The rain had stopped by the time the Duke's knights arrived at the Count's mansion. The grand estate glimmered under the dull gray sky, its marble walls polished to hide the rot that lingered inside.
Inside the lavish drawing room, whispers filled the air. The Count, his wife Eliza, and their son Ian sat across from the Duke's most trusted man, Sir Lucien, who had come bearing a message sealed with the Duke's black insignia.
The Count's sharp eyes gleamed as Lucien spoke.
"His Grace, Duke Albert Vortiger, has expressed his wish to form a marital alliance with your daughter."
For a heartbeat, silence hung in the air. Then, a slow, pleased smile curved across the Count's face.
To him, it was opportunity.
To Eliza, it was fortune — and freedom from the girl she despised.
"He seeks to marry her?" Eliza asked, pretending to sound surprised but barely hiding her delight. "Even knowing about his curse?"
Lucien's calm expression didn't waver. "His Grace is aware of all matters. The Duke does not take decisions lightly."
Ian leaned back, swirling the wine in his glass, his lips twisting into a mock smile. "A cursed Duke and a cursed daughter... a perfect pair."
The Count silenced him with a cold look, then turned to Lucien. "Tell His Grace that I accept. It is a great honor for our family."
Their decision was made — without Selene's consent.
But before any of them could speak further, the sound of soft footsteps echoed down the marble corridor. The door opened.
She entered.
Selene Von Hallow — the daughter they had just traded away — stepped into the room with quiet grace. The dull light from the chandelier caught in her silver-blonde hair, cascading like silk down her back. Her pale skin glowed softly, as if kissed by moonlight, and her eyes — clear as crystal blue — held a calm, distant sorrow.
Her gown was simple yet elegant, the pale color contrasting with the dark velvet furniture around her. She looked like a vision that didn't belong in this house.
Lucien froze for a moment. He had met countless noblewomen before — vain, painted faces hiding ambition. But this girl... her beauty felt unreal. There was something fragile, but also dangerous, like light trapped inside glass.
He quickly stood and bowed. "Lady Selene."
She inclined her head slightly, voice steady. "Sir Lucien, I believe my family has been discussing something important?"
Eliza frowned. "This is a family matter. You need not—"
"Enough," the Count interrupted. "Sir Lucien, continue."
Lucien glanced between them, then spoke firmly. "With your permission, my lady, I would like a word in private."
The room fell silent.
Eliza immediately protested. "Private? She is still a child of this house! We have the right to—"
But the Count cut her off again, his tone sharp. "Eliza. Leave."
Her lips tightened, but she stood. Ian's eyes lingered on Selene for a moment — an unreadable smile playing on his lips — before following his mother out.
As the heavy door closed behind them, only Lucien and Selene remained in the room. The air felt heavier now, as if even the walls listened.
Lucien lowered his voice. "My lady, I come with a proposal. From Duke Albert Vortiger himself."
Selene looked up, her expression unreadable.
Outside, thunder rolled again in the distance — as if fate itself had spoken.
The sound of rain had faded into silence, replaced only by the faint ticking of the clock above the fireplace.
Lucien placed a sealed parchment on the table between them.
"This," he began, his voice measured and respectful, "is the marriage contract proposed by His Grace, Duke Albert Vortiger."
Selene didn't move. Her pale fingers rested lightly on the edge of the table, her expression calm but distant.
Lucien continued, carefully choosing his words.
"The Duke is prepared to offer any price your family demands in return for your hand. The marriage will be bound by contract, lasting only until the Duke's curse is cured. Upon dissolution, you will be granted full freedom — both from this union and from your family's authority."
Selene's lashes lifted slowly.
"Freedom...?"
Lucien nodded once. "A generous amount of compensation will also be provided. The Duke understands that life within House Brown has not been kind to you."
At that, her eyes darkened slightly — just enough for him to know he had struck a buried wound.
Lucien placed another parchment beside the contract. "His Grace also instructed me to mention — we are aware of your... affinity. For dark magic."
The faintest flicker of emotion crossed her face, gone almost instantly.
"My affinity?" she said softly. "That's hardly a secret."
"Perhaps," Lucien said. "But what is lesser known is that your gift may be tied to something greater. A prophecy, to be precise."
Selene's heart stopped for a moment.
She hadn't heard that word in years — not since the night her mother died, whispering those same words through pale lips:
'Beware the shadow that wears a crown, for only your light may end his darkness... at the price of your own.'
Her voice came out calm, though her heart trembled.
"So... even the Duke knows of that tale?"
Lucien met her eyes with a faint glint of curiosity. "You flinched, my lady. So, you've heard it too."
Selene gave a faint, humorless smile. "Tales spread faster than truth in this empire. Perhaps the Duke is too eager to chase ghosts."
Lucien's expression hardened slightly. "His Grace does not chase ghosts, my lady. He hunts them."
The words hung between them — sharp, heavy, final.
Selene leaned back slightly, her voice low and almost mocking. "Then tell me, Sir Lucien... what if I decline?"
The knight's face turned cold. His hand brushed the hilt of his sword, though he made no move to draw it.
"Then," he said quietly, "we would have no choice but to terminate the one who carries the curse's cure."
His gaze met hers — steady, unflinching. "But His Grace believes you are not so foolish. This union will give you what you've been denied your entire life — your freedom."
For a long moment, silence filled the room again. The fire flickered, casting their shadows long across the walls — one sharp, one soft, like darkness and light caught in fragile balance.
Finally, Selene rose slowly to her feet. "So that's how it is... A marriage built on desperation and prophecy."
Her lips curved faintly, though her eyes were unreadable.
"Tell your Duke," she said softly, "that if fate truly demands this union, then let him come himself."
Lucien's brows furrowed slightly — the first crack in his composed mask. But he said nothing. He simply bowed low.
"As you wish, my lady."
As he turned to leave, thunder rolled again in the distance — louder this time, as if echoing her choice.