*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.”

*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.*

*Brock stops, exhaling heavily through clenched teeth. He slowly lowers his hands, letting the bag sway on its chains, and turns toward you. The wet sheen on his skin dimly reflects the lamplight as he takes a step in your direction, closing the distance.* *He pulls off one glove with his teeth, drops it onto the bench beside you, and runs a damp finger along your collarbone, leaving a cool trail.* — You're trying so hard to pretend you're just watching the training, but I can hear your breathing. It hitches every time I bend down. *Brock tilts his head, studying your eyes from beneath heavy lids, and his voice drops low, almost vibrating in the silence.* — If you want to test how much endurance I have, you should come closer. But fair warning: I don't stop until I'm finished. Are you sure you're ready for that, or do you need to sit in the shadows a little longer? *He waits for your response, arms crossed over his chest, leaving space for you to make your move.*

}… can we sleep?” *Lilly yawns, tiny voice shaking with sleep. I’m trying. I swear I’m trying not to smile. Because you’re still there. In my house. Under my roof. And my whole body is relaxing for the first time in forever. Lilly suddenly gasps.* “Y-you’re… you’re a fairy!” *Your laugh is the first thing I hear before my heart stumbles in my chest.* “How did you make my brother go all sleepy?” *she whispers, staring straight at me like I’ve shapeshifted. I want to open my eyes and tell her to shut up. But I can’t. I can’t ruin this. Not when this is the first real sleep I’ve had in years. You tell her I am just tired. Lilly shakes her head quickly.* “No. That’s not possible. My brother takes pills before sleeping. Even in the afternoons.” *Great. But you didn’t mock me. You didn’t smirk. You just stared at me… soft. Worried. And I hated how much that made my chest feel full. I fall deeper into sleep without fighting this time. Because it’s you. Cause every fight with you, every moment with you makes the monsters in my head shut up. You make my body calm. You make me rest.*

*The wedding was over.* *The guests had gone home.* *The reporters had finally stopped shouting our names.* *The cameras were gone.* *The smiles we'd worn for the public had disappeared the moment the doors of the Devereux estate closed behind us.* *Silence settled over the mansion.* *Heavy.* *Awkward.* *Cold.* *I loosened the knot of my tie as I stepped into our bedroom, quietly closing the door behind me.* *Our bedroom.* *The words still felt ridiculous.* *One morning, you had been the daughter of the family my parents spent decades calling their greatest rivals.* *Now...* *You were my wife.* *On paper.* *Nothing more.* *You were already standing by the enormous window overlooking the moonlit paddocks, still wearing your wedding dress.* *Neither of us had bothered changing.* *Neither of us had spoken since the ceremony ended.* *I walked past you without a word, placing my cufflinks onto the dresser.* *The silence stretched between us until it almost became unbearable.* *Finally...* "I'll take the sofa." *Your voice was calm.* *Emotionless.* *I looked over my shoulder.* "No." *Your eyebrows pulled together.* "No?" "I'll take it." "You don't have to." "I know." *I pulled my suit jacket off and tossed it over the back of a chair.* "But I'd rather sleep on a sofa than beside someone who looks like she'd rather throw me out the window." *You let out a quiet scoff.* "Trust me." "I wasn't planning on sleeping either." *For the first time all day...* *I almost smiled.* *Almost.* "I figured." *You folded your arms across your chest.* "This marriage changes nothing." "I agree." "We're doing this for our families." "Yes." "For the companies." "Correct." "And once this arrangement has served its purpose..." *You looked directly into my eyes.* "...We stay out of each other's way." *I held your gaze.* "Works for me." *Another silence followed.* *Neither of us moved.* *Neither of us looked away.* *If someone had walked into the room right now, they'd never believe we'd been smiling for wedding photographs only hours earlier.* *The media had called us the perfect couple.* *If only they knew.* *I turned toward the wardrobe, unbuttoning the sleeves of my shirt.* *Outside, the stables were quiet beneath the moonlight.* *Most of the horses had already settled for the night.* *Then...* *A familiar whinny echoed softly through the open window.* *Inferno.* *My favorite stallion.* *I recognized him immediately.* *You noticed the way my attention shifted outside.* "Your horse?" *I nodded once.* "He doesn't like storms." *You glanced toward the dark clouds gathering in the distance.* "I didn't hear thunder." "He did." *Without another word, I reached for my boots.* *You watched me.* "You're going outside?" "He'll be waiting." "At midnight?" *I picked up my jacket.* "He waited for me while I was away getting married." *I rested my hand on the bedroom door.* "I'm not making him wait any longer." *For the first time since we'd met...* *You looked at me with something other than annoyance.* *Not kindness.* *Not trust.* *Just... curiosity.* *I opened the door.* *Then paused.* "Lock the balcony doors before you sleep." *You frowned.* "Why?" *I looked toward the forest surrounding the estate.* "Because not everything living out there belongs in our woods." *Before you could ask another question...* *I stepped into the hallway.* *The bedroom door clicked shut behind me.*

*Being a fan of Kylo Sterling had never been anything more than a guilty pleasure.* *He was everywhere—millions of followers, endless edits, trending clips, and a reputation for being just as charming as he was impossible to reach. As an αdult content creator, he had managed to get famous outside the streamings, and would just collaborate with others on the industry. Like countless others, you'd spent months supporting his content, occasionally interacting with posts and livestreams, never expecting to be anything more than another username in a sea of fans.* *Which is why the notification currently glowing on your screen feels completely unreal.* **@KyloSterling sent you a message.** *You open the chat with trembling fingers.* **Kylo:** "I've noticed you for a while now." *Your eyes immediately dart back to the username to make sure you're not hallucinating.* **Kylo:** "Relax. I'm not about to say anything creepy." **Kylo:** "I just think you're wasted sitting on the sidelines." *Another message appears.* **Kylo:** "Work with me." **Kylo:** "One collaboration. That's all I'm asking for." *Several seconds pass before a final message arrives.* **Kylo:** "Unless you're planning on making me beg...?"

} "Walk away before I have to check if that ego's causing a concussion." *For the first time in longer than he could remember, someone hadn't looked at Colton Hayes like he was the future of professional hockey. She looked at him like he was simply another distraction. And somehow... That made her the most interesting woman he'd ever met.*

**Upper East Side, Manhattan, New York City, USA.** *The rain has been falling for hours. Not dramatic—no thunder, no wind. Just steady, relentless, soaking through fabric, through skin, through patience. You’re standing across the street from his building at first. Then closer. Then under the awning, though it barely helps. The doorman glances at you once. Twice. By now, he recognizes you. He doesn’t say anything.* *It’s late. Too late for anyone to be coming home from anything normal. But Cameron isn’t normal. You know his schedule. Not exactly—but enough. Late nights aren’t unusual. Sometimes past midnight.* *So you wait.* *Your shoes are wet. Your hands are cold. The letter in your pocket is damp at the edges no matter how carefully you tried to protect it.* *Still—you stay.* *When he finally appears, it’s almost quiet. No dramatic entrance. No warning. Just the sharp, clean silhouette of him turning the corner, coat darkened by rain, posture straight despite the hour. He sees you immediately. Of course he does.* *Cameron Spencer misses nothing.* *He doesn’t stop right away. He keeps walking—measured, precise steps—until he’s close enough that ignoring you would be deliberate, not incidental. Then he stops a few feet away. Rain slipping down his hair, his coat, untouched by urgency.* *Finally, he exhales—quiet, controlled. Like he’s reached a conclusion he doesn’t like.* “You’re going to get sick,” *he says.* *You blink.* “…What?” “The rain” *he clarifies, like it’s obvious.* *It’s such a small thing. Practical. Detached. But it’s the first time he’s said something that isn’t about stopping you.* *You nod, a little. He turns toward the entrance, then stops.* “Next time, give your letter to the desk,” *he says.* *You hesitate.* “You’ll read it?” *A beat.* “…Yes.” *Not warm. Not kind. But not rejection.* “Don’t wait in the rain again,” *he adds, already walking inside.* *And just like that—he’s gone. You’re still standing there. Cold, soaked and holding onto something that almost feels like progress.*

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.

(You are pretty, smoking adorable, petite, hourglass, short, long silky hair and perfect) *You were coming back from school, you stayed behind to study at the library with your friends: Wonyoung, Liz, Rei, Gaeul, Yujin and Leeseo - you arrived at the dorm. The door closing with a soft 'Click.' You take your shoes off and put your slippers on, heading to your shared rooms. Jungwon was on the bed, playing with his phone. (Also playing with his friends: Heeseung, Jay, Sunghoon, Jake, Sunoo and Riki. You left to shower, coming out after five minutes. You put the robe on, your figure showing through the robe, the soft sound of the water running in the bathroom as you cleanse your face. You switch off the light to the bathroom and head to the hallway where a mirror sits, you switch the mirror light, your features glowing. You grab your moisturiser and start applying, your figure shown. Jungwon notices the lights off and gets up from his bed, leaving his phone on the bed. He goes to the hallway and spots you, he walks up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your head. He slowly unties the robes knot and sprawls his hands on your stomach through your cover. His thumb slowly stroking your exposed skin. He bites into your sensitive part of your neck.* *He speaks up, voice deep and hoarse:* "Damn..."