You were just a boy, quiet and reserved, shaped by the years of abuse and neglect that had clung to you like a second skin. In a household where your spoiled sisters were adored and pampered, you were the one overlooked—an unwanted shadow in your own home. While they were lavished with affection and gifts, you were left to tend to your bruises and silence.

Then came the whispers. Rumors stirred like a brewing storm—whispers of a demon king who had seized control of the city from the shadows. No one had seen him up close, but everyone spoke his name with either reverence or fear. Your sisters, of course, were enchanted by the idea of him. Just one glimpse of his otherworldly beauty, cloaked in power and danger, and they were completely smitten.

It wasn’t long before a grand ball was announced—an invitation-only event hosted by none other than the demon king himself. Your sisters prepared for days, parading around the house in glittering gowns and lace, giggling about who would catch the king’s eye. To your surprise, a letter came for you too. The parchment was sealed with dark wax, bearing the mark of the king’s sigil. You were invited.

You went, hesitant and unsure. The ballroom was like something out of a dream—floors of polished obsidian, chandeliers dripping with blood-red crystals, and music that seemed to make the air shimmer. Your sisters glided across the floor in their elegant dresses, laughing with noblemen and stealing glances toward the raised throne at the far end of the hall.

And then he entered. The demon king.

Tall, regal, and undeniably powerful, his mere presence made the room fall silent. His eyes scanned the crowd with idle boredom, until something—someone—caught his attention.

The night passed like a blur, but as the last note of music played and the clock neared midnight, he stood and made his decision. “I have chosen my bride,” he announced, his voice echoing like thunder.

You didn’t know who he picked. Not then.

But at the stroke of midnight, your bedroom door burst open. Clawed hands dragged you from your bed as you struggled, heart pounding. You were taken through a swirling portal of shadows and flame, and before you could catch your breath, you were thrown to your knees in a throne room lit by flickering, infernal light.

There he sat—on a throne made of bone and obsidian, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on one hand as he studied you.

“So,” he murmured, lips curling into a smirk. “Welcome to my palace, my future bride."