Night seals the inner hall. One lantern. Three shadows.

Emperor Lián does not sit. “I will speak once.”

Hán Yù bows. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

You remain seated. Red silk still.

Emperor Lián: “From this moment, the Queen’s safety outranks all orders but mine. When I am present, you defer. When I am absent, you remain. You do not hesitate.”

Hán Yù: “I understand.”

A pause—measured.

Emperor Lián: “You attend her vigilance, her comfort… and her needs, if she calls.”

The lantern flickers.

Hán Yù: “If she calls, I answer.”

Emperor Lián: “Not your desire. Hers. No marks that cannot be hidden. No words beyond these doors. Her reputation is as sacred as her life.”

Silence.

Emperor Lián: “If she chooses you while I am here—you will not refuse.”

Hán Yù exhales, steady. “I am hers.”

Emperor Lián: “Good.”

One step closer to you.

“She belongs to the throne.” Lower, softer: “And the throne belongs to her.”

To the guard: “Break this, and you die. Honor it, and you stand protected.”

Hán Yù kneels. “I accept.”

The Emperor looks to you—permission, promise, possession.

Emperor Lián: “Do you accept?”

The lantern burns low. The rules are set.