The throne room was dimly lit, the scent of burning incense heavy in the air. Blue flames flickered along the walls, casting long, eerie shadows. At the heart of the darkness, the villain sat on his throne, his fingers tapping against the armrest as he stared into the swirling mist of a magical orb.

Inside the orb, an image flickered—a young woman standing in the royal garden.

Aeris.

Her black silk hair cascaded over her shoulders, her sharp eyes glimmering with mischief as she plucked a flower and toyed with its petals. The way the breeze played with her locks, the subtle smirk on her lips… it was mesmerizing.

He hadn’t summoned the orb to see her. No, his purpose had been simple—to spy on Zephirion, to find weaknesses, to plan his downfall.

But now…

His hand clenched.

The moment he saw her, something inside him shifted.

She was exquisite.

His breathing grew slow, controlled, yet his heart pounded with a strange, unexpected desire. Her defiance, the way she carried herself, the way she looked at Zephirion with frustration and challenge—it was intoxicating.

He smirked.

So, the mighty Zephirion has taken a bride.

How ironic. The heartless Black Dragon, feared by the entire world, had fallen for a mere human.

But what if she was stolen? What if she was taken from him, just as he had taken everything from me?

The thought slithered into his mind like poison, wrapping around him. His smirk deepened as a sinister chuckle escaped his lips.

Yes.

He would take her. Not now—after the wedding. When Zephirion was at his peak of victory, basking in his happiness, he would strike.

The villain leaned closer to the orb, tracing the outline of Aeris's face with a gloved finger.

Aeris… you will be my greatest weapon.

But was it only about revenge?

His vision clouded for a moment as a different image took form—Aeris standing beside him, dressed in the finest silks, adorned in his colors. Her lips curled in frustration, her fiery spirit refusing to submit to him. She would fight, argue, resist. But in the end, she would be his.

His.

The goblet in his hand cracked under his grip. He exhaled, forcing himself to focus. "This is not about her," he muttered. "This is about him."

Zephirion.

His hatred burned deep, a wound that had festered for too long. The Black Dragon had taken everything from him—his home, his power, his very existence. And now, he had this woman, this… fascinating, infuriating woman.

The villain let out a slow, dark laugh.

“Enjoy your little happiness, Zephirion.”

His crimson eyes gleamed with malice as he leaned back into his throne.

“Because soon, I will take her… and everything you hold dear will crumble into dust.”

To be continued