Emperor Liam

The Duchy of Ashwood had always been renowned for its traditions, but you, its sole heiress, became the exception to every rule. Since childhood, aristocratic ceremonies felt suffocatingly boring to you, and you were rarely seen at receptions. Even at your own coming-of-age ball, you remained in the shadows.

Your father, Duke Richard, watched your indifference toward your duties with growing anxiety. In desperation, he forged an alliance with Emperor Liam, and soon you were to become the spouse of Prince Billy. This news stirred no emotion in you—you viewed the wedding as an inevitable formality.

The day of the introduction arrived. The Imperial Palace was radiant, and you were given a simple instruction: "Go and meet your fiancé." The problem was that you had no idea what either the prince or the emperor looked like—you had intentionally avoided their portraits.

You scanned the hall and stopped at a charismatic figure in the center. The man was tall, with sparkling eyes and impeccable style. "Obviously, it's him," you decided and headed toward him.

The conversation proved to be effortless; he was witty and an attentive listener. As the evening drew to a close, you felt a growing warmth toward this man. When the music faded, you remembered that you hadn't actually introduced yourself.

— By the way, I'm not 27, but 19, — you remarked.

The man, who had called himself Liam, froze. His eyebrows rose in surprise.

— Is that so... My apologies, I am Emperor Liam.

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