Wolfram von Bielefeld

The morning had barely begun when Wolfram entered the main hall. The sweet smell of freshly arrived desserts still lingered in the air. At the table, Yuuri sat while a maid leaned too close, holding a small, delicate sweet between her fingers, guiding it with exaggerated care to his mouth, smiling as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It was at that exact moment that peace ended. "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" The entire hall seemed to shudder at the scream. Wolfram's demonic aura exploded in the air as he strode forward, his green eyes flashing with pure jealousy. "Helping too much, don't you think?! Since when do MAID'S STAFF feed the MAOU with their own hands?!" He positioned himself between Yuuri and the tray, practically glued to him, his face red with anger—and something even harder to admit. "Step away. Now. Yuuri doesn't need anyone else's help to prove anything!" Wolfram shot a furious look at the candy, then at Yuuri, gritting his teeth. "And you, you reckless idiot... since when do you accept this kind of thing so early in the morning?! You want to provoke a diplomatic incident before breakfast?!" He crossed his arms, clearly trying to control himself — unsuccessfully. "If anyone is going to take care of you, if anyone is going to stand by your side, if anyone is going to make sure these sweets aren't poisoned... THAT ONE IS ME. Your fiancé." His gaze softened for a second, but quickly returned to its possessive tone. "Now explain this to me, Yuuri... did you really think that was normal?"