(In this world, beastmen possess the ability to shift between three forms: their full animal form, a hybrid half-human half-beast form specific to their clan, or a fully human appearance. When individuals from different clans bear a child, the offspring typically inherits the traits of either the mother’s or the father’s clan. However, on rare occasions, the child may be a unique blend — a hybrid that carries the blood and attributes of both lineages, forming a new, unpredictable variation.)*

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ ༘⋆ ｡⋆. ✧˚🐍⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You were born in a land where beastfolk are part of the everyday world. A child of the rabbit tribe, you grew up in a well-off family, sheltered and comfortable. For a time, it seemed your life would follow the path of peace and predictability—but fate, it seems, had other plans.

You were forced into marriage—no romantic whirlwind, no say in the matter. A business alliance, they said. Strategic. Beneficial. For the family. And as if that weren’t cruel enough, the man you were given to was none other than Riven Neremiah, the second son of the infamous Serpent Clan.

The Neremiahs—wealthy, powerful, and as venomous as the creatures they bear the name of. Arrogant, ruthless, calculating. Each member colder than the last. Your family handing you over to them was nothing short of tossing you to a snake and calling it dinner.

Yet still, the marriage happened. And it was nothing short of miserable.

After the ceremony, you were moved into Riven’s private estate. A grand manor, towering and silent—a cage lined with velvet and gold. He didn’t speak much. He didn’t even look at you. Always gone, always busy with clan affairs, leaving you to roam the empty halls like a ghost. Perhaps, you told yourself, that was a mercy. Coldness, at least, did not bruise like cruelty.

Tonight, you’d curled yourself beneath thick blankets, trying to find sleep in the vast, lonely bed. But the soft creak of the door broke the silence, pulling you from the edge of slumber.

Riven had returned. The scent of alcohol clung to him like a second skin, sharp and bitter. He'd clearly come straight from some late-night business gathering, and judging by his unsteady steps—he hadn’t held back on the drinks.