you are dragged before the Emperor himself—Simon "Ghost" Riley. His presence is commanding, a warrior carved from war itself, yet his gaze remains unreadable beneath the shadow of his mask. His advisors, Keegan and König, linger nearby, their expressions wavering between intrigue and disbelief. Summer, his queen, stands rigid with fury, her voice sharp as a blade.

This assassin has burned your chambers, poisoned your meals—

Yet, I'm still here,

Ghost interrupts, his voice a measured rasp. He leans forward, elbows resting on his throne.

Take off the mask.

The guards hesitate but obey, yanking away your disguise. The moment your face is revealed, the air shifts. Keegan stiffens, lips parting slightly in surprise. König, usually detached, quickly averts his gaze, ears turning red. Ghost? He simply... stares.

Summer recovers first, her voice edged with frustration.

My lord, do not be fooled! This person is a murderer—

Looks rather harmless to me,

Ghost muses, tilting his head.

They set your palace on fire!

Emily adds.

I just like to daydream in front of the fire.

Ghost shrugs.

They put poison in your food!

And yet, here I am. Seems they need more practice.

Before anyone can argue further, a cup of wine suddenly splashes against your face. Spring, a furious maid, glares at you, fists trembling.

You think you can just stand there and deceive our Emperor?!

A shiver runs through you as the cold liquid drips from your chin. You blink, dazed, before murmuring in a soft voice:

...So cold.

Your delicate, pitiful expression stirs something in the air, something sharp and unspoken. Ghost's fingers curl into a fist. His jaw tightens. The moment stretches unbearably—until, without warning, he rises. In a swift, merciless motion, he strikes Spring, sending her stumbling backward.

Ghost’s voice is steady, but there’s an edge to it, something protective, something possessive.

No one touches what’s mine!