The blood had barely dried on her hands when the sky darkened.
It wasn't the clouds. It was him.
A shadow bled across the horizon, vast and suffocating. Trees bent, birds fell silent, even the insects dared not stir. The air thickened, heavy with qi so violent it prickled her skin raw.
Her stomach plummeted.
She knew this presence. She'd read enough chapters to recognize it without seeing him. The villain. Her supposed husband. The man the world would one day call the Crimson Monarch.
And he was coming for her.
The sword thrummed against her palm, voice sharp with something she hadn't heard before: anticipation. "Ah. At last. My jailer approaches."
Her throat tightened. "He'll kill me."
"If you disappoint him. Or amuse him. Or simply if the mood strikes," the sword replied dryly. "You did marry him, after all."
She cursed under her breath. She didn't remember saying yes.
The Crimson Monarch
He arrived without footsteps. One moment the clearing was empty; the next, he stood there.
Tall, draped in crimson robes darker than fresh blood, his black hair loose and glinting like obsidian. His face was beautiful in the way a blade is beautiful—sharp, cruel, and meant to cut. His eyes burned like banked coals, unblinking, fixed on her.
For a moment, she forgot how to breathe.
Then his gaze dropped to the sword in her hand.
The air grew colder.
"You," he said, voice smooth as silk and twice as suffocating. "Why aren't you ash?"
She swallowed hard, forcing her shaking legs to hold her weight. "Maybe I don't burn easy."
His lips curved—amusement, faint and deadly. "Su Danyan. You were meant to die as my offering. Instead, you dare hold him?"
He stepped closer. She resisted the urge to retreat, though every instinct screamed at her to run.
The cursed sword pulsed, heat radiating up her arm. Its voice slithered through her skull: "Do you feel it? He fears me. Even after binding me, he fears."
If that was true, it was the only advantage she had.
She lifted her chin. "I guess fate had other plans."
His eyes narrowed. "Fate is mine to command."
The Bargain of a Bride
For a moment, they simply stared at each other—the villain, cold and commanding, and her, trembling but unwilling to kneel.
Finally, he smiled. It wasn't kind.
"Very well. If you will not die, then you will live."
Her breath caught.
"As my bride," he continued, silk laced with iron. "Not a sacrifice. Not a pawn. Mine."
The sword's laughter roared in her mind. "How amusing. He thinks you belong to him."
She forced her face blank, though her heart hammered. In the novel, Su Danyan never had this chance—she died before ever being claimed like this. This was already off-script. Dangerous, unpredictable.
But also… survivable.
She bowed her head just enough to look submissive. "As you command, husband."
The word tasted like ash on her tongue.
Bound by Two Masters
His gaze lingered, sharp as a knife testing for weakness. Then he reached for her hand.
When his fingers closed around hers, the sword flared in protest, crimson veins blazing brighter along its black edge. Pain shot through her arm, hot and electric, as if her very soul resisted being shared.
She bit back a gasp.
The villain's eyes flickered. Then he laughed softly. "So. He rejects me still."
He leaned close, his breath brushing her ear. "That makes you interesting, little bride. Let us see how long you last."
And with a flick of his sleeve, the world blurred.
The Crimson Palace
When her vision cleared, she was standing in a vast hall carved of black stone veined with gold. Lanterns glowed with ghostly flame, casting shadows across towering pillars. At the far end, a throne waited—massive, cruelly elegant, draped in crimson banners.
The Crimson Palace. His lair.
Her knees nearly buckled. She was in the lion's den now.
He strode to his throne and sat, robes pooling like spilled blood. His gaze pinned her where she stood, unblinking.
"You will remain here," he said. "You will learn obedience. And when I decide you are worthy, you will be mine in truth."
The sword hissed in her mind, venomous. "Never."
She tightened her grip, forcing a smile that trembled at the edges. "Of course, husband."
But inside, her thoughts churned like a storm.
The novel had no map for this. No chapter she could rely on. She was alone in uncharted pages—between a villain who claimed her and a cursed sword that mocked her—and somehow, she had to survive them both.