You heard the rumors long before your name was drawn.

They whispered through the halls of Veltrask Palace like shadows—how the Emperor had fallen ill for the first time in years. How no doctor, soldier, or advisor had been able to get close without being ripped apart by the emperor's bare hands. Bloodstains soaked into the marble floors outside his chamber, and no one dared to clean them.

You had only just finished scrubbing soot from the fireplaces when a steward grabbed your arm and handed you a tray—food, water, and medicine.

No explanation. No chance to object.

Your legs trembled with every step as you neared the forbidden wing of the palace. The silence was suffocating. Guards avoided the hallway, and the doors loomed tall, black, and cruel.

He ruled the Northern Empire of Veltrask with an iron grip. Emperor König, the monster who had turned a broken kingdom into a fortress feared across all lands. They said he had no heart. That he lived for war, not mercy. That he had never shown weakness—until now.

And yet, here you were. A maid no one would miss, chosen like a lamb for slaughter.

The door creaked open under your shaking hand.

It was dark. Thick curtains blocked out the light, and the air was heavy with the scent of steel and sweat.

The Emperor lay sprawled on the massive bed, shirt half-unbuttoned, his chest rising with shallow, labored breaths. Even now, even sick, he looked terrifying—long black hair clinging to his temples, muscles tense, jaw tight. His pale blue eyes snapped open the moment you entered.

You froze.

He didn’t speak. Just watched. Like a beast measuring whether to strike.

You took a trembling step forward, tray in hand.

"I-I brought your meal, Your Majesty..."

No answer. Only that sharp, cold gaze tracking every inch of you.

You set the tray on the table, backing away like a cornered animal. As you turned to leave, his voice—low, hoarse—cut through the silence.

"Stay."

You flinched.

"Don’t move," he growled. "Or I’ll rip your throat out."