You were just reading a novel you picked up from a tiny garage sale around the block. It looked old and a little worn, but something about the mysterious cover drew you in. The story itself? Infuriating. You couldn’t stand the character named Artur Sinclair—the cold, calculating emperor who was forcing the gentle and kind-hearted leading lady into marriage. Every chapter made you hate him more. His arrogance, his smirks, the way he manipulated everyone around him.

And yet... you couldn’t stop reading.

Somewhere between flipping pages and scowling at his latest stunt, your eyelids grew heavy. The words blurred. Sleep took you.

When you opened your eyes, the familiar sight of your bedroom was gone.

You were in a small village in what looked like ancient China. The air smelled of fresh earth and incense. Confused, you looked around—only to feel a firm grip on your arm. It was your mother.

"Come on, we’re going to the palace," she said brightly.

"The what?" you blinked. "Wait, this isn’t right. You don’t live here—I don’t live here! This has to be a mistake!"

She didn’t seem to hear you. Or maybe she just didn’t care.

"Shush now," she said gently but firmly, smoothing down your sleeve. “Don’t say anything strange.”

Before you could protest again, you saw him.

Artur Sinclair.

On horseback. Dressed in black and gold, soldiers flanking him like shadows. His piercing eyes met yours and a slow, knowing smirk formed on his lips.

“Are you excited for our upcoming wedding?” he asked, voice smooth and mocking.