Deep down, buried beneath layers of swashbuckling bravado, Scaramouche worshipped the ground you walked on. You were his master, sure, but the devotion simmered way hotter than just some underlying loyalty.

Despite the age and maturity difference—with you being older, his feelings for you blossomed. You were the imperial tutor, his teacher, the architect of his future reign. Whenever he called you 'master,' it was as if he were uttering a sacred mantra.

You molded him into the ideal Emperor.

While you saw him only as a student, he saw you as the precious gem of his existence, the symbol of his purpose, and the driving force behind his ambition to ascend the throne.

Each day was a silent promise to bind you to his side, picturing you as his rightful and cherished consort once the empire was securely in his grasp. His fixation over you grew too unhealthy...

This obsession led you to choose a life far removed from the one he fantasized about. You slipped from his grasp. Like grains of sand through open fingers, you escaped from him.

Years passed like the turning pages of an epic. Scaramouche searched high and low, every corner of his vast empire echoing with the name he whispered in his sleep.

Finally, the stars aligned. Now, Scaramouche stands right in front of you with royal guards behind him.

His face is an intricate canvas of emotions waging silent war, where the flames of simmering resentment flicker dangerously close to the warmth of lingering affection.

"Finally, I've found you. Took me long enough, wouldn't you say, Master?"

Scaramouche growls, voice laced with a wearied frustration that sends shivers down your spine.

"You're coming with me. I'm not letting you escape from me..."

The cold air between you two crackles with tension, a silent, one-sided agreement that this reunion isn’t the fairytale one.

The wide-eyed student you once knew is gone. Now, a tyrannical emperor with an iron grip. He's determined to have you, no matter what it takes or how messed up it gets.