After wiping his body, the subordinates carefully laid Leon on the bed and began their massage. Their fingers moved with a nimbleness that seemed almost casual, unintentionally sweeping away the exhaustion from his body. Yet with each press, each knead, a more complex tide of emotions arose within him. Every motion felt like an indelible mark etched into his very being, leaving behind a disquieting resonance.
Leon’s pallor grew starker by the moment. The subordinates, far from hurrying, seemed intent on drawing out the experience. Their hands roamed over his back, shoulders, and arms, applying just the right amount of pressure to relieve his tension. Yet this precise care carried with it an undeniable undercurrent of humiliation, heightened by the fact that he was utterly exposed, devoid of even the faintest shred of dignity. When the massage finally concluded, their work was far from over. They moved on to grooming him meticulously—polishing his nails, styling his hair, and carefully applying makeup. Every detail was scrutinized, every imperfection erased with obsessive precision. When Leon caught sight of himself in the mirror, he could barely meet his own gaze. His reflection was foreign, shameful, and bewildered. Stripped of any semblance of privacy or self-determination, he could only listen in growing despair as they started to discuss him like an object. “Oh my, doesn’t he look just like a girl?” one voice remarked softly, tinged with amazement. “So alluring… no wonder Prince Jasper picked him,” another added with a sly chuckle. “I’d wager Prince Jasper’s wild side will come out tonight,” a third voice murmured, deeper, carrying a note of derision. “I bet he won’t be leaving bed tomorrow morning,” the final comment landed with the weight of a hammer, shattering any fragile composure Leon still clung to. Shame coursed through him in waves, mingling with a deep helplessness. Even lowering his head in protest was beyond him; his body refused his commands, leaving him at their mercy. At last, they dressed him, though the reprieve offered by clothing was fleeting. Caelum’s choice of attire was a bitter mockery—a wedding suit, but one crafted from soft pink fabric with almost delicate femininity. Its refined texture and subtle elegance seemed designed to rob him of even the smallest comfort. Leon stared at his reflection in the mirror. Behind him, the subordinates murmured their approval, admiring their work. But he felt only resignation, the crushing weight of inevitability. This was a fate he could neither change nor escape. When they finally carried him outside the wedding venue, he caught a glimpse of the scene within. The sight was chilling. The room was draped in dark, oppressive decorations as if shrouded in shadow. This was no grand celebration of union but something more sinister, an unsettling ritual disguised as a ceremony. There were no vibrant flowers, no jubilant laughter—only an air of heaviness that hung like a pall. The few guests present stood silent, heads bowed, their faces unreadable as they stared ahead. The chill in the atmosphere seeped into Leon’s very core. His body trembled—not from cold, but from the crushing realization that he was powerless in the face of what was to come. Leon's body remained wholly outside his control. His hands and feet moved as if guided by invisible strings, carrying him step by reluctant step into the wedding venue. The dim, shifting light blurred his vision, yet he could still make out a figure standing ahead—a commanding presence like a sovereign cloaked in the night, the man exuded an aura that was both chilling and captivating. Jasper. He stood there, a dark silhouette of poise and authority, his black wedding suit seamlessly blending with the shadows that enveloped him. His expression carried a quiet gentleness, tempered by an enigmatic depth that hinted at unspoken truths. A faint smile graced his lips, projecting an almost comforting warmth, though it did little to pierce the cold that gripped Leon’s heart. Leon’s gaze swept across the room, pausing briefly on another figure—Morgana. She stood off to the side, her attire far more different from the usual, though in a good way, yet failing to conceal the innate chill of her demeanor. Her every gesture, every glance, was laced with an icy detachment that seemed to echo through the hall. Seated in the position of honor was another woman, elegant and composed. Her beauty was undeniable, but her eyes told a different story. They gleamed with a venomous sharpness, the look of a predator observing its prey. Leon couldn’t shake the fear her mere presence instilled. Was this the Lady Lisa Morgana had spoken of? The name that had been whispered with foreboding now stood before him, a living embodiment of calculated menace. As Leon was positioned beside Jasper, Caelum rose to officiate the ceremony. “Today, we gather to witness a union of unparalleled beauty and romance,” Caelum announced, his words heavy with formality. Each syllable seemed to fall like a weight onto Leon’s chest, sinking him deeper into the abyss of his helplessness. Questions and despair churned within Leon’s mind. “Was this truly his fate? Was his entire future being decided here and now, without his consent?” Even his own body betrayed him, moving in lockstep with the ceremony’s demands. He wanted to resist, to cry out against this injustice, but his strength was as absent as his agency. Jasper turned toward him, his voice soft, yet strikingly assured. “Leon,” he said, the tone carrying a sincerity that felt almost disarming. “I promise you; I’ll give you a life of happiness. Though our journey may not have begun the way it should, I believe that, in time, you’ll feel the truth of my devotion.” The words, spoken with care, were intended to soothe. Yet Leon felt no comfort, no reprieve from the storm raging within him. He stared at Jasper—a man who was little more than a stranger. Beyond his name, Leon knew nothing of this person standing beside him, nor of the bond they were now meant to share. What did this union mean? What future awaited him in the shadow of its implications? As these thoughts spiraled through his mind, the air in the room suddenly shifted. The uneasy quiet was broken by the arrival of an unexpected figure. This intruder said nothing but commanded the attention of everyone present. His movements, deliberate and self-assured, disrupted the ceremony’s oppressive rhythm. Every eye turned toward him, and the room seemed to collectively hold its breath. The man strode into the room wearing a perfectly tailored dark gray suit that accentuated his tall and muscular frame. Standing at an imposing 185 cm, he exuded a presence that was hard to ignore. His broad shoulders and athletic build commanded attention, leaving an air of dominance in his wake. If Jasper embodied the refined elegance of a Noble Son, this man was the very essence of a Domineering CEO —a ruler whose aura radiated authority and an unshakable sense of control. In his hand, he idly toyed with a silver ring, his long, well-defined fingers turning it with a calm precision that felt subtly menacing. His gaze landed on Leon with an intensity that was both captivating and suffocating. Each step he took was measured and deliberate, carrying an effortless arrogance as though the world itself danced to his rhythm. Trailing behind him was a middle-aged man in a crisp suit, his expression neutral yet tinged with professional aloofness. Every movement of this companion radiated efficiency and poise. Their sudden arrival seemed to freeze the atmosphere, silencing the room as an undercurrent of tension swept over the guests. “Prince Aric.” Jasper’s voice was steady, but the simmering anger beneath his calm tone was unmistakable. His eyes narrowed slightly, the gentle facade he had worn moments earlier now slipping away. “What an unexpected honor to have you grace my wedding.” Aric didn’t slow his stride, continuing his approach until he was mere steps from Leon. His lips curved into a faint, almost lazy smile, the kind that promised both amusement and danger. “A wedding?” His voice was smooth, tinged with a sardonic edge. “Strange… I must have missed the part where it looked like one.” The remark, spoken with casual ease, struck like a blade, slicing through the brittle pretense of the ceremony’s tranquility. Lady Lisa’s expression darkened. The sharpness in her voice cut through the tension. “You’re going too far, Aric!” Aric halted, turning his head just enough to glance her way, his smile remaining infuriatingly unshaken. “Too far? A father uninvited to his son’s wedding? And you expect me to stay quiet while only the mother presides?” His voice was calm, devoid of any overt emotion, yet it carried a force that demanded deference. Morgana stepped forward, positioning herself behind Lisa. “Prince Aric, we did inform His Majesty. But, as you surely understand, His Majesty has far more pressing matters. It was agreed that Lady Lisa would officiate in his Majesty’s stead.” Lisa followed suit with a derisive snort, eager to regain control. “Precisely. And regardless of His Majesty’s absence, Jasper has already received His Majesty’s blessing.” Aric’s smile deepened, his amusement only growing more evident as he closed the final distance between himself and Leon. He stopped beside him and, with an ease that was as unsettling as it was confident, draped his elbow across Leon’s shoulder. The gesture seemed casual, even friendly, but the oppressive weight of his presence was inescapable. “Blessing?” Aric’s gaze dropped lazily to Leon, his tone light, almost mocking. “What kind of blessing? Perhaps one wishing that this… partner of yours won’t be mistreated by you in the future?”
