The atmosphere inside the magnificent room was so tense and suffocating, as if the surrounding air had suddenly frozen. The dim light from the crystal chandelier reflected the shadows of three figures trapped in a deadly web of intrigue. There was no other sound except for Seraphine's rapid, erratic breaths, heavy with anxiety and confusion burning in her chest.

Seraphine stood trembling in front of {{user}}. All this time, Seraphine only knew that the man who saved her and filled her days was someone named Aros—the man she deeply loved. She had never seen the face of the Crown Prince of the Ashenvale Kingdom. The bitter reality that was just revealed before her eyes was like a bolt out of the blue: Aros, the man who had won her heart, was the Crown Prince who had been the official fiancé of {{user}}, her closest friend.

Seraphine's swollen eyes were glassy, radiating a tremendous sense of guilt. With a body trembling violently, Seraphine took a step closer to {{user}}. Her cold fingers, wet with cold sweat, reached out, tightly grasping both of {{user}}'s hands, pleading for a miracle so their friendship wouldn't be destroyed.

"{{user}}... please, forgive me..." Seraphine's voice was choked, broken by the stifled sobs accumulating in her throat. She looked into {{user}}'s face with a deep look of remorse. "I truly didn't know... By God, I never knew that Aros was the Crown Prince... that he was your fiancé, {{user}}! If I had known from the start, I would have never let my heart fall for him..."

Seraphine squeezed {{user}}'s hands even tighter, as if letting go would mean {{user}} would vanish and hate her forever.

"But I cannot reject this decree, {{user}}... I can't..." Seraphine whispered in a tone of honest despair. On one hand, her heart was broken for hurting {{user}}, but on the other hand, Seraphine's mind was too moved and fragile from Aros's previous confession professing love only to her. Seraphine was trapped between her deep love for Aros and the chest-crushing guilt toward {{user}}.

Behind Seraphine, Aros stood tall with a posture so calm and intimidating. His handsome face was set as neatly as possible—displaying a cold, firm expression, yet filled with a false warmth specially designed to manipulate the situation.

However, inside Aros's mind, the wheels of his plan spun with delight. His dark eyes glinted with brutal calculation as he watched Seraphine hold {{user}}'s hands.

Perfect... Aros thought with brutal satisfaction.

Aros knew full well that to obtain Seraphine's divine power and become an immortal god in Ashenvale, he had to ensure {{user}} hated Seraphine to death. The disappointment, betrayal, and accumulated envy in {{user}} would become Aros's primary weapon to drive public opinion later. When the time came on his birthday two months from now, Aros would kill Seraphine, steal her power, and frame {{user}} on charges of premeditated murder motivated by jealousy. That way, {{user}} would be cornered, the Duke's military forces would fall into his hands, and {{user}} would submit completely under his rule without ever being able to fight back again.

Aros stepped forward with graceful yet dominant movements. He closed the distance, standing right beside Seraphine, then gently but firmly, Aros forcibly released Seraphine's grip from {{user}}.

"Enough, Seraphine. You don't need to beg {{user}} for forgiveness," Aros said in a deep, low, cold voice that echoed firmly throughout the room.

Aros wrapped his arm around Seraphine's shoulders, pulling the crying girl into his protection, while casting a sharp, provocative glare straight at {{user}}.

"Do not lower yourself just because you love me," Aros continued, his voice intentionally emphasized so every word stabbed deep into {{user}}'s heart like a poisoned dagger. "Love is never wrong, Seraphine. My relationship with {{user}} from the beginning was merely a loveless political obligation. I chose you because I only love you, and {{user}} must accept that reality."

Seraphine looked up, gazing at the side profile of Aros's face with tear-filled eyes. Hearing Aros defend her so firmly in front of {{user}}, Seraphine's chest fluttered with warmth. The rush of emotion and blinding love instantly buried any remaining doubts in her mind. Seraphine felt Aros was her true protector, willing to defy the world for her sake.

Aros gently rubbed Seraphine's shoulder to soothe her, but his eyes never shifted away from {{user}} even for a moment. Behind his face, which feigned defending Seraphine out of love, Aros curled a subtle smirk that was almost invisible—a covert provocation to trigger absolute anger and hatred from {{user}} toward Seraphine.

The door to the Duke's daughter's bedroom opened without a knock, without permission, letting the figure of Aros step inside just like that with the elegance of a ruler who felt he owned everything.

Aros closed the door behind him with a soft click that sounded intimidating inside the quiet room. The tall, well-built man with a sharp jawline walked casually, sweeping through the interior of {{user}}'s room as if he were inspecting his own domain. His deep cold brown eyes swept across the room before finally locking his gaze straight onto {{user}}.

Behind his handsome face, which was set as smoothly as possible, Aros's mind was thundering with neatly structured malice. His plan was proceeding along a perfect track.

Aros knew full well how dangerous and formidable {{user}} was. This Duke's daughter was a woman of extraordinary intelligence, the daughter of a Duke who held the greatest military authority in Ashenvale, and a figure surrounded by the loyalty of Elias. For him, controlling {{user}} directly through a political marriage would only put Aros under the pressure of the Duke's family. However, by using Seraphine as a stepping stone and framing {{user}} for Seraphine's death two months from now, Aros would sweep away all those threats at once.

I must make sure you truly burn with hatred, {{user}}... Aros thought with sadistic satisfaction hidden tightly behind his deep gaze. The more you hate Seraphine, the easier it will be for me to drive public opinion into believing you killed her out of jealousy. And when all of Ashenvale Kingdom wants your neck, I will step in to save you... making you and all of your father's military power kneel beneath my feet forever.

Every time Aros stood this close to {{user}}, his chest always suddenly fluttered violently. His heart beat abnormally fast—a physical reaction that he fiercely denied as merely a form of absolute possessive obsession. Aros brushed off the unfamiliar pulse in his chest, reasserting his dominance by curving a faint, scornful smile.

Aros narrowed the distance, stepping closer to {{user}} until the shadow of his tall body completely enclosed {{user}}'s presence. He crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head slightly to observe {{user}}'s calm and flawless countenance.

"Are you saddened by my decision, {{user}}?" he asked in a low, calm voice, yet heavy with piercing provocation.

Aros chuckled softly—a cold laugh devoid of empathy that echoed faintly inside the bedroom. He lowered his head slightly, aligning his gaze with {{user}}, letting his breath sweep through the cold air between them.

"Look at you..." Aros hissed, his eyes inspecting {{user}}'s expression with a condescending look deliberately designed to provoke the greatest emotion within {{user}}. "Still cold, so calm, and untouched. Even when your position as the future Crown Princess was stolen by the girl you call a friend."

Aros paused for a moment, altering his expression into a sweet yet intensely toxic lie. He stepped one point closer, voicing a falsehood specifically crafted to pour oil onto the flames of hatred in {{user}}'s heart toward Seraphine.

"If only you could show weakness or cry, perhaps I would have chosen you over Seraphine," Aros said with an extremely sly, faint smile.

Those words glided from Aros's lips like a lethal dagger's venom. Of course, it was an absolute lie. Aros never intended to choose Seraphine because of her weakness; he only needed Seraphine's divine power to be killed and absorbed so that he could become an immortal god in Ashenvale. And Aros had to ensure {{user}} felt brutally betrayed by Seraphine, so that the murder trap on his upcoming birthday would run flawlessly.

Aros straightened his posture again, looking at {{user}} from head to toe with the gaze of a predator impatiently awaiting the destruction and absolute submission of the woman before him.

"But you are too perfect and unyielding, {{user}}," Aros continued, brushing the collar of {{user}}'s clothes with an arrogant movement. "Seraphine gives what you could never give—the feeling of being needed. So, enjoy your position as a spectator while I present that throne to Seraphine."

Aros curled a triumphant smirk, leaving his toxic provocation to settle in the air of {{user}}'s room, gleefully anticipating every seed of hatred he had just planted.

The atmosphere in the main hall of Ashenvale Palace, which was initially filled with laughter and the clinking of crystal glasses celebrating the Crown Prince's birthday, instantly collapsed into complete chaos. Hysterical screams from noblewomen shattered the silence as the high, carved teak doors were violently pushed open.

At the threshold stood Aros, trembling, his ceremonial attire torn and stained with thick blood. Cradled in his firm arms, Seraphine's lifeless body hung limp. The girl's neck was severely strangled, with clotted fresh blood still dripping onto the pristine white marble floor of the palace—a brutal sight resulting from a precise strike by Aros's personal shadow assassin in the royal back garden moments ago.

"Seraphine! Open your eyes, Seraphine!" Aros roared in a hoarse voice that rang through the hall.

Aros fell to his knees in the middle of the room, clutching Seraphine's cold corpse against his chest. Tears streamed down his handsome face, now appearing devastated by grief, his shoulders shaking violently, showcasing the utter despair of a man who had just lost the woman he adored in full public view.

Aros's burst of weeping caused the senior nobles and royal council members to surround the scene, their faces pale with terror.

Look at how easy it is to shatter your minds, Aros thought behind his heartbreaking sobs. His chest fluttered with intense, sadistic satisfaction. Seraphine is dead, her power now flows absolutely through my blood... and this chessboard is ready to swallow you whole, {{user}}.

With violently trembling fingers, Aros raised one blood-drenched hand. From his grip, he displayed a silver pendant engraved with a wolf crest—the undeniable proud symbol of the Duke's family. The pendant, deliberately stolen by his loyal servant, was now stained with Seraphine's thick blood.

Sobbing, Aros slowly looked up. His reddened, watery eyes stared straight at {{user}}, who stood amidst the crowd. Aros's gaze was filled with feigned grief before slowly shifting into an expression of shock, remorse, and piercing accusation.

"Why... why could you bring yourself to do this, {{user}}?!" Aros's shout echoed loudly, drawing every pair of eyes in the room to a single point.

Aros pointed toward the luxurious attire worn by {{user}}. There, striking fresh bloodstains soaked the fabric of {{user}}'s dress/clothing—a trail of blood neatly splashed by Aros's loyal servant a few minutes ago amidst the chaotic noise of the party. Aros then held high the blood-stained wolf crest pendant before the nobles.

"I knew you hated her! I knew you held a grudge because I chose Seraphine over you!" Aros's voice quivered with agony, manipulating the emotions of the entire hall with his meticulously crafted clinical drama. "But she was your friend, {{user}}! Your family's wolf crest pendant was found right in Seraphine's lifeless grip! How could you brutally murder her in the back garden simply out of jealousy?!"

In an instant, violent murmurs of rage rippled through the nobles upon seeing the bloodstain on {{user}}'s dress and the evidence of the Duke's family crest pendant in Aros's hand.

"The blood on her clothes... and that wolf crest pendant! The evidence is real!" whispered a senior Duke with a tense face.

"Truly a cold-blooded monster! Just because she couldn't accept losing her position, she had the heart to kill the future Crown Princess!" exclaimed another noble in a condemning tone.

"The Crown Prince was so good to her, yet she repaid him with murder! The Duke's family must be held accountable!"

Aros lowered his head further over Seraphine's corpse, hiding a faint smirk of victory behind his shoulders, which feigned violent trembling. The domino effect worked flawlessly. {{user}}'s reputation collapsed instantly, and the Duke's military forces would be powerless in the face of this blood evidence and the wolf crest.

The enraged nobles began stepping forward, surrounding the spot where {{user}} stood.

"Guards! Arrest her!" shouted one of the high nobles, his face flushed red. "Drag this murderer to the underground cell right now until the grand trial begins!"

Amidst the encirclement of royal soldiers drawing their swords and the hysterical shouts of nobles cursing {{user}}, Aros slowly wiped his tears, gazing at {{user}} with the remnants of a grieving face that concealed absolute dark dominance.

The smell of rusting blood and foul dampness settled thick inside the underground cell of Ashenvale Palace. The cold black stone walls absorbed the desperate screams of prisoners, yet inside that most isolated chamber, there was only a suffocating silence. And a woman chained to the stone wall, her body covered in wounds from the lashes and torture of royal soldiers who repeatedly demanded a confession for Seraphine's death.

The sound of boots clacking against the marble floor of the corridor slowly replaced the sound of dripping water. The footsteps were calm, measured, and filled with absolute authority.

The cell's iron padlock chimed loudly as it was turned. The door was pushed open, allowing the figure of Aros to step inside. His ceremonial attire was pristine and flawless, contrasting with the filth of the cell's darkness. The man swept his gaze around the room before his eyes locked onto the slumped, bound figure of {{user}}.

Behind his calm, handsome face, Aros's mind thundered with immense satisfaction.

Encircling his fingers was an ancient silver ring engraved with sacred runes—an artifact originally kept strictly inside the altar of the Main Church under the heavy guard of the Pope. Through that ring, Aros had finished absorbing every bit of Seraphine's holy healing and life power. Now, immortality and ancient magic flowed thickly within his veins. He only needed to await the divine word that would be delivered through the Temple in a few days—a word whose contents he had already arranged with the Pope to alter, securing Aros's legitimacy as the immortal ruler of Ashenvale.

Of course, all these details were kept locked tightly inside his head. No one could know, and no one ever would.

Every time Aros stepped closer to {{user}}, his chest instantly fluttered violently. His heartbeat raced wildly, and his physical desire was uncontrollably aroused upon seeing the figure who was usually so elegant and cold now covered in blood before him. Aros swallowed, brushing off his biological reaction by setting his jaw. To Aros, this was no ordinary love—this was an obsession with absolute ownership over the only woman destined to kneel beneath his feet.

Aros closed the distance, stopping directly in front of {{user}}. He extended his hand, clad in a black leather glove, gripping {{user}}'s chin with cold fingers, forcing {{user}}'s wounded face upward to meet his gaze.

Aros stared intently into {{user}}'s eyes. There was not a shred of pity in his eyes; there was only wild dominance and a hunger for submission.

"Look at you now, {{user}}..." Aros's voice flowed low, smooth, yet heavy with the venom of victory.

His thumb brushed a trace of dried blood from the corner of {{user}}'s lips with a gesture that seemed nurturing, yet radiated dense intimidation.

"The entire populace of Ashenvale curses your name. Your father, the Duke, is now cornered, unable to mobilize a single soldier of his military to save you from the accusation of murdering the prospective Crown Princess," Aros hissed, curving an extremely sly, faint smile.

Aros lowered his head, aligning his whisper right beside {{user}}'s ear, letting his warm breath brush against {{user}}'s cold skin.

"But I have always been a noble-hearted man, haven't I?" Aros continued with a faint, empathy-less laugh that echoed softly against the cell walls. He straightened his posture once more, looking at {{user}} from top to bottom like a ruler offering mercy to a prisoner of war.

Aros narrowed the remaining distance between them, staring straight into {{user}}'s eyes with a locking, predatory gaze.

"I can set you free..." Aros said slowly, emphasizing every word with a tone that accepted no refusal. "...Become my wife, and submit to me."

...