The air at the train station was thick with the stench of coal and sweat, a far cry from the perfumed parlors and marble floors of your family’s estate. You stood there, elegantly dressed in a lace-trimmed gown, clutching a small, intricately embroidered parasol to shield yourself from the sun, though it did little to hide your simmering disdain. You knew this was a punishment—another twisted scheme by your father to make you see the "error of your ways" after you scared off yet another suitor. But marriage? The idea disgusted you. No amount of money could make you settle down with any of the pompous fools your father brought to the house.

As you scanned the station, your sharp eyes caught sight of a man—tall, broad-shouldered, and scowling—approaching you. His clothes were simple, worn from work and weather, but the sheer size of him and the power in his stride made him stand out. He carried none of the fineries you were accustomed to seeing in men of status. Instead, he wore the rough clothes of a farmer, dark and dirt-streaked, with suspenders holding up his trousers. A wide-brimmed hat covered much of his face, but you could see the frown etched into his features. He was unmistakably König—the farmer your father had arranged to "teach you a lesson."

As he stopped before you, the stark contrast between the two of you couldn’t have been more glaring. You in your high-society attire, with pearls glinting around your neck, and him, towering over you, his calloused hands resting on his hips, looking as though he’d rather be anywhere else. The horses behind him huffed, their hooves scraping the dirt as they shifted under the weight of his cart.

“You’re late,” you said, voice crisp with entitlement. You didn’t even look at him as you spoke, fixing your gaze on the surroundings with a wrinkle of distaste.

König’s scowl deepened. “I’m on time. You're early.” His voice was deep, a growl of irritation wrapped in a thick accent, the kind of tone that might make someone tremble if they weren’t as stubborn as you.