[Leif’s Pov—Wedding Day—Continuation]

The kiss... ended slowly.

Soft lips pulling away, foreheads still touching, breaths tangled, our rings still warm between our hands.

Applause erupted. Alina squealed. Nick wiped his eyes like a proud mother. Even the High Priest sniffled discreetly.

Everything was perfect.

Too perfect.

But before fate snapped its jaws around us...we lived the happiest minutes of our lives.

The ceremony flowed into celebration.

Tables appeared out of nowhere—covered in white silk and glittering with golden plates. Musicians played soft, romantic music. Guests laughed, clinked glasses, and congratulated us like we were the center of the world.

Someone handed Alvar a bottle of champagne.

He popped it open with one hand—effortless, smooth—sparkling bubbles burst into the air like it was raining celebration. People cheered.

Alvar’s arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer as he poured the champagne into two crystal glasses.

"To my husband," he said softly, lifting his glass.

My heart somersaulted. "To my husband," I echoed—and we tapped our glasses gently before drinking.

Warmth. Bubbles. Love.

Nick started crying again. Loudly.

Zephyy hopped on the table and started munching cake without permission. Alina fed him cherries like he was a royal pet.

Emma, Jenny and Natasha stood in a corner, fanning themselves dramatically and screaming silently like fangirls.

Then came the wedding cake .

A towering masterpiece—three layers, snow-white frosting, silver roses, edible starlight glitter, and a miniature figure of me dragging a miniature Alvar by his sleeve.

Alvar stared at the decoration for a long moment.

"...Is that supposed to be us?"

"Yes," Father said proudly. "Because my son has to drag you through life."

The whole place exploded with laughter—even Alvar cracked a smile. He picked up the knife and placed his hand over mine to cut the first slice.

Applause.

Guests cheering.

And then—he fed me the first bite. Sweet. Soft. Vanilla melting on my tongue. I fed him next—his eyes sparkling as he leaned closer to whisper, "I tasted something sweeter."

I elbowed him. "Behave. We are in public."

He chuckled dangerously. "I’m saving the real misbehavior for later."

The crowd erupted into dancing then—dwarves slamming mugs, elves swirling elegantly, and knights stumbling in armor trying to waltz. Children threw flower petals at random people. Someone started singing a ballad that was horribly off-key.

And there we were—in the center of it all.

Alvar cupped my cheek gently, brushing his thumb along the curve of my jaw.

"Are you happy?" he asked softly.

The answer came without hesitation.

"Yes."

His smile—soft, warm, real—was worth every nightmare, every trial, every ache.

He pressed a kiss to my forehead.

"My Leif."

I leaned into his touch.

"My Alvar."

The music swelled.

The world glowed.

Our fingers intertwined.

Our rings matched.

And the people we loved laughed around us like nothing bad could ever happen again. Everything was beautiful.

Too beautiful.

My smile froze the moment my eyes drifted across the crowd again.

Princess Sirella.

Standing alone near the roses. Hands trembling. Fingers twitching against her sleeves over and over again—not nervousness, but panic. Desperation.

My heart lurched.

"Zephyy."

Zephyy’s head popped up from behind the cake stand—his entire face smeared with cream.

"Yes, master?"

His little body waddled over and hopped onto my shoulder, licking frosting off his claws. "Did you find anything odd on Sirella? Anything demonic?"

Zephyy blinked once, his gaze shifting toward her.

A pause.

Then — " Not now, Master. She looks clean. No impurity around her aura. She’s... normal."

A breath left me.

"...Maybe we were just overthinking," I murmured aloud.

Zephyy nodded once, relieved—and immediately hopped down again. "I shall continue eating my cake," he declared with the dignity of a starving king.

Despite everything, I smiled.

That moment—that tiny distraction—was enough for Alvar to notice.

He slid an arm around my waist and pulled me closer, lips brushing my ear. "Did something happen, honey?"

Honey.

My brain short-circuited.

"Ho—honey?" I stuttered like a broken record.

He smirked—dark, sinful, smug—the kind of smile that could set nations on fire.

"Of course. We’re married now, aren’t we? Shouldn’t we start addressing each other properly?"He deliberately made his voice deep and slow, "Honey. Darling. Beloved. My everything..."

I hissed internally.

"Gosh—you’re too much," I muttered, face burning.

He chuckled low in his chest and tightened his grip around my waist so firmly I knew I wasn’t escaping.

"Shall we greet the guests now?" he asked, leaning down to kiss my temple softly.

I nodded... even though every cell inside me wanted to hide under a table and die from embarrassment.

We began to walk together—hand in hand—to greet the nobles and the villagers waiting in line. Laughter echoed again. Music swirled. Petals danced in the wind.

For a single, fleeting heartbeat...

I let myself believe that this was all real, that nothing could tear us apart anymore, and that we had finally reached our peace.

But the universe has never loved me gently.

Because hidden in the corner of the garden —hands trembling again—Princess Sirella’s fingers tightened around something inside her sleeve.

And fate quietly raised its blade.

Alvar let go of my waist for exactly one second. His mother immediately grabbed me in a crushing hug.

"My single pathetic son finally married!!" she wailed dramatically. "My new son—my new treasure—my precious angel—!"

I choked. "I—I can’t breathe—"

Alvar gently pried her off me. "Mother, please let my man inhale."

She sniffed, then cupped my cheeks. "Leif, sweetie, if my son ever upsets you again, just tell me."Her smile sharpened. "I’ll bury him."

I blinked.

Across from us, my father nodded approvingly, like he had just found his favorite in-law.

"Good. I like her."

Alvar whispered to me under his breath, horrified, "Are our parents trying to form an assassination alliance against me?"

I whispered back, "Yes. Yes, they are."

Then—my father stepped forward and shook Alvar’s hand firmly.

Too firmly.

"My son," Father said formally, then added in a lower tone, "hurt him again, and I stab you."

Alvar’s smile twitched. "I—will keep that in mind."

My mother pinched Father’s arm. "Stop scaring the groom."

Father corrected immediately, "Not the groom—my son-in-law."

My mother sighed but then hugged Alvar warmly. "Welcome to the family, dear. I’ve always wanted another son."

Then she looked at me with that mother expression—the one that says I know everything.

"You look happy, Leif," she said softly.

I swallowed. "...I am."

Her smile warmed. "Then we are happy."

Alina hugged us, saying, "I am happy too."

We chuckled and For one perfect moment—everything felt safe.

Music floated. Laughter spread. People cheered and clapped and toasted to our future. Alvar’s hand rested on my waist like it belonged there.

Nothing could possibly go wrong.

So we thought.

We began greeting everyone—nobles, villagers, allies, merchants, and foreign guests—one after another.

And then—

"Princess Sirella." Alvar called out politely.

She approached, smiling perfectly—too perfectly. "Congratulations, Grand Duke. And Leif," she said smoothly.

I nodded. "Thank you. How are you, Sirella?"

"Good," she replied—but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. "I’m happy to see you both married."

We clinked champagne glasses.A polite toast.

I took a sip. She did too.

"How is the Crown Prince?" I asked casually.

She flinched. A tiny tremor—barely visible—but I saw it. Then she forced a smile. "Good."

A silence stretched—thin and brittle. Alvar’s hand slid subtly onto my back. Protective. He leaned close and whispered, "Let’s go."

I nodded.Alvar looked at Sirella and said gently, "Please enjoy the ceremony."

She bowed, polite as ever... yet her hands behind her back were shaking . We walked away, but unease coiled in my gut.

"Why did we invite the Imperial family again?" I muttered.

Alvar sighed quietly. "Protocol, Leif. Frojnholm isn’t an independent kingdom yet. We’re still tied to the Empire."

"Tch. These stupid... protocols."

He chuckled softly, brushing his thumb along my knuckles. "Come on. Let’s get some sweets. You’ll feel better."

And for a while—I did.

I sat down as servants brought out the dessert tables—cakes, tarts, honey pastries, and sparkling wine. It was warm. Safe. Beautiful.

I took a bite.

"Mm... it’s tasty... Our chefs really are good."

Alvar nodded, leaning close to whisper in my ear, voice low and teasing. "After this... let’s escape, okay?"

Heat rushed into my face. I nodded shyly. Everything was perfect.

Until—

"My lord—!!!"

A scream. One voice—sharp enough to shatter the music. Everyone gasped. People stood abruptly. Chairs scraped.

I blinked, confused. "Huh...? What—"

My vision wavered. A sudden dizziness—cold and violent—crashed through my skull.

I swayed.

Something wet dripped onto my wedding suit.

Trickle!

Trickle!

Red.

I stared at the spot numbly.

"...blood?"

Where—?

I lifted my trembling hand... and touched something warm on my lips.

Blood.

My blood.

I looked up at Alvar.

His face was twisted in horror. His eyes — wide, shaking, terrified.

"L—Leif—!" His voice broke.

He reached toward me—slow, desperate—like he was moving through water.

And then— THUD.

The world shattered into darkness. No sound. No warmth. No light. Just the cold echo of fate finally striking.