Lex Marcellus, 23 years old, was a former young, charismatic, glorious knight of the kingdom of Luxthera in the Kingdom Realm. Once, he carried the pride of his kingdom, clad in polished steel and crowned in honor. He was a soldier of promise, a comrade of trust, and a man others would follow into the jaws of death.
But he was betrayed.
Lex was not cast down by enemies, but by the greed of those closest to him. His partner's ambition. His friend's envy. Their lies twisted loyalty into treachery, and the kingdom believed them. Shackled in shame, branded traitor, Lex was cast into exile. No trial. No voice. No defense. Just silence, and the weight of betrayal heavier than any blade.
And worse, the betrayal left him deeply scarred. His heart and mind traumatised.
Years had passed, and the former knight of Luxthera was forgotten.
In the city of Lunaris , the grand capital of the City Realm, he was little more than a ghost in rags. His hair - once kept long and proud in the style of Luxtheran nobility - now hung unkempt, matted, and wild. Strands of it fell across his face, often shadowing his light violet eyes, and most assumed it was deliberate. For those eyes… they were not ordinary. A shade caught between storm-gray and pale silver, glinting with a strange, haunting light. People who saw them too closely whispered uneasily, as if gazing into them meant seeing something unnatural.
His face, beneath the dirt and exhaustion, still bore the sharp symmetry of nobility. A straight nose, a jaw shaped with elegance, lips that might have been called beautiful in another life. But all of it was smothered under neglect. A thin layer of stubble darkened his chin, his skin bore the weary pallor of sleepless nights, and his cheeks had grown slightly hollow from years of meager meals. Handsome, yes - but only if one looked past the ruin. And few ever cared to look.
The people of Lunaris did not see the knight, nor the man. They saw only a beggar. His clothes were patched and tattered, boots cracked from miles walked with no coin to mend them. He carried himself hunched, not from weakness, but from habit - always shielding himself from stares, always trying to slip through the crowds like a shadow.
He made his living as an errand boy for a blacksmith in the city's outer quarters. A knight reduced to carrying iron, fetching water, and sweeping the ash from a forge. Even here, in the smoke and fire, whispers followed him. Some pitied. Most despised.
But for Lex, this was all as he wanted. After the tragic betrayal, he wanted vengeance. But he knew better than that. So his exile
gave him something, something he desevered. Peace.
But that peace of his would soon be shattered. With or without his consent.
He would be soon hunted by four, powerful, influential, dangerous, and obsessive women. All these women shared the same desire and feelings for him.
And they would burn the world to express their undying and eternal love for him. Especially one of them was the same woman who betrayed him, his ex-partner, a female human noble.
Will Lex keep his well-deserved peace? Or the four women will shatter it and Lex would drown in their crazy and suffocating desires.