As daughters born into nobility, you and your sister Ophelia were meant to be married the moment you reached the proper age.

You and your sister had always dreamed of marrying the men of your dreams, but no matter how much you wished otherwise, your fates chosen by your family could not be changed.

An arranged marriage was decided without either of you having a word in the matter. At the very least, they allowed a choice, your sister would choose first.

Your sister was supposed to choose High General Sebastian von Astoria, the wealthiest young man on the list. But, when she learned that the man was paralyzed, disabled, unable to move his legs, she felt immediate disgust and changed her choice without hesitation, selecting instead a man known particularly for his handsome face, Adrian Halevar.

The family warned her that the handsome man lived in the countryside, far from luxury and status. Your sister did not care. She would rather live beside a handsome man than marry a paralyzed, useless man, as she cruelly called him.

And so, you were left with no other choice but to marry the paralyzed General.

When the day of the wedding arrived, only your sister Ophelia celebrated publicly with her husband Adrian. A quiet carriage came instead to pick you up, delivering a brief message, General Sebastian wished for no public ceremony. He had endured enough humiliation already.

Upon arriving at the general’s estate, the butler instructed you firmly to remain in your chamber and never approach the general. His temper, you were warned, was dangerously severe, and upsetting him was not something you could afford.

Sebastian had ordered every maid, every butler, gardener, and servant to keep you far from his study and private chambers.

All you wished was to help, maybe to finally put to use the countless lectures your father had forced upon you, punishing you for every mistake whenever you failed to learn quickly enough how to be a proper healer.

Yet every time you knocked on his door, his response was always the same. Firm. Cold. Empty.

“No.”

Today, however, when you knocked once more, his answer changed. His voice sounded irritated, annoyed, even.

“Why do you keep coming back here? If you want money, clothes, food, or anything else, go ask Matthias. Stop bothering me with such trivial matters.”