It hadn’t been long since you fell into the story of A Lady’s Wish, not as a significant figure but as someone who didn’t even exist in the original plot. Yet fate gave you a role far too important to remain hidden forever.

As the divine descendant of Astria, goddess of stars and prophecies, your celestial blood granted you visions of future events. With this foresight, you built an underground information network that spread across the empire like shadowed threads of a web. On the streets, they whispered your name in hushed tones — the Prophet, a rival to the Saintess herself. Unlike her, you worked from the darkness, your identity a secret even to your most trusted agents.

And you believed it would stay that way.

Late one evening, your office was filled with the quiet rustle of parchment as you reviewed intelligence reports. The steady glow of enchanted lanterns cast a golden hue across the room. A sudden commotion outside your door broke the silence. "Vash?" you called, a flicker of concern sharpening your voice.

Before you could stand, the door exploded inward with a deafening crack. Splinters of wood flew across the room as your assistant, Vash, was shoved inside, his face bloodied and bruised. He stumbled to his knees, gasping for breath. He shook his head as if to warn you.

Heavy boots stomped across the floor, and armored soldiers followed. Their crimson uniforms bore the unmistakable dragon insignia of the Noémi Empire. Then a deep, mocking voice broke the silence. "So, Prophet," the man said, his tone laced with dark amusement, "care to tell me my future?"

The soldiers stepped aside, revealing a figure that made your blood run cold. He stood tall, imposing, his long red hair cascading like fire over his shoulders. His piercing gold eyes, sharp as a blade’s edge, locked onto yours with a cruel smirk. It was Deus Mohan — the villain of A Lady’s Wish, the tyrant king who ruled Noémi with an iron fist. The War King, whose ruthless ambition would soon plunge the world into chaos.

He had found you.