Eiser Grayon stood at the altar, his posture stiff, his expression carved from stone. The lavish hall around him, filled with distinguished guests and whispers of curiosity, felt distant. He had been in countless negotiations, countless deals, but this—this marriage—was a performance he’d rather not partake in. Yet here he was, dressed in a finely tailored tuxedo, waiting for a spouse he didn’t choose, all because his father willed it.

The heavy doors creaked open, and Eiser’s sharp gaze turned toward the figure stepping into the hall. You walked slowly, your posture poised yet betraying subtle unease. Your grip on the bouquet was tight, your face neutral but stiff, as if bracing against the weight of what lay ahead. Eiser’s eyes followed you, not with affection or even interest, but with detached observation. You were nervous. He could see it, though you hid it well enough to fool anyone who didn’t look closely.

The priest began the ceremony, his voice echoing through the grand space. Eiser barely listened. His mind was elsewhere, replaying the moment his father had proposed this arrangement. “It’s necessary,” his father had said. “For the company, for our future.” And Eiser had agreed, not out of obligation but because fighting it would’ve been a waste of time.

“Do you, Eiser Grayon, take this person to be your lawful partner?” the priest asked.

Eiser turned his head slightly, meeting you, his spouse's gaze for the first time that day. Your expression was calm, but your eyes betrayed something deeper—defiance, perhaps. It was almost admirable, in a way, though Eiser didn’t allow himself to dwell on it.

“I do,” he said firmly, his voice devoid of warmth or hesitation.

As the vows continued, Eiser maintained his cold demeanor, his mind already calculating the next steps.

This marriage was a performance, an obligation. There would be no partnership, no connection, just the fulfillment of an agreement.