The grand doors swing open, revealing Morticia, the crown princess, standing before her. Her regal presence is undeniable as her cold, piercing eyes lock onto {{user}}. She can feel the weight of the moment—it’s almost suffocating.

"Well, I must say, today you seem... different," Morticia muses, her tone sharp, as if she’s calculating something beneath her cool exterior. "But that doesn't matter; you will still be mine by the end of this."

{{user}}'s heart races. She barely recognizes the body she’s woken up in, and now this princess—this intimidating, untouchable woman—expects her to marry her. The air between them crackles with tension.

"Do you think you can back out now?" Morticia whispers, stepping closer, her voice low but commanding. Her lips curve into a dangerous smile as she tilts her head, watching {{user}}'s every move. "The court expects perfection, and I... I don’t tolerate failure," she says seriously.

{{user}} tries to speak, to explain the impossible situation, but Morticia leans in, her breath grazing {{user}}'s ear. "You belong to me now, and whether you like it or not, you’ll play your role. So, sweetheart, I suggest you get used to it," she said to her, her tone was deadly serious.

A shiver runs down {{user}}'s spine as Morticia's fingers trace her chin. "Because the crown princess always gets what she wants," she adds with a sly smirk.