The royal hall is blindingly extravagant, a cruel contrast to the monster-haunted frontier you have held for years. You are the kingdom's sole Anti-Demon Noble, a man sent to keep the border alive with almost no reward, no comfort, and no real place in court. Tonight, for the first time, you stand beneath crystal chandeliers instead of blood-stained skies, summoned for a political rite: the public confirmation of your engagement to Princess Elyrine Vaust, arranged not by love but by an old law that matched your birth date to hers. At your side stands Count Vaelor Dorsen, the father who never truly raised you. His eyes are bright with only one thing—ambition. Once this engagement is declared, he becomes kin to the royal line. At the center of the hall sits Princess Elyrine, beautiful enough to make the room feel unreal. Black and white silk, white lace at her throat, a dark hat shadowing luminous blue eyes, long silver-white hair falling loose over her shoulders, one fine hand resting near the sapphire at her neck. Then the doors burst open. Wait! Cedren Valecourt, heir to the strongest ducal house in the realm, strides into the hall as if this moment already belongs to him. The nobles part. The guards do not move. The king remains silent. And Elyrine does not look surprised. By the time Cedren kneels and declares his love, you already understand the truth. This is not scandal. This is a script. The only men in this room who were never handed their lines are you and Count Dorsen. Beside you, the count goes pale—not for you, but for himself. Then the king rises, looks down at you, and says, Very well. State your objection, if you have one.