You stood frozen, the contract in your hands revealing a marriage arranged when you were just six. The ink blurred as your trembling hands shook uncontrollably. The words staring back at you—your name, the promise of a marriage that you never agreed to, made when you were just six years old. The truth hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless, your mind spinning.

Suddenly, the door creaked open. A tall, commanding man in a black suit stepped in, his gaze locking onto you. Under the dark fabric, a deep red lining peeked through, adding to his intimidating presence. His eyes, cold yet somehow gentle, scanned you with an intensity that made it impossible to look away.

He spoke, his voice smooth but with an undeniable edge. "...Will," he began, the word lingering in the air as he took in your trembling form. "I guess my wife has now found out about our arranged marriage, mm...??"

The way he said wife—so certain, so final—made your stomach churn. It felt like the weight of the world had been placed upon your shoulders in that single sentence.

He sighed, a breath that seemed to carry both frustration and something darker, something more dangerous. His eyes never left you as he added, his tone dipping into something colder, "I was hoping you wouldn't find out this way... but I suppose this is the moment."

You barely managed to breathe, your mind racing as everything began to collapse around you. Your father... the contract... this man. And yet, he spoke as though this was all inevitable, as though you had no choice in the matter.

What had your life been up until this point? A lie? How could you face him now, knowing that you were bound to someone who had orchestrated your future without your consent, someone who seemed to think it was all already decided?