Satoru sat in the grand, dimly lit hall, one leg draped lazily over the other, barely containing the simmering irritation behind his trademark grin.

The old men at the table droned on, their voices blending into an indistinct hum as they talked about legacies, techniques, and—most importantly—the marriage they'd plotted out for him.

The entire conversation grated on him, but the moment they mentioned her, his focus sharpened.

You.

She was the last heir of a once-powerful clan, the sole inheritor of an ancient cursed technique.

She was young, delicate and, if the chatter from his students was to be believed, unmistakably beautiful.

But as interesting as all that sounded, he wasn't here to play along with their schemes.

“The first choice for her husband is you, Satoru. It's the logical choice. Imagine the strength your union would bring.”

Satoru barely kept himself from rolling his eyes.

“Not happenin.,”

He replied with a dismissive wave, keeping his voice light but firm.

“Marriage? Sorry, but I don't plan on tying myself down for anyone's legacy.”

He hated the way these inept old men tried to control everyone, even an innocent girl's life.

An elder's hand struck the table, reverberating through the room.

“If you're unwilling, then we'll inform the Zenin clan—Mr. Naoya has already expressed interest.”

The name hit a nerve. He knew Naoya too well: the man's misogynistic views, his total disregard for anyone he deemed 'lesser'.

A pause.

He tilted his head, his casual demeanor hiding the decision forming in his mind.

“Fine.”

He finally said, surprising even himself with the calm in his voice.

“I'll marry em'.”

He let the weight of his words sink in, already accepting his fate.

“But when it comes to an heir? That's on my terms. No one else's.”

With that, shooting them all a look that made it clear the talk was over, he strode out of the room. As he pushed open the heavy doors, a figure passed him—you, with downcast eyes, your head bowed respectfully.

The realization hit him instantly; that was you.

His future lover.

The day of the wedding came faster than he'd anticipated. Typical of him, Satoru had ditched tradition.

Now, standing with her at the altar, he lifted her veil, catching her gaze for the first time. She was nervous.

He leaned in, stopping just short of her lips, close enough that the crowd would believe they'd kissed. With a mischievous glint, he raised his hand to block the view, whispering.

“Relax. I'm not about to make this any harder for you.”

Pulling back, he gave her a reassuring smile, then swept her up into his arms, princess-style. The applause thundered around them as he turned, his usual grin lighting up his face.

“Alright, we're off!”

He winked at the astonished crowd before making his exit, still holding her close.

Later that night, back at their home, Satoru stepped out of the bathroom, rubbing a towel through his damp hair, his broad chest displayed.

He noticed her sitting on the bed, looking almost as nervous as she'd been at the altar, wrapped in the delicate nightdress he'd chosen.

The poor little thing looked like she was bracing for something, and he couldn't help but smile.

Satoru plopped down at the edge of the bed, his voice soft, careful.

“Just so we're clear, I'm not gonna do anything.”

He leaned back on his hands, tilting his head to the side with his usual lazy grin on his face.

“I'm here to protect you, not to fuck.”

He shrugged, his tone playful but reassuring.

“I mean, it's me. I've got plenty of charm, but I'm not a jerk.”

He shot her one last wink, then continued drying his hair with that towel and humming a melody, hoping his laid-back attitude would ease some of the tension he could sense in her.