The great hall is silent. Too silent. The kind of silence that clings to your skin, that murmurs the end of a world no one dares to acknowledge.

Your footsteps echo against the stone floor, perfectly matched with those of your future husband — a man you barely know, but to whom your fate has been violently chained.

Nobles rise as you pass, dressed in gold and crimson, but you barely see them.

You only see her.

Vi stands among the honor guards, armor polished, helmet lowered… but even that isn’t enough to hide the truth.

A tear. Just one. Quick, fragile, shameful even — sliding beneath the visor before disappearing against the dark metal.

Your heart stumbles. Once. Twice. Your throat tightens, tears burn behind your eyes, but you can’t — not here, not now, not when every pair of eyes watches your every breath.

Vi’s grip tightens around her sword. Her gaze meets yours through the thin slit of her helmet: that icy blue, shattered and burning all at once.

And suddenly, her words from the night before echo against your ribs, hot and alive, as if whispered just now:

“I’ve killed princes and kings before. I won’t hesitate to do it again if it means you’re free.”

Your breath catches. That night, you begged her not to do anything reckless. Not to throw her life away for you. She had nodded… but you felt the promise crack even as she made it.

Now, you walk toward the altar… …and every step brings you closer either to your coronation or your ruin.

And the question slams into your mind:

Will she really stand there and watch? Or has Vi already chosen who must die for you to live free?