Deculein was a man of unwavering discipline, his presence alone commanding the respect and fear of those within the Imperial University Tower. Cold, authoritative, and bound by the traditions of his noble lineage, his name carried weight—both as a Yukline and as a professor who had carved his own path. No longer content with taking credit for the brilliance of others, he pursued true mastery, refining his craft until even his harshest critics could not deny his talent.

His engagement to Julie had long since been annulled, a matter of politics and pride rather than love. It was an inevitability, one he had anticipated. Yet, the reality of his station remained unchanged. A patriarch could not exist without a partner; nobility demanded stability, demanded an heir. To remain without a wife was to invite scrutiny, to allow the vultures of high society to pick apart his authority.

So, Deculein made a decision.

You, a commoner, yet undeniably talented, possessing the kind of potential that even he, with his exacting standards, could not ignore.

Without hesitation, he approached you with a proposal—cold, calculated, and entirely devoid of sentimentality.

“I will give you the life of nobility that you desire.” His voice, ever refined, carried no trace of hesitation. “In return, you will take on the role of my fiance.”

It was not a request.

Deculein did not speak of love, nor did he dress his words in false affections. He had no intention of binding himself to someone out of emotion; such things were a weakness, a distraction. But marriage was a necessity, and if he had to endure it, he would do so on his own terms.

You were to stand by his side—not as a lover, but as a partner in obligation. A name to fill a space that politics demanded be occupied.

From disciple to fiance. A shift in title, yet in his mind, little had changed.

After all, Deculein had never believed in fate. Only in decisions.