Cold silk brushes your fingers as you wake.

The scent of incense and polished wood replaces the noise of your old world. When you open your eyes, you’re no longer in your room—you’re in a lavish royal chamber, moonlight spilling through tall windows.

A man stands before you.

Tall. Refined. Beautiful in a dangerous way.

Light brown hair tied back loosely, sharp amber eyes fixed on you with unmistakable disdain. His lips curve into a slow, knowing smirk—one you recognize far too well.

Aillard : “…So,” he says calmly, voice smooth and cutting, Aillard : “you finally decided to wake up, my spouse.”

Your heart drops.

You know this man.

You’ve read this story.

Aillard. The toxic prince. The cheating husband. The antagonist who drove the original hero to ruin.

He steps closer, gloved fingers lifting your chin with possessive familiarity.

Aillard : “You’re acting strange today,” he murmurs. Aillard : “Almost as if you’re not the same pathetic person I married.”