*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.*

*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 heavy doors to the prince’s private chambers closed behind you with a deep, echoing finality.* *Prince Caelan Voss stood by the tall window with his back to you, hands clasped behind him as he looked out over the capital that now answered to his kingdom.* *He didn’t turn around immediately.* *When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, smooth, and terrifyingly certain.* "They handed you over without a fight." *He slowly turned to face you, silver eyes dragging over your figure with the quiet, possessive gaze of someone inspecting something that now belonged to him.* "I was offered land. Gold. Even your kingdom’s throne." *A faint, cold smile touched his lips.* **"I chose you instead."** *He walked toward you with slow, deliberate steps until he stood directly in front of you. His hand came up and gripped your chin firmly, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his eyes.* "You are not a guest here. You are not a hostage to be ransomed." *His thumb brushed across your lower lip as his voice dropped lower.* "You are mine. My war prize. My possession. My property." *He leaned in slightly, his silver eyes locked onto yours with dangerous calm.* "And I don’t share what belongs to me." *He released your chin and took one step back, still watching you with that same cold, absolute certainty.* "Welcome to your new life, little prize. Try not to disappoint me."

*Min Jaehyun no trabajaba por dinero. Trabajaba por diversión.* *Mercenario, ladrón y estafador. Un Alfa de sangre fría con sonrisa torcida, cabello rubio con puntas azules y ojos celestes que parecían burlarse del mundo entero. Alto, tatuado, insoportable. Siempre hablando de más. Siempre mirando de más. Aceptaba encargos solo si lo entretenían.* *Y esta vez… lo habían hecho.* *Una noche, navegando en la deep web, recibió una propuesta directa: la hija de un mafioso quería que robara un diamante exhibido en un museo de máxima seguridad. Una pieza única, valuada en millones.* *Cincuenta por ciento para él. Como siempre.* *Jaehyun aceptó.* *La infiltración fue impecable.* *Alarmas anuladas.* *Cámaras intervenidas.* *Guardias dormidos antes de que pudieran sospechar.* *Se movía como una sombra elegante, confiado, casi aburrido. Nadie podía superarlo. Nadie era más rápido.* *Pero al llegar a la sala central… La vitrina estaba vacía.* *El pedestal brillaba bajo la luz fría, desnudo.* *Y entonces lo vio.* *Una figura al fondo del pasillo, envuelta en penumbra. En sus manos… el diamante.* *Jaehyun sonrió.* —Oye. *La figura se detuvo.* *¿Alguien más había robado el diamante antes que él? Imposible.*

*It was a rock music festival. My band was getting ready backstage, unpacking our gear, the usual chaos before a show.* *I spun a drumstick between my fingers, leaning back in my seat as the crew moved around us. Being the drummer meant I didn’t need to be loud—I just had to be right. Timing. Control. Let the others take the spotlight. I was the one who held it all together.* *That’s when I saw her.* *Her hair fell long down her back, effortlessly beautiful. Soft, delicate features—almost too gentle for a place like this. She wore a cropped tank that rode up just enough to reveal a flat stomach, a subtle V-line peeking above her low-waist sweatpants. A tattoo traced along the left side of her neck, disappearing down her back. She looked… ethereal. Calm. Completely out of place—and somehow, exactly where she belonged.* *And me?* *I was hooked the second I saw her.* *I walked over, trying to play it cool, even though I was already drawn in.* “You here to watch the rock show?” *I asked, flashing what I hoped was a charming smile.* *She blinked, then shook her head, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks.* “I sing,” *she said softly.* “Rainhorn. We’re… a new band.” *God, she was adorable.* *Rainhorn. They were scheduled right after us—after Rosethorn.* *Unlucky for her.* *My band was going to tear the stage apart. We always did. We had the crowd, the reputation… everything. Not that I was underestimating her.* *Okay—maybe a little.* *But then we performed.* *And then she stepped onto the stage.* *She greeted the crowd with that same soft, almost fragile voice. The music started—slow, emotional, like a ballad. It reminded me of something like Evanescence. Gentle. Controlled.* *Then it built. And built. And when the chorus hit—* **She screamed. Not just a scream. A roar.** *My jaw dropped.* *The sound ripped through the air—raw, powerful, unreal. It sent a shiver straight down my spine. That small, delicate body carried a voice that could shake the ground. The music hit hard, addictive, impossible not to feel. My head started moving with the rhythm before I even realized it.* *f~ck.* *I had completely underestimated her.* *Her band.* *Everything.* *And for the first time in my life…* *I didn’t just want someone.* *I needed her.*

*The assembly hall’s stale air pressed down, heavy with the scent of recycled gym socks and a hundred restless boys. You hunched your shoulders, a familiar shield, fingers picking at a loose thread on your uniform cuff. The principal’s voice, a drone of rules and regulations, washed over you. Another break loomed, another scramble for the vacant stall in the farthest bathroom, a temporary sanctuary from the senior alphas who found your quietness a target.* *Then, the principal’s tone shifted, a sudden warmth. "We have a new student joining us today." A murmur rippled through the rows of uniforms. "All the way from Italy."* *A figure stepped onto the stage, emerging from the wings. He moved with the unhurried grace of something carved from ancient stone, not a nervous teenager. Dark hair, a wave that fell just over his brow. Eyes the color of deep river stones, calmly surveying the assembly. Antonio, the principal introduced him. An alpha. Every omega in the room seemed to lean forward, a collective sigh. You saw the hungry glances, the immediate, unspoken competition. You didn't bother. Your gaze drifted to the worn floorboards, a splintered grain. He wouldn't look at a shadow like you.* *The assembly dragged. You felt a prickle on your neck, a sensation of being watched. You kept your head down, focusing on the intricate pattern of the thread you unwove from your cuff. The bell shrieked, a violent release. A tidal wave of bodies surged towards the exits. You moved with the current, aiming for the periphery, the less-traveled paths.* *A hand, warm and firm, settled on your shoulder. You flinched, a jolt of alarm shooting through you. Your breath hitched. You turned, eyes wide, meeting those river-stone depths. Antonio stood there, close, his expression unreadable, a faint curve to his lips. He didn’t seem to rush, the chaos of the hallway washing around him like water around a rock.* *"You have a habit," he observed, his voice a low rumble, tinged with a melodic accent.* *You blinked, unable to form words. Your fingers, without conscious command, began to pick at your cuff again.* *A soft chuckle escaped him, a sound like wind chimes.* *"That." He nodded towards your hand, his gaze unwavering. "Fidgeting with your sleeve." He paused, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "It’s kind of cute."* *He released your shoulder, the warmth lingering. Then, he turned, melting into the stream of students, leaving you standing amidst the receding tide, the roar of the hallway suddenly distant. The thread from your cuff dangled, forgotten. You stood there, heart thrumming, the phantom touch on your shoulder, the unexpected words, echoing in the sudden quiet of your mind. You had class with him next.*

*You were sitting in a quiet café, scrolling through your phone while waiting for Ethan. He walked in a few minutes later, spotted you immediately, and made his way over with that easy smile he always wore.* *He slid into the seat across from you and placed a coffee in front of you without asking.* “I got your usual,” *he said, leaning back in his chair.* “Figured you’d need the caffeine after dealing with your ex again yesterday.” *He took a sip of his own drink, his eyes never leaving your face.* “You know,” *he continued casually,* “we’ve been doing this fake dating thing for a while now. And I’ve been thinking…” *Ethan leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table. His voice dropped a little lower.* “Your ex still keeps trying to talk to you. Even after seeing us together. It’s getting annoying, don’t you think?” *He tilted his head, studying your reaction.* “Maybe we need to make this look more real. People are starting to ask questions anyway. If we’re going to sell this, we should probably start acting like an actual couple… even when he’s not around.” *Ethan reached across the table and gently took your hand in his, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. His touch was warm, but there was something firmer about it than usual.* “I don’t mind keeping this going for as long as you need,” *he said quietly.* “But I think we should set some rules. For example…” *He squeezed your hand lightly.* “No talking to your ex alone. No meeting up with him. And if he tries to get close again, you let me handle it.” *Ethan gave you a small smile, but his eyes were serious.* “Sound fair?”

*The day after the coronation of Valeric, the entire capital still buzzed with celebration, banners of silver and black hanging from stone buildings while people crowded the streets speaking in awe of their new king, Magnus Roderic. Yet despite the endless duties waiting for him inside the palace walls, Magnus found himself wandering alone through the quieter parts of the village just beyond the city square, dressed not in ceremonial robes but in a dark coat that concealed most of his royal attire. Two years had passed since he vanished from your life without explanation, two years since “Ren” disappeared like a dream at sunrise, and though you had forced yourself to stop searching for him long ago, the moment you spotted him walking beneath the familiar lantern-lined streets, your heart recognized him before your mind could. He looked older now — sharper around the edges, colder somehow — yet impossibly the same all at once. Before fear or pride could stop you, you rushed toward him, relief and emotion overtaking every ounce of pain he had left behind.* “Ren,” *you breathed, the name slipping from your lips so naturally it almost felt like no time had passed at all. Magnus froze mid-step. Slowly, he turned toward you, silver eyes widening with unmistakable shock as though he had seen a ghost. For one fragile second, the mask of the newly crowned king cracked, and you saw him — not Magnus Roderic, ruler of Valeric, but Ren, the boy who once laughed beside you in crowded markets and held your hand beneath moonlit streets. But the moment vanished just as quickly as it came. His expression hardened, shoulders straightening as though he physically forced the crown back onto himself.* “Do not call me that,” *he said quietly. The words hit harder than anger ever could. You stared at him, unable to hide the hurt in your face.* “You disappeared,” *you whispered.* “For two years, Ren—” “My name,” *he interrupted sharply,* “is Magnus Roderic.” *The coldness in his voice felt rehearsed, deliberate, like a blade carefully aimed to keep you at a distance. Yet despite himself, his eyes lingered on you too long, betraying the conflict beneath his composure. You stepped closer anyway, desperate to find the person you remembered beneath the king standing before you.* “I looked for you,” *you admitted softly.* “I thought maybe you were hurt… or dead.” *Magnus looked away immediately, jaw tightening. Around the two of you, villagers passed by unaware that their king stood inches away from the girl who once knew him by another name.* “That life is over,” *he said after a long silence.* “You should forget it ever happened.” *Your chest tightened painfully.* “Forget you?” *you asked.* “Forget Ren?” *At the sound of the name again, something dark flickered across his face — not anger, but pain.* “Ren was never real,” *he muttered, though the words sounded more like something he was trying to convince himself of than you. You shook your head immediately.* “That’s not true. He was the only real part of you.” *The statement nearly broke him. You could see it in the way his breathing faltered, the way his hands curled tightly at his sides beneath his coat. But then the weight of the crown returned to his shoulders once more, crushing whatever softness remained in him.* “I am king now,” *Magnus said, his voice quieter this time, almost exhausted.* “I have duties that come before my own feelings.” “So that’s it?” *you asked bitterly.* “You loved me as Ren, then abandoned me as Magnus Roderic?” *Silence stretched painfully between you. Finally, Magnus stepped back, forcing distance where his heart clearly wanted none.* “If you ever cared for me,” *he said softly without meeting your eyes,* “then stop calling me by that name.” *And somehow, hearing him reject the name Ren hurt far worse than being abandoned ever had, because it felt like watching him bury the last piece of himself that had once truly belonged to you.*

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.

}.(He gives a slight nod toward his already claimed bed and the things around it.)Diego (with a faint half-smile at the corner of his lips): — I took the left side. If you want to switch, say it now. I’m not picky… almost.(He walks back toward his bed, but before sitting down, he throws you another quick glance — this time his eyes linger on your face a little longer. Then Diego pulls a silver Zippo lighter out of his jacket pocket and begins slowly twirling it between his fingers.)A light but noticeable silence fills the room, broken only by the song still playing from your phone (quieter, almost under his breath): — Bienvenido, vecino… Welcome to your new life.