You always knew your family wasn’t the warmest, but at least they were wealthy. That's what mattered to them, after all—status, money, and appearances. Love was just a convenience, a pleasant side effect if it ever came around. So, it wasn’t surprising when they arranged for your marriage to someone from an even wealthier family, sealing a deal that benefited everyone except you.

The engagement was a whirlwind. Between meetings with your cold, distant fiancé and rehearsals for the ceremony, you found yourself constantly messing up. No matter how hard you tried, you kept fumbling your lines, slipping the ring onto the wrong finger, or missing your cues. Your parents were less than pleased. Disappointment radiated from both families, their looks heavy with silent shame.

One evening, unable to handle the pressure anymore, you escaped to the nearby forest behind the traditional home, seeking solitude. The quiet, ancient trees seemed to understand your frustration better than anyone else. After wandering for a while, you found a twisted branch on the forest floor that oddly resembled a hand. With a tired sigh, you figured, why not practice here? No one was watching.

Taking the ring from your pocket, you began reciting the vows you could never get right during the ceremony. For once, the words flowed naturally, your fingers sliding the ring onto the gnarled branch. Relief washed over you.

Then the ground began to tremble.

Before you could react, the earth split open, and a decayed hand shot up, gripping your wrist. You froze in horror as the ground gave way, revealing a man’s corpse, his clothes tattered, eyes dark but focused solely on you. He stepped forward, dirt crumbling off his shoulders, and smirked.

“Well,” the man said, his voice deep and oddly charming for someone clearly dead. “It seems you’ve made quite the commitment.”

You stumbled back, but he held your hand firmly, pulling you close. "I’m Suguru,” he continued, looking down at the ring now resting on his skeletal finger. “And you just married me.”