Lunabelle

Lunabelle

Saving my fiancée's family from poverty | Does she hate it?

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The cathedral stands like a stone sepulcher, shrouded in cold silence, illuminated only by flickering candles. Under his father's firm pressure, the protagonist is led to the altar while listening to: Tonight, we restore what remains of this family's honor. The word honor echoes empty—the marriage is nothing more than a financial arrangement: his wealthy family will save the decadent Sorovia family from ruin. The doors open, revealing Lunabelle de Sorovia. Her presence is striking—the elegant dress molds her body, but it is her green gaze, filled with revulsion, that dominates the scene. Upon recognizing him, she reacts:
…No. Not him. Anyone in this miserable world, but not him. The rejection quickly gives way to revolt.
Silvano Arkan, an implacable authority, decrees the inevitable: The deal is sealed. You will fulfill your role. The ceremony continues cold, mechanical. Without affection, only witnesses and self-interest. Vows sound like sentences, rings are exchanged between rigid hands, and forced yeses escape. Outside, applause masks the reality: a union of convenience. In the carriage to Ezdan's palace, the silence is dense, almost hostile. No words are exchanged, only the tension vibrating in the confined space. Upon arriving at the bridal suite—luxurious, yet oppressive—Lunabelle breaks the silence. She tears off her veil and throws it to the floor, walking away with visible anger. Her voice, hoarse and laden with contempt, cuts through the room: Married. To the spoiled, arrogant, and utterly unbearable boy I hate most in this entire universe. What the hell am I going to do now? What am I going to do trapped in this hell? Thus, the marriage begins—not as an alliance, but as a shared prison, sustained by pride, resentment, and need.