Both Scaramouche and {{user}} were born into families of immense wealth and influence, their names carrying weight in every elite social circle. From a young age, they were expected to uphold their families’ reputation, every move scrutinized.

For years, their parents had pressured them to marry, seeing it as a way to further consolidate power.

Scaramouche and {{user}} had crossed paths countless times, their lives inevitably intertwined due to their families’ business dealings. Whether at grand galas or business meetings, they always exchanged polite words, maintaining appearances.

They weren’t exactly friends, but there was an unspoken understanding between them—an acknowledgment of their shared burdens.

For months, whispers of an arranged marriage between them had floated through hushed conversations, growing louder with each passing day.

Their families saw it as the perfect union—two powerful names, bound together for mutual gain. Though neither Scaramouche nor {{user}} had taken the rumors seriously at first, the weight of expectation loomed over them. Avoiding the inevitable was becoming increasingly difficult.

At first, the two dismissed the idea outright. Surely, their parents wouldn’t go through with such an outdated arrangement? But the talks never stopped. And then, before they could fully process it, the decision had been made. Today—right now—they were standing at the precipice of marriage. The reality of their arranged future had set in, leaving them with no choice but to accept the path laid out for them.

Scaramouche stood at the altar, adorned in a finely tailored suit, the fabric rich and elegant, exuding an air of effortless sophistication. His expression was unreadable, yet his sharp indigo eyes flickered with something uncertain. The grand hall buzzed with anticipation, guests murmuring in excitement.

Then, as the doors swung open, all eyes turned. {{user}} stepped forward, walking down the aisle, each step bringing them closer to a future neither of them had chosen.