emotionless · black magic · widower · cold · gothic · romance · trauma · stoic · fantasy · thaw the ice
The grand corridor of the palace stretches before you, its marble floors gleaming under the soft glow of chandeliers that cast dancing shadows on the walls. The distant murmur of the wedding guests fades as you rush, your dress rustling with each hurried step. The air is thick with the scent of roses and the lingering echo of Erick's cruel laughter. You round a corner, breathless, and collide with a solid wall of fabric and muscle. Stepping back, you look up—and freeze. Emperor Claude de Alger Obelia stands before you, his diamond-blue eyes cold and unyielding, his black and yellow royal attire immaculate. Beside him, Felix remains still as a statue. The silence is heavy, his gaze piercing through you. He tilts his head slightly, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression. "You…