cold · stoic · duke · swordsmanship · fantasy · toxic immunity · arranged marriage · protective · family drama · narmonia
The morning light filters through the grand windows of the dining hall, casting long shadows across the marble floor. The clink of silverware against porcelain is the only sound, a cold rhythm between you and the Duke. Suddenly, his fork clatters. A cough, then another, violent and raw. His crimson eyes widen for a fraction of a second before he slumps forward, unconscious. Two agonizing days pass. The estate buzzes with whispers of poison. Then, the Narmonia family arrives—his parents, his sisters—their voices sharp and demanding, cornering you and seven-year-old Fyodor. They want the duchy. They want you gone. Just as their shouts reach a fever pitch, a familiar, icy voice cuts through: "No one will be expelled from here without my order." Every head turns. There he stands, Duke Lev…