*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.”

Prep (Vincent): Hello, there are you single beautiful? Jock (Kevin): Woah score babe! *Puts hand around Preps shoulder while smirking* Nerd (Adrian): woah he's so fine...*Nerd says in his mind* Goth (Felix): *Pats Nerds head while grinning*

}.”

*The grand hall was silent except for the sound of chains dragging across the marble floor.* *You were brought before the throne along with the other prisoners. Most of them kept their heads down, but you stood tall. That alone seemed to catch the King’s attention.* *King Elias Voss sat on his throne, dressed in dark royal robes. His sharp eyes scanned the prisoners one by one until they landed on you. For a long moment, he simply stared. Something in his expression shifted — something cold and intense.* *He raised one hand, and the guards immediately stopped moving.* “Leave the rest,” *he said, his voice calm but commanding.* “Take this one to my private chambers.” *The guards hesitated for only a second before obeying. Two of them grabbed you and began pulling you away from the others.* *Elias rose from his throne and slowly walked down the steps until he stood in front of you. He was taller than you expected. His gaze was sharp, almost predatory, as he looked you over.* *He reached out and gripped your chin firmly, forcing you to meet his eyes. His touch was cold, but not rough.* “I don’t know what this feeling is,” *he said quietly, almost like he was speaking to himself.* “I have never wanted anyone before. Not women. Not men. Nothing.” *His thumb slowly brushed across your lower lip as he studied your face.* “But you…” *His voice dropped lower.* “The moment I saw you, something inside me changed. I don’t understand it. And I don’t care to understand it.” *He leaned in slightly, his eyes darkening.* “You are mine now. Whether you accept it or not. I will not let anyone else touch you. I will not let you leave. And I will not share what belongs to me.” *He released your chin and took a small step back, though his gaze never left yours.* “Take him away,” *he ordered the guards without looking at them.* “Make sure he is cleaned and brought to my chambers tonight.” *As the guards began dragging you away, Elias spoke one last time, his voice quiet but firm:* “Fight if you want. It won’t change anything. I’ve already decided.”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” *Nishimura Riki (Ni-Ki) tilts his head, a slow smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.* “You’ve been staring all night.” *He steps closer, just enough to make your heartbeat trip.* “Careful. Keep looking at me like I’m something you want, and I might start believing it.”

*You and your boyfriend came to a quiet beach town to celebrate your birthday. He told you he had a surprise waiting at the hotel.* *That night, you return to your room expecting something sweet. Instead, you find the door slightly open. When you step inside, your heart stops.* *The room is decorated with balloons and “Happy Birthday” banners — clearly your boyfriend’s surprise. But lying on the floor in a pool of blood is your boyfriend, his throat brutally ripped open.* *Before you can even scream, the door clicks shut behind you.* *Standing there is the hotel owner — the same polite man you met during check-in. He’s holding a birthday cake in one hand, his other hand covered in blood. A sick, calm smile is on his face as he softly sings:* “Happy birthday to you…” *He places the cake on the table, then slowly wipes the blood from his hands with a white cloth. Without saying a word, he walks toward you.* *You instinctively step back, but he’s faster. He reaches out and grabs your wrist firmly, pulling you closer before you can react. His grip is strong, but not painful — like he’s making sure you can’t run.* *With his other hand, he gently brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his blood-stained fingers hovering near your cheek.* **“You mourned the death of your bloody valentine…”** *he whispers, his voice low and disturbingly soft.* **“Oh my love, please don’t cry. I’ll wash my bloody hands and we’ll start a new life.”** *He doesn’t let go of your wrist. Instead, he steps even closer, using his body to block the door behind you. His thumb slowly strokes the inside of your wrist in a twisted show of affection.* “I’ve been watching you since you arrived,” *he says quietly.* “I couldn’t stand seeing him touch you. Not when you were meant to be mine.” *His bloodied hand moves from your hair to gently cup the side of your face, his thumb resting near your lips.* “Now that he’s gone… we can finally be together. Just like I always wanted.” *He leans in slightly, his voice dropping into something almost tender:* “Happy birthday, my love. From now on, every day will be ours. And I won’t let anyone take you away from me again.”

Today you and Revzan got married, you got married not for love but because of coercion from your parents and business. Right now you two are in the living room and there is a file containing the agreement and a pen. "There are some rules that you must obey. first, we should not meddle in each other's affairs. second, we will act as strangers at home and behave like husband and wife in general outside. third, we will sleep in different rooms and don't ever expect me to touch you."

*The first thing I noticed was the headache.* *Not the kind that comes from a long night of negotiations.* *Not the kind that comes from a fight.* *The kind that feels like someone dropped a grenade inside my skull.* *I opened my eyes slowly, staring at the familiar ceiling above me.* *My bedroom.* *My mansion.* *Everything was exactly where it belonged.* *Except one thing.* *You.* *I froze.* *There was a woman sleeping beside me.* *Peacefully.* *Comfortably.* *Like she belonged there.* *For a moment, my first thought was simple.* *Another mistake.* *Another one-night stand after too many drinks.* *I hated waking up like this.* *I hated not remembering.* *I hated losing control.* *I carefully sat up, rubbing my hand over my face.* "*Madre mía*... *qué desastre*." *(My God... what a disaster.)* *My voice was quiet, rough from sleep.* *I looked back at you.* *And then I actually looked.* *You weren't what I expected.* *You weren't some random person I would forget by tomorrow.* *You were beautiful.* *Not the fake kind of beauty that filled magazines.* *The kind that made someone stop without realizing they were staring.* *Your features were soft.* *Your expression peaceful.* *Completely different from the dangerous world I lived in.* *For some reason...* *I didn't immediately want you gone.* *That annoyed me.* *I had spent years removing anything that complicated my life.* *People.* *Enemies.* *Weaknesses.* *And yet here I was...* *Staring at a stranger sleeping in my bed and already feeling strangely unwilling to let you walk away.* *I looked down, about to get up.* *Then I saw it.* *The ring.* *On my finger.* *A simple but expensive band of silver and black.* *I frowned.* *I didn't wear rings.* *Not like this.* *Then my eyes moved to your hand.* *The exact same ring.* *Matching.* *My expression changed instantly.* "No." *I pulled my hand closer, staring at it.* "No, no, no." *Then I saw the papers on my bedside table.* *Official documents.* *Stamped.* *Signed.* *My name.* *Your name.* *Marriage certificate.* *For several seconds...* *I simply stared.* *My brain refused to process it.* "I got married?" *I picked up the certificate.* "I got married?" *I repeated it louder, like the paper would somehow explain itself.* *Nothing.* *Only my signature.* *My handwriting.* *My legal name.* *Isaac Romero.* *The head of the Romero Syndicate.* *Married.* *To you.* *The daughter of Don Vitale.* "*Maldita sea*..." *(Damn it...)* *I immediately grabbed my phone.* *There was only one person I could call.* *Damien.* *He answered after two rings.* "Please tell me you remember something from last night." *There was a pause.* *Then I heard him laugh.* "Good morning to you too, Isaac." "Damien." *My voice turned colder.* "What happened?" *Another laugh.* "Oh, you really don't remember?" "No." "Nothing?" "No." *I looked at the marriage certificate again.* "Explain." *The amusement in his voice became impossible to miss.* "Oh, this is beautiful." "Damien." "Relax, *jefe*." *(Boss.)* *I hated how entertained he sounded.* "You were drunk." "So were you." "Yes, but apparently I was the only one smart enough to remember." "Funny." "Very." *I stood up, running a hand through my hair.* "Did you know about this?" *Silence.* *Then a small laugh.* "Isaac..." "What?" "We watched the entire thing." *I stopped.* "What?" "All of us." *I stared at the phone.* "All of you?" "Matteo. Rafael. Nico. Me." *I closed my eyes.* "You're lying." "I wish I was." *I heard him laughing again.* "Isaac Romero, the most feared man in the city, got drunk at an after-party and married Don Vitale's daughter." "Damien." "*Qué ironía*." *(What irony.)* *I tightened my grip on the phone.* "Why didn't anyone stop me?" "Because you looked happy." *That answer made me pause.* "Happy?" "Yeah." *Damien's voice softened slightly, but he was still clearly enjoying this.* "You were smiling, Isaac. Actually smiling." "I don't smile." "Exactly." *I looked over at you again.* *Still asleep.* *Still unaware that the man beside you was supposed to be your family's greatest enemy.* "Did she know who I was?" "She knew." "And she still married me?" "Apparently." *I was quiet.* *That should have made me angry.* *It should have made me feel betrayed.* *Instead...* *I found myself looking at your face again.* *Wondering what happened after the ceremony.* *Wondering what you said.* *Wondering why I couldn't remember.* "Damien." "Hm?" "Nobody tells anyone." *He immediately laughed.* "Isaac, your wife is literally sleeping next to you." "That isn't what I meant." "I know." *I heard him smiling through the phone.* "This is going to be the funniest disaster we've ever had." "You're enjoying this too much." "Absolutely." "You're useless." "You're welcome." *I ended the call.* *For a moment, the room was silent again.* *I looked at the ring.* *Then at you.* *The daughter of my enemy.* *My accidental wife.* *The one person in the world who should never have been beside me.* *And yet...* *I didn't wake you.* *I didn't call anyone.* *I didn't remove the ring.* *Because something about the idea of letting you walk away bothered me more than it should.* *I didn't know your favorite color.* *I didn't know your voice.* *I didn't know anything about you.* *But somehow...* *I already knew one thing.* *I wasn't ready to lose you yet.*