The doors to the bridal chamber flew open with a bang that made Elara jump.
A young woman in flowing white robes rushed in, golden hair shining under a soft holy glow, tears streaming down her flawless face. Liora—the game's heroine. The commoner with rare light powers who was supposed to "save" the prince from the evil villainess.
"Your Highness!" Liora cried, voice trembling. "She's dangerous! I had a vision—she'll curse you, ruin you, destroy everything!"
Elara rolled her eyes so hard she thought they might fall out. Fake tears, dramatic entrance—classic heroine bullshit. I've seen this scene a hundred times while gaming with ice cream and wine.
Draven didn't even turn fully. His hand was still resting over Elara's heartbeat, warm and heavy. He glanced at Liora with the same interest he'd give a fly on the wall. "Leave us," he said, voice flat and cold. "This is a private matter."
Liora's lip quivered. "But—"
"Now."
The single word carried power. Shadows in the corners of the room seemed to stretch toward her. Liora bowed quickly, shooting Elara a tearful, pitying look before scurrying out. The doors shut behind her with a soft click.
Elara snorted. "Wow. Five stars for the performance. She almost had me convinced."
Draven finally stepped back, giving her space to breathe. His crimson eyes studied her like she was a puzzle he hadn't expected. "You are… not what the reports claimed."
"Yeah, well, reports are boring." Elara crossed her arms, trying to ignore how her pulse was still racing from his touch. Stupid demonic charm. Stupid body betraying me.
The system popped up in the corner of her vision, cheerful as ever:
[Quest Update: Survive Night 1 – Avoid Treason Accusation.
Status: Success!
Reward: +1 Escape Point.
Current Escape Points: 1]
One point? That's it? I need, like, a million to get out of this nightmare.
Draven moved to a side table, pouring deep red wine into two crystal goblets. The liquid looked thick, almost glowing. "Come," he said. "We must complete the formalities."
Elara stayed by the bedpost. "Formalities? You mean the part where we pretend this marriage is anything but a political cage?"
He turned, one brow raised. "You speak plainly."
"Damn right I do. Where I come from, we don't do this arranged-marriage crap anymore." She caught herself."Of course there were a few exceptions" She trailed off.Careful, Elara. Don't spill the transmigration beans yet.
Draven handed her a goblet. She took it warily. He raised his own. "To alliance."
She clinked glasses half-heartedly. "To surviving this bullshit."
He ignored the curse and drank. Elara sipped—rich, spicy, definitely not Earth wine. Her eyes watered a little. Strong stuff. Perfect.
Draven set his glass down and stepped closer again. This time, he lifted her chin with two fingers, forcing her to meet his gaze. His touch was light, but heat shot straight through her skin. Damn demonic aura, and why the fuck did he have to look like her ex husband?
"This marriage is a contract," he said, voice low and steady. "Nothing more. You will stand beside me in court. You will bear an heir if the council demands it. But hear me clearly, wife." His thumb brushed her lower lip, sending sparks down her spine. "Fall in love with me, and I will end you myself. I am incapable of it love or rather I don't believe it. Those who try meet only ruin."
Elara's stomach twisted—half from rage, half from the way her body reacted to his nearness. The words hit too close to her past life. Public smiles at fancy dinners. Silent nights in separate wings of the penthouse. Sex that felt like a business transaction—just to produce an heir. And in the end, his hands shoving her off a balcony.
"As if I'd ever love a cold-hearted devil like you," she spat. "Been there, done that. Got the murder to prove it."
His eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't ask what she meant. Instead, he released her chin and stepped back. "Good. We understand each other."
Do we? Elara thought. Because I understand you're going down.
The system chimed again:
[New Quest: Consummation Toast Complete.
Warning: The night isn't over yet.]
Servants had left a tray of small cakes and more wine on a low table. Elara's eyes landed on a tiny glass vial tucked among the flowers—clear liquid, unmarked. The original villainess had hidden poisons everywhere. Jackpot.
She waited until Draven turned to remove his heavy outer coat. Quick as a flash, she palmed the vial and tipped its contents into his fresh goblet while pretending to admire the cakes.
Harmless herb mix, my ass. In her old life, she'd been obsessed with natural remedies on TikTok. This stuff was supposed to knock someone out cold. Perfect for a clean escape. She handed him the goblet with a sweet smile. "Peace offering?"
He took it without suspicion and drank deeply.
Elara held her breath.
Nothing happened at first. Then Draven paused. His eyes flickered—crimson glowing brighter. A faint flush crept up his neck. He set the glass down slowly, gaze locking on her like a predator spotting prey.
Uh-oh.
"Wife," he said, voice deeper than before, rough around the edges. "What exactly did you put in my drink?"
Elara backed up a step. "Uh… nothing?"
He advanced. The air grew warmer—way too warm. Shadows danced strangely around him. His pupils dilated, and when he reached for her, his hand trembled slightly. Not from weakness. From restraint.
The system popped up in big, flashing letters:
[Assassination Attempt #1: FAILED!
Effect: Aphrodisiac Activation (Demonic Metabolism Bonus).
Affection Meter: +5%
Player, what are you DOING?!]
Elara's jaw dropped. "You've got to be kidding me."
Draven's lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile—the first real one she'd seen. "Interesting choice of herb. In demons, it has… the opposite effect."
He closed the distance in two strides, hands settling on her waist, pulling her flush against him. Heat poured off his body. His breath was hot against her ear. "You wanted me weak. Instead, you made me want."
Elara's brain short-circuited. Anger, panic, and—annoyingly—a rush of desire crashed together. His scent—dark spice and something smoky—filled her lungs. She shoved at his chest. "Back off, horn boy!"
He didn't budge. Just stared down at her, eyes glowing, breathing a little faster than before.
Think fast, Elara.
She ducked under his arm and bolted for the attached bathing chamber, slamming the heavy door behind her. She leaned against it, heart pounding. "Holy shit, holy shit."
The room was luxurious—marble tub big enough for four, steaming water already drawn (magic, probably). But no lock on the door. And—her eyes scanned—no toilet. Just a fancy chamber pot in the corner.
She groaned loudly. "No indoor plumbing? This game is actual hell."
Cold water basin. Yes. She splashed her burning face, muttering curses. "Stupid demonic biology. Stupid sexy prince. Stupid me for picking the wrong damn herb."
A soft knock at the door. Draven's voice, low and controlled again—but strained. "Wife. Explain this… heat."
Elara froze. Through the door, she heard him shift, like he was leaning against it too.
She glanced down at her gown. The elaborate folds had hidden pockets—villainess perks. Her fingers brushed something small and cold. Another vial. This one labeled faintly in fancy script: Nightshade Essence.
Real poison.
Her eyes widened. The original Elara was prepared.
The system flickered:
[Hidden Side Quest Unlocked: True Poison Discovered.
Use it? Or risk everything by playing nice?
Choice affects route dramatically.]
Elara stared at the vial, then at the door where her murderous ex—now demonic husband—waited on the other side.
A slow, wicked grin spread across her face.
Game on.