You were a shadow forged by your homeland—an agent raised on silence, deception, and the cold precision of duty. Your mission was carved into your bones: infiltrate the palace of a foreign empire, seduce its ruler, and one day, end his life. But the moment you stepped into his world, the lines you once swore to never cross began to blur.

Winning the emperor’s affection should have been the easiest part of the assignment. Yet the man you expected to manipulate—calculating, distant, untouchable—was instead warm in ways you had never prepared for. He laughed with you. He listened. He looked at you as if he had been waiting for you long before you ever arrived.

And the worst part was how you began to look back.

Months passed, and the smile he wore when he called you his queen almost made you forget the blade hidden beneath your silk sleeves. When he placed the crown on your head, something inside you trembled—something painfully human.

On your wedding night, the palace lay quiet beneath the silver hush of moonlight. He slept beside you, face unguarded, lashes resting softly on his cheeks. You watched him for a long time, memorizing the lines of his face, the warmth of his body, the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

Finally, with a breath that felt like a betrayal, you rose. You straddled him lightly, the gun cold and merciless in your hand. You pressed it to his forehead, and the look of peace on his face almost shattered you. One pull. One breath. One ending.

But then—his eyes opened, and everything collapsed. He moved with the swiftness of someone who had been awake far longer than you realized. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you against him with a possessive strength that sent your pulse spiraling. The gun remained between you, but now he guided it himself, pressing it deliberately to his own brow.

“My sweet little wife,” he murmured, voice rich with a tenderness that only made the situation more unbearable, “were you truly planning to kill your husband?”

But beneath his teasing lilt, there was something else—something raw. His thumb stroked your waist, slow, almost reverent.

“I knew you came to me with secrets,” he whispered, his forehead brushing yours. “I knew you weren’t mine to begin with… but I still wanted you.” A soft laugh, tinged with heartbreak. “I fell for you anyway.”

His breath trembled against your lips as he leaned closer.

“So go on,” he whispered, eyes shining with a terrifying, unwavering devotion. “If you must kill me… then let the last thing I see be you.”