[Leif’s POV—ThorenVald Estate—Wedding Hall Preparations Begin]

The world smelled like flowers.

Literally.

Every inch of the estate was exploding with white lilies, crystal lanterns, and sparkling fabric that Alina kept calling "magical fairy dust curtains." Workers rushed around carrying long ribbons, giant wreaths, crates of candles, trays of snacks—

It was beautiful.

It was chaotic.

And I loved it.

I sat in the bridal preparation hall wearing a silk robe as the Three Beautifying Demons—Emma, Jenny, and Natasha—circled me with the concentration of surgeons and the enthusiasm of dramatic theater actors.

"Emma, the curls!"

"Already doing them!"

"Jenny, highlight!"

"On it!"

"Natasha, the suit accessories!"

"I AM GOD."

...They were terrifying.

Alina sat opposite me, kicking her legs happily, watching the three women spin around me like glitter tornadoes.

"Brother!" she shouted. "You’re glowing!"

"That’s the highlight, baby," Jenny said, elbow-deep in cosmetics. "He will outshine the groom."

I blinked. "Wait—no, I don’t want to outshine Alvar. I want us to shine equally—"

"EWW," they all said in unison. Romantics were not allowed in their sacred beautician zone, apparently.

I sighed dramatically. "Fine. I guess... I want to outshine him now."

The Three Beautifying Demons paused—then, like a cult receiving a divine revelation—They all gave me a thumbs up .

In slow motion. With sparkles. And then—

CURLING. TUGGING. BRUSHING. PULLING. PINCHING. MORE CURLING. SOMETHING THAT FELT LIKE AN EXORCISM.

My hair was being curled aggressively, my face massaged with the passion of a thousand ancestors, my cheeks pinched like mochi dough, and my eyebrows—Dear god—were being trimmed one hair at a time like a national treasure.

After ten minutes, I was 90% sure my soul had abandoned my body. After twenty minutes, I was certain I could see it floating near the ceiling. After thirty minutes...I was finally ready.

They stepped back dramatically. "Now...that’s how the goddess gets jealous."

I stood up in slow motion. Turned toward the mirror—And froze.

My wedding suit shimmered...The cloak behind me billowed like I had my own personal wind god...

My aura? Stunning.My face? Illegal.My hair? A national treasure.

"I am so f**king beautiful," I whispered, awe-struck. "I would marry myself at this rate."

Nick nodded like a proud mother. Emma wiped a fake tear. Jenny clutched her heart. Natasha whispered, "Slay, my child."

Then—

"BROTHER!!!"

Alina rushed toward me carrying something white and floaty.

A veil.

She held it up like she was about to crown a king. "Brother... you should wear this too!"

Natasha blinked rapidly. "Uh... sweetheart... men generally don’t wear veils."

Alina stared at her like she had just spoken blasphemy.

"But brother is getting married to brother-in-law," she said firmly. "He will walk down the aisle too. He should look like... like..." She waved her arms wildly— "LIKE A CELESTIAL FAIRY!"

Natasha recoiled. "O-Oh. That’s... very specific."

I knelt down to meet Alina’s eyes.

Her little hands held the veil like it was sacred. Her cheeks puffed in excitement. Her eyes sparkled brighter than dragon flames.

"Do you want me to wear it?" I asked softly.

She nodded vigorously. "Yes! You’ll be even MORE beautiful!"

My chest softened. I kissed her forehead gently. "If my dearest sister wants it... I will wear it."

"YAAAAYYYYY!!!"

She hopped like a bunny high on sugar as Natasha sighed dramatically.

"Fine," Natasha said, rolling her shoulders like a soldier preparing for war. "We are breaking tradition today."

Emma and Jenny nodded in slow, dramatic unison. And then—

KNOCK! KNOCK!!!

"Leif... it’s me."

Father’s voice.

My spine straightened. "Father? Please come in!"

The door creaked open. My father—Count Viktor Thorenvald—walked in like he was here to interrogate a traitor.

Face serious. Eyebrows furrowed. Aura: Cold Commander. Temperature of the room: dropped by 5 degrees.

He scanned me up and down.

"So," he said, arms crossed. "You’re ready."

I gave a polite smile. "Yes."

He nodded... once... sharply... and stepped forward. "I brought a wedding gift for you."

"Oh?" I blinked, genuinely touched. "Father, you didn’t have to—"

He handed me a heavy wooden box. "Take it," he said. "It will be helpful for you... in your married life."

My brain paused.

Helpful... in my married life?

In what way exactly—I opened the box and froze.

DEAD. P A N N E D.

Everyone froze.

Emma’s jaw dropped. Jenny squeaked. Natasha looked like she witnessed a crime.Nick’s soul left his body. Zephyy clutched his head dramatically.

"Master..." Zephyy whispered, horrified. "Does your father want to kill your soon-to-be husband?"

Because inside the box was—A full-sized crossbow. Polished. Deadly. With a quiver of bolts.And a beautifully engraved dagger underneath.

I stared.

"...Father."

He nodded proudly. "Yes?"

"This is..."

"Yes," he said firmly, arms folding behind his back like he just passed me a family heirloom. "A crossbow and a dagger."

"I can see that."

"They are excellent quality," he said with a proud expression.

"I can see that too."

"This will be VERY helpful in your marriage," he said with a deadly expression.

"FA—THER."

He blinked innocently. Like he wasn’t handing me medieval WEAPONS on my wedding day. "What? You are marrying Grand Duke Alvar. You need protection."

Natasha whispered, "Protection from WHAT? Marital taxes??"

"Protection?? From WHAT—?!" I asked.

He continued as if I hadn’t spoken at all. "Lief, I know he made you upset and cry last week."

My entire soul glitched.

"...What?"

Father sighed dramatically, placing a heavy hand on my shoulder like he carried the weight of the world—and my emotional damage.

"You didn’t tell us, Leif," he said softly. "But we are not dumb; we can see and understand everything."

A silence.

"We saw your puffy eyes. We saw how quiet you were. We saw how that idiot Grand Duke made you upset."

"Father—!"

"We tolerated it," he said gravely. "For one week. But today? Today is your wedding day." A terrifying glint entered his eyes.

"And if he upsets you again—" He held up the dagger. "—I expect you to stab him. Once. Lightly. Just to warn him."

Everyone in the room collectively died inside.

Zephyy squeaked, "Master... your father is scary."

Natasha whispered, "Baby, this is not protection... this is assassination."

This wedding was absolutely going to kill someone. And it might be Alvar.

My father continued calmly: "You are delicate, Leif. Fragile. Too kind. Too soft. If Alvar misbehaves," Father said seriously, with the solemn tone of an emperor giving war orders, "aim for the leg. The left one. He’s weaker there."

I gasped. "Father!!"

Zephyy raised his tiny paw. "Master... please do not shoot your husband on the wedding night..."

Father added casually, "For serious offenses, aim higher. Kneecap or rib."

"FATHER!!!"

Natasha whispered to Emma, "...Is this normal for men in Frojnholm?"

Emma whispered back, "This is BEYOND normal. This is cultural trauma."

Father patted my shoulder with fatherly confidence.

"I believe in you, son. As long as you have this crossbow, your marriage will last long and peacefully."

I blinked. Slowly. "...Father. That sentence makes no sense."

"It makes perfect sense."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

He scowled. "I am your father. Listen to me."

Zephyy tugged my sleeve. "Master, I think he wants you armed for your first night because Grand Duke Alvar is... very strong."

I covered my face. "...Oh my god."

Father nodded proudly at everyone. "Good. You understand."

No, we absolutely did not. But before I could argue, Father headed toward the door like a man satisfied with his life choices.

"Use them wisely," he said, pausing dramatically. "Especially the dagger. It is balanced. Sharp. Beautiful work."

"I have Luminal, though."

And as he left—The door closed—And the room remained in absolute silence.

Then Nick whispered, "...Should I prepare medical supplies for His Grace... just in case?"

This wedding was already cursed. And it hadn’t even started yet.

I blindly shoved the crossbow and dagger toward Nick. "Nick. Please. Put this in my chamber. Preferably somewhere Alvar won’t accidentally find it and think I’m planning a coup."

"Yes, my lord," he said politely.

Once he left, I let out a long sigh and walked toward the window.

I needed air. Mental stability. A break from fathers wielding weapons and beauticians clicking like K-pop idols.

Outside, the territory glowed.

Villagers were bustling—hanging banners, carrying flowers, gossiping excitedly, preparing seats, arguing about who would catch the bouquet.

The whole place shimmered with celebration.

My wedding. My big day. My dream come true.

My chest warmed—Until my gaze caught something.

A figure dressed in pale imperial robes. Moving a bit too slowly. A bit too stiffly.

"...Princess Sirella?"

I blinked.

"Oh. I thought she wouldn’t come."

But the closer I looked, the more something felt—Wrong.

Her hands.

Her hands were trembling. Not delicately. Not nervously. Violently. Like she was trying to hold onto something. Or trying not to drop something.

"Master..." Zephyy suddenly hopped onto my shoulder, staring intensely out the window.

"What is it?" I asked.

His pupils slit narrow—Dragon instincts fully awake. "I sense an impurity."

I stiffened. "Impurity? From who?"

Zephyy pointed his tiny claw. "At her. Princess Sirella."

My stomach dropped. "Sirella...?"

He nodded slowly, ears flattening. "It’s faint. But old. And hungry. And...it’s coming from her hands."

My blood ran cold. Her hands.

Trembling hands. Holding something I couldn’t see.

"...What is she—"

Before I could finish, Baron Sigurd appeared outside and warmly greeted her, escorting her deeper toward the decorated garden— The place where the wedding ceremony would happen.

Sirella’s steps were quiet.

Her face pale. Her grip—tightening around something hidden in her sleeve. My heartbeat stumbled.

Zephyy whispered, voice barely a breath: "Master... something is wrong."

"...Yeah. I can feel it too."

And as Sirella disappeared behind the archway of wedding flowers—A cold shiver crawled down my spine.

Something terrible was coming. And it was coming straight for my wedding.