Lyssandra's room—gray sky, heavy silence

  The dress seemed to breathe. As if it were calling me.

  I picked it up delicately with my hands. The velvet was almost unreal in its softness, contrasting with the silver embroidery that snaked across it like cursed veins. It had been made for me. Tailored to my body, my curves, and my hips. It was... unsettling.

  I undressed slowly, shivering at the touch of the cool air on my bare skin. Why am I nervous? There's no one here. Just me... and this dress.

  I slid the fabric against my chest, then over my stomach, my waist, and my thighs. The sensation was strange. Sensual. As if every fiber remembered me.

  The bodice hugged my waist with almost insolent precision, emphasizing my figure without suffocating it. The sleeves left my shoulders bare, while the neckline, sculpted with perverse elegance, revealed without showing too much.

  A thin line ran down my spine, emphasizing my neck. The delicate silver embroidery formed abstract patterns reminiscent of ancient runes—mysterious and hypnotic. The fabric, fluid and dense, seemed to glide over my skin like a forbidden whisper.

  I looked at myself in the mirror.

  A shiver ran through me.

  It wasn't me I saw.

  Or rather... it was a version of Lyssandra she had never dared to show. A dark Lyssandra. Proud. Desirable. Unapproachable.

  I put one hand on my hip.

  “Kael...” I whispered.

  It wasn't a court dress. It was a statement. A provocation.

  And he knew exactly what he was doing.

  I stepped forward in front of the mirror, barefoot on the cool stone.

  The dress didn't just clothe me. It displayed me.

  Like a banner of war.

  A shiver ran through me. Not from the cold. From anticipation.

  I slowly removed the dress, placing it on the bed like a treasure.

  I got dressed and left the room.

  Dining room—under the echo of distant thunder

  The sky rumbled above Dravenwald Manor, even though it wasn't raining. The thick curtains couldn't muffle the rumblings.

  Kael was already seated, a glass of red wine in front of him. He didn't look up when I crossed the threshold.

  I sat down slowly, my eyes fixed on him.

  “It suited you,” he said without preamble.

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “I didn't say a word.”

  He put down his glass and stared at me with his red, unwavering eyes.

  “I don't need you to speak to see how you feel. You walked into your room as if you were already wearing a blade at your side.”

  I pressed my lips together.

  “It's not a dress for a simple ball. You know that.”

  “I know, yes. And this isn't a simple ball.”

  I sat up slightly, alert.

  “So? Tell me. Why make me wear this? Do you want me to provoke them? To be a target?”

  Kael cut his meat with a sharp motion. Chop.

  “I want you to be unforgettable.”

  He looked up at me slowly.

  “The nobles who will be present only remember the masks. The appearances. They drool over silk but fear steel. Be both.”

  A silence. Then he added:

  “The ball will take place in three days. You will attend it by my side.”

  I put down my cutlery.

  “You don't intend to give me a choice, do you?”

  “Neither of us has ever had the luxury of choice, Lyssandra.”

  He stood up, picked up his glass, and gave me a softer look, almost imperceptibly.

  “Eat. You'll need it.”

  And he left the room, leaving me alone with my emotions and my questions.

  Silence fell like an icy sheet as soon as Kael left the dining room. I remained alone, facing the empty plates, the gray light filtering through the stained glass windows.

  Alone again.

  I sighed and left the room.

  My footsteps echoed in the deserted corridors of the manor. Stone walls, antique tapestries, and paintings too silent. A heavy atmosphere, laden with secrets.

  I began to wander. Room after room, I discovered another facet of this austere residence, almost forgotten by time.

  No matter how much I lost myself in the details—the fine carvings on a piece of furniture, the symbols embroidered on tapestries, the portraits of dead ancestors—my thoughts were never far away.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Kael didn't tell me everything. I'm sure of it.

  He's hiding something from me. It wasn't just a ball. Not just a dress. Not just another rumor to spread.

  And despite all this tension... despite the coldness he cultivates, despite the mystery and weight of his gaze... I haven't forgotten my primary mission.

  Seduction.

  Not on a whim. Not for pleasure.

  But to survive.

  To avoid dying as in the original story.

  Because if I stick to the story I know... Kael Dravenwald is destined to die.

  A traitor to the Kingdom.

  Cold, cruel, and ruthless.

  Killed by the hero himself, a brief death, almost secondary in the flow of events.

  And me?

  A barely mentioned figure, a forgotten name.

  Just a lonely grave, lost in the garden of an abandoned house.

  Lyssandra Dravenwald.

  Date of birth.

  Date of death.

  Nothing else.

  Even the secondary characters say almost nothing about her.

  Kael is mentioned only for his atrocities.

  Fragments of sentences. Rumors.

  “He burned down the eastern prisons with the prisoners still inside.”

  “He slit a nobleman's throat in front of his own children.”

  “He had a blank stare, like a caged animal.”

  And yet... no explanation.

  No trace of what led him to do all that.

  His past? His connection to the king? To my death?

  Nothing.

  I stopped in front of a tall window.

  Outside, the storm still raged. Clouds rolled over the hills like black beasts.

  Why would a man like him, who was clearly loyal to the throne today, turn against the Empire? Why become the villain? And above all... why hide all this from the main story?

  I sighed.

  Maybe some villains are meant to be hated, without us trying to understand them.

  And maybe others... become what they are forced to be.

  I had a few theories—dark, flawed, twisted—but nothing that really made sense. Not yet.

  I shook my head, annoyed.

  Raaaah! I have to stop torturing myself like this!

  I reminded myself of my priorities.

  Survive.

  Seduce.

  Stay alive.

  Even if it meant dancing on the edge of a precipice.

  I returned to my room.

  It was completely silent, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath.

  I let myself fall onto the bed, burying my head in the sheets, my thoughts confused.

  Kael.

  The ball.

  The king.

  The secrets.

  And me... caught in the middle of this web that I still didn't fully understand.

  But I would tear it apart eventually.

  Strangely, I still felt tired, so I put on my nightgown and lay down on my bed.

  As I closed my eyes for a moment, a faint noise pulled me out of my daze.

  Creak.

  A crackling sound. Light, almost too light, but enough to make me jump.

  I sat up slowly. The satin of my nightgown slid over my skin with an almost obscene shiver.

  Rustle.

  I thought it was Kael. My heart raced, and I didn't know if it was out of fear... or desire.

  I placed my bare foot on the frozen floor.

  Tap.

  The bite of the cold made me shiver slightly. The thin, barely opaque nightgown clung to my bare thighs, sliding between my legs with each step like an insolent breath.

  I pushed open the door.

  Click... Creak.

  The hallway was empty. Silent. Too silent.

  A draft caressed my thighs. I shivered.

  Whoosh.

  “Don't tell me there are ghosts... or worse... an intruder,” I whispered, forcing a nervous smile.

  I walked out slowly. The floorboards creaked under my feet.

  Creak... Tap... Tap.

  My breath mingled with the stifling, almost clammy atmosphere of the hallway. The air seemed suspended, heavy with something I couldn't quite name.

  The silence was not empty. It was watching me.

  I went down the stairs.

  Creak... Creak...

  Each step made the old wood creak, and my ghostly silhouette was reflected in the dark windows. The fabric of my nightgown rode up slightly, brushing the bottom of my buttocks.

  Rustle...

  I could have sworn I felt eyes on me. Invisible hands slid across my bare skin. My breathing became shorter. Deeper.

  The living room. Empty.

  The fire crackled softly in the hearth.

  Crackle... Pop.

  The red light danced on the walls, like hesitant hands.

  I crossed the hallway.

  Tap... Tap...

  The guest rooms. No one.

  I was truly alone.

  I sat down on the steps in front of the entrance. My chest rose slowly, my legs pressed together. It wasn't fear... it was something else. Anticipation. Longing. The excitement of emptiness.

  Without realizing it, I fell asleep there, in that indecent position, my head against the railing, one thigh bare, exposed to the shadows.

  A few hours later.

  Whoosh...

  The large door of the mansion opened quietly.

  Creak... Clack.

  Kael entered. His boots barely made a sound.

  Tap... Tap.

  He stopped a few steps away from her. Watching her. His throat tightened a little. She slept like that, vulnerable, a sliver of light tracing the curve of her thighs and the swell of her breasts beneath the smooth silk.

  He approached. Leaned over.

  Rustle.

  Lifted a dark strand of hair from her forehead. She looked so peaceful. So beautiful.

  He brushed her cheek with his fingertips.

  Slide.

  She moaned softly in her sleep.

  Nnh...

  Then, gently, he lifted her up against him, his strong arms around her.

  Swoosh.

  His lips brushed the young woman's ear with a warm breath.

  “You'll catch cold, you reckless thing...”

  And he carried her up the stairs, her nightgown slightly hiked up, her bare legs against his chest.

  Creak... Creak...

  His steps were slow. As if he were savoring the contact. The weight of her body against his. The temptation of a forbidden act not yet broken.