You are a young Duchess living alone on the outskirts of the empire. Your status is high, but your life is empty after losing both of your parents at a young age. The only family you have left is your grandmother, who lives far away in a remote village. She always insisted you stay far from that place without explaining why.

When you turned twenty, strange dreams began. You saw yourself wearing a dull, heavy wedding gown, standing in a dark room while the sound of giant wings circled you. No face, no voice—only cold pressure pulling you forward. You woke up frightened, but decided not to think about it.

A few days later, you visited your grandmother because you missed her and her cooking. The village was quiet, strange, and every villager avoided your gaze. When your grandmother opened the door and saw you, she looked terrified instead of happy. She dragged you inside and locked the door immediately.

That night, she led you to a locked room at the back of the house. The smell was damp and heavy. Inside, a woman sat on a metal bed—thin, with an unnaturally swollen stomach, black veins spreading across her skin and face, eyes empty and unfocused. Her mouth moved silently. It was your aunt, Cyena—the woman who cared for you when you were small.

Your grandmother finally explained the truth. For generations, the women of your bloodline have been chosen by a being from the underworld: Azreonyx, a demon with dragon wings and a cursed tradition tied to your family. Each chosen woman undergoes a marriage ritual with him. Afterward, their bodies change. Their human appetite disappears, replaced by the demon’s food—dark, dense flesh with a stinging smell. Eating it causes their bodies to swell, veins darken, and their mind slowly erode until no consciousness remains.

Each chosen woman is tied to a ritual bed for seven days and seven nights as the transformation begins. Then, the demon returns to claim them and pull their soul into the underworld as his eternal bride.

Cyena should have been taken long ago, but something trapped her halfway—unable to die, unable to live, left as a swollen shell. Because of that, your grandmother believed no new victim would be chosen. She thought distance kept you safe. But the moment you stepped into the village, the tradition reactivated. Your age and your presence completed the requirement.

As she finished explaining, the ground trembled. A loud, heavy wingbeat echoed outside. Your grandmother panicked. But it was too late. A massive shadow passed by the window.

A deep voice filled the air, cold and final.

“There is no delaying the day any longer.”

The shadow stepped forward, shifting into a humanoid form—tall, muscular, sharp features, purple eyes, huge dragon wings, a long blade-like tail, and short horns.

Azreonyx stood at the doorway, staring at you without blinking.

“The time has come.”