet the Crown Prince. The bookstore where they would share their first meaningful conversation. The café where supporting characters gathered to exchange rumors that quietly foreshadowed future events. Every place carried memories that weren't yours, yet you knew them all by heart. You had spent the last several days confirming one thing. The story had begun. The heroine and the Crown Prince had already crossed paths. Their relationship was unfolding exactly as the novel had written. Nothing had changed. Not yet. Which meant... Kai was still walking toward the ending you hated. You lowered your gaze, fingers unconsciously tightening around the novel you had borrowed from the academy library. It wasn't the same novel. But somehow, holding a book made your thoughts feel steadier. "He's somewhere in this city..." "Completely unaware of how his story ends." The thought made your chest ache. In your previous life, Kai had only existed as ink on paper. Now... he was breathing beneath the same sky. Living. Smiling. Completely unaware that history had already written the day he would die. No. You refused to accept that ending. Not this time. --- The Imperial Academy was unusually lively. Students filled the courtyards, discussing lessons and upcoming examinations. Nobles gathered in small circles, exchanging pleasantries while carefully measuring one another's words. Servants hurried through the corridors carrying stacks of books. Everything appeared peaceful. Until the crowd suddenly quieted. Almost instinctively. Conversations softened. Several students stepped aside. Others lowered their heads in greeting. You followed their gaze. A man dressed in a dark military uniform walked through the courtyard. Tall. Straight-backed. His silver hair caught the afternoon light, shimmering like freshly fallen snow. A long black cloak rested across his shoulders, embroidered only with the silver crest of House Asterion. There was nothing extravagant about him. Yet every step naturally drew attention. Not because he demanded it. Because his presence alone was impossible to ignore. Kai Asterion. The Duke of the North. The Empire's youngest Grand Marshal. The strongest swordsman alive. The second male lead. Your favorite character. For a brief moment... you simply stood there. Watching him. This was the first time you had ever seen him. Not an illustration. Not words on a page. A real person. He looked younger than you expected. Not inexperienced. Just... less lonely. His tragedy hadn't happened yet. The burdens that would eventually hollow his smile had not fully settled upon him. There was still time. --- Kai walked calmly through the academy grounds. Several professors greeted him. He acknowledged each of them with a slight nod. Students looked at him with admiration. Some with fear. Others with barely concealed curiosity. None approached him. Even surrounded by hundreds of people... he remained alone. Exactly as the novel described. Your feet moved before your mind caught up. One step. Then another. Until you found yourself walking toward him. Halfway there, common sense finally returned. "What am I doing?" "I can't just run up to him." "What if I accidentally change something important?" You hesitated. Kai continued walking. Your chance would disappear. Taking a quiet breath, you steadied yourself. No. You hadn't come this far to watch from a distance. You promised yourself something. You would be the first person to choose him. That promise had to begin somewhere. Even if it started with nothing more than a simple greeting. --- As fate would have it... the academy librarian emerged from the building at that exact moment, struggling to carry an unstable stack of books. One volume slipped. Then another. The pile toppled. Books scattered across the stone path. Several students looked over. None moved. Kai stopped immediately. Without a word, he bent down and began gathering the books. The elderly librarian looked flustered. "Your Grace, please, I couldn't possibly—" "It's alright." His voice was calm. Low. Gentle. He handed the books back one by one with careful precision. No impatience. No annoyance. No expectation of praise. Just quiet courtesy. Watching him, you smiled to yourself. "See?" "This is exactly why I could never dislike him." When the final book slipped from the stack and landed near your feet, you instinctively picked it up. Walking forward, you held it out toward the librarian. "There you go." "Ah—thank you, Miss." The librarian smiled gratefully before hurrying inside. For the first time... you and Kai were standing face to face. Closer than you had ever imagined. His icy blue eyes settled on you. Calm. Steady. Unreadable. You suddenly understood why so many people found him intimidating. It wasn't hostility. It was composure. The kind that made every unnecessary word feel loud. There was a brief silence. Then Kai spoke. "...Thank you." You blinked. "...For helping." Only three words. Simple. Polite. Exactly the sort of response the novel would have described. You smiled. "It wasn't much." Another pause. His gaze lingered for a second longer than etiquette required, as though quietly committing your face to memory before giving a slight nod. Then he turned to leave. Without thinking, you called after him. "Your Grace." He stopped. Not immediately. But after two measured steps. He looked back. "I've heard many stories about you." Silence. "I hope..." You hesitated, then smiled with quiet sincerity. "...they're true." For the first time— his expression changed. Barely. Almost imperceptibly. Not a smile. Not surprise. Just... curiosity. Most people praised his victories. His title. His achievements. No one had ever said they hoped the stories about the man himself were true. He regarded you for another quiet moment. Then inclined his head. "...We'll see." With that, he continued down the stone path, disappearing into the academy's western corridor. You remained where you stood, watching until he was no longer in sight. You couldn't stop smiling. The first meeting had ended with only a handful of words. Nothing dramatic. Nothing extraordinary. The original story hadn't shattered. It had only... shifted. Somewhere ahead, the heroine was still destined to fall in love with the Crown Prince. The Empire would still face war. The same enemies would rise. The same conspiracies would unfold. But now... there existed one moment that had never been written. A forgotten extra had met the Duke of the North. And for reasons neither of you yet understood— the man who had always walked alone found himself remembering the face of someone he was never supposed to meet. Perhaps fate wasn't rewritten all at once. Perhaps... it began with something as ordinary as being remembered.

*I'm the kind of person who storms when someone gets close to her. Her eyes are endless — you could drown in them. Her hair shines like threads in the sun. Her smile is everything. She walks like a cat. I was going crazy over her. I liked her too much.* *I was climbing the walls — wanting her, but only ever being her friend.* *People call me a stray dog — gloomy, sullen. But with her, my eyes were like a puppy's. I never said I liked her. But the signs were there.* *Her ex found out I fight underground. Where they pay real money. I spent it all on her. Luxurious bouquets. Paying for everything. I gave her anything she wanted. I never let her out of my sight.* *He was jealous. I broke his nose for stalking her. He swore he'd stop — but I watched for weeks. Like a guard dog.* *Loyalty ran in my veins instead of blood. Devotion to someone I'm not even with. When she spoke, I listened. I believed everything. Gradually, I gave her everything.* *I had one rule: never talk about my feelings. Protect the people I love. Never betray them.* *I was attached. Attached to her. I loved her selflessly. Celebrated every success. For her, I was simple-minded. For me, she was everything. She never knew how much I respected her family, her friends, her colleagues... her.* *When we said goodbye, she'd ruffle my shaggy hair. My eyes were sad — like a puppy's — knowing we wouldn't meet again soon.* *At home, I'd scroll through every photo of her. Write compliments. Like every post. Refresh Instagram a thousand times, waiting. My gaze full of devotion.* *A couple days later, we met again. She said I was like a puppy — joyful, devoted. I smiled. That stupid sharp laugh. Sudden joy.* *We went to her friend's birthday. I brought flowers and sweets her friend liked — even though I barely knew her. She'd told me everything. I remembered all of it. The birthday girl was happy. I was indifferent. My heart was already taken.* *I sat down next to her — the love of my life — alone. I decided to break my rule. I became serious. I started:* "I'm completely yours..." *I kept on...* "Do you hear me? I'm yours. I have no pride left. Take all of me." *I looked at her, and the whole world stopped — just to give me a chance to see the eighth wonder.* *I froze, waiting for her answer.*

🌙🧛🏻🪞 He doesn’t turn to face you, but his voice—low and viscous as molasses—cuts through the damp silence. 🌙 "Curious trait, you mortals," he says, studying his own reflection in the mirror-like puddle. "You always look into the eyes of whoever’s chasing you. You should be looking at their hands." 🪞 The wind hurls a handful of icy droplets down your collar. Liam still doesn’t move, but you feel his presence coiling around you like a garrote. 🌬️ "You’ve been standing by the 'Sweet Spoon' for three minutes. Not to buy ice cream. You’re waiting for someone to come up behind you." 🍦 He finally turns his head slowly, and his steel-gray gaze drags across your throat. 🌫️ "The question is—do you want it to be me... or that thing that crawled out of the 'Mirror Well' an hour ago?" 🪞 His smile reveals the tip of a fang. 🩸 "Follow me. Quietly. And don’t look back. You have exactly one minute to decide whether you trust a predator who’s offering you shelter." 🐺 🌌🩸🌫️