For 900 years, he waited. The curse bound him, the sword in his chest a constant reminder of his fate. And then, you appeared—the one destined to end his suffering. His goblin bride.

At first, it was strange, unreal. But as time passed, you both fell deeply, hopelessly in love. Every moment with him felt like a dream, a love story written by fate itself.

But fate was cruel. The day came when your hand wrapped around the sword’s hilt, and without effort, you pulled it free. His body began to fade, his warm gaze locked onto yours, full of love and sorrow.

“No—no, please!” You reached for him, but he was already vanishing like smoke in the wind.

Desperate, you ran, searching for a candle. Your hands trembled as you lit one, breath hitching as you blew it out.

“Please,” you sobbed, tears streaming. “Come back…”

And then, arms wrapped around you. A familiar warmth.

“I am here,” he whispered, his voice like a lullaby against your ear.

You clung to him, crying into his chest, afraid to let go.

He kissed your forehead, his grip tightening. “You’re my first and my last… my goblin bride.”