The next day, the maids bustled around Akari for over an hour, eagerly trying different dresses and hairstyles on her. They giggled and whispered as if she were a doll, their excitement uncontainable. Her long white hair and striking blue eyes made every color seem like it was crafted for her.
Meanwhile, Kuro waited outside, pacing impatiently. "Why do women take hours to get ready?" he mumbled under his breath, arms crossed.
The door opened just as he finished complaining, and Akari stepped out, her expression half-annoyed, half-resigned. "It's not my fault you couldn't decide which look I should go with," she shot back, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face.
Kuro raised an eyebrow, scanning her critically. "Hmm… black suits you. Final choice: black." He leaned back smugly, as if he'd just made the decision of the century.
Akari sighed, glaring at him for a moment. "And now I can't even choose my own clothes. Damn," she muttered under her breath, trying to keep her frustration in check.
Kuro smirked, his sharp ears catching her words. "I can hear you, you know," he said, stepping closer with a playful but commanding air.
Akari straightened, rolling her eyes slightly. "Okay, okay, forgive me, Your Majesty," she said with mock formality, giving him a half-hearted bow.
The smile faded from her face as her thoughts wandered. She wasn't here because she wanted to be—this wasn't her choice. She was only doing this because of the guilt gnawing at her, the unbearable feeling that her existence had twisted his life into what it was now. She didn't love him, but the weight of sympathy and responsibility kept her tethered to his side.
Kuro tilted his head, watching her closely. He could see the faint flicker of something behind her sarcastic words, but he chose not to comment. Instead, he let the moment hang in the air before turning. "Let's go," he said, his voice tinged with amusement. "I don't have all day, fiancée."
Akari followed, biting back another sarcastic remark. This was her life now, like it or not.
As they walked outside, Kuro glanced at Akari from the corner of his eye, his voice low but laced with a hint of jealousy. "I have a question. You always look at me with sympathy or guilt, but whenever you talk about the other Kuro—the ones from before—your eyes light up like stars. It's like you were in love with them. Is it true, or am I just being delusional?"
Akari's steps faltered for a moment, her expression caught between surprise and unease. "It's not like that," she replied hastily.
Kuro smirked knowingly. "Lie. You know I hate it when you lie. Your eyes blink twice when you do."
Akari raised an eyebrow, trying to deflect. "And when did you notice that?"
Kuro's grin widened as he stepped closer, his voice quieter but sharper. "So it was a lie."
Letting out a resigned sigh, Akari stopped walking and crossed her arms. "Fine, yes. I loved them." Her voice softened, tinged with sadness and guilt. "Kuro from the first turn had a crush on me when we were around 14 or 15. But I ignored it back then—my womanly seven senses told me if I accepted, it would only lead to misery."
Kuro's jealousy flared slightly as his jaw tightened, but he didn't interrupt.
Akari continued, her tone shifting to a mix of fondness and pain. "I ended up falling for Arnold instead, but he died... and I had to marry Kuro for the sake of the crown and stabilizing the country. At first, it was all duty. We co-parented Kuri, the dragon—you remember I told you about her, right?"
Kuro nodded slightly, his lips pressed into a thin line.
"And then," Akari said, her voice breaking just a little, "after years of trying to keep things just formal, I finally admitted to him that I loved him too. It was a bittersweet happiness, but the very next day, he died."
Kuro's brows furrowed, jealousy mixing with an uncomfortable pang of pity.
"In the second life," Akari went on, her voice laced with bitter sarcasm now, "I told myself I wouldn't open my heart to either Kuro or Arnold. But those doofuses—those stubborn boys—fell for me all over again. And of course, neither of them married anyone else, right till the bitter end." She let out a humorless laugh, her eyes glistening with guilt. "So, yes. I loved them both, in different ways, and I guess I'm to blame for their misery too."
Kuro remained silent for a moment, his voice quieter when he finally spoke. "So... you and I were married once." There was no sarcasm this time, just a mix of wonder and envy he couldn't quite hide.
Akari glanced at him, her expression conflicted. "Yeah," she said simply, the weight of her past lives pressing down on her again. "But it doesn't mean much now, does it?"
Kuro's eyes flickered with something unreadable before he looked away, his hands clenching for just a moment. "Maybe not. But it still stings, knowing that version of me got what I never will."
As they settled into the carriage, Kuro leaned back lazily, his arm resting on the edge of the seat as the wheels began to turn. Outside, the streets buzzed with life. Akari gazed out at the bustling towns and villages, her thoughts a mix of tension and guilt.
Kuro's piercing eyes never left her, though, and after a while, he broke the silence. "Strange, isn't it?" he said, his tone casual but sharp. "You always act so concerned about the people, but it's not like I've harmed the common folk. My blade has only found those who deserved it—or maybe those I thought deserved it."
Akari glanced at him, her expression unreadable. "And what do you think the people see when they look at you?" she asked quietly.
Kuro smirked, his gaze fixed out the window. "A ruler who protects them. Fear might fuel loyalty, but it also breeds obedience. I don't hurt those who kneel."
She turned away, her voice soft but firm. "Fear isn't the same as respect, Kuro. You might protect them now, but how long will that last before you get bored or angry?"
He let out a low chuckle, turning to face her fully. "You think I'm some sort of monster waiting to erupt, don't you? Maybe I am. But even monsters have their moments of control."
The carriage slowed as they arrived at the first stop—a small village known for its sprawling farms. Kuro stepped out first, offering his hand to Akari. She hesitated but eventually took it, stepping down gracefully.
The villagers gathered cautiously, their eyes filled with a mix of awe and trepidation. Kuro walked among them, his presence commanding yet strangely restrained. He spoke to the farmers about their crops, to the merchants about their trade, and even to the children, asking them simple questions with a tone that almost sounded kind.
Akari followed silently, observing him closely. While Kuro's words were measured and his actions calculated, there was an edge to him that never left—a quiet reminder of his darker tendencies.
As they moved to the next town, Akari couldn't help but feel a pang of confusion. He wasn't cruel to the people, not outright, but the looming shadow of his power was always there, reminding her of what he could do if pushed.
Later, as the day wore on and they visited more places, Kuro leaned toward Akari in the carriage, his voice low and teasing. "So, tell me, do you still think I'm incapable of ruling properly? Or are you impressed by my kingly demeanor?"
Akari met his gaze, her expression weary. "I think you're playing a game, Kuro. And I think you're very good at it. But games don't last forever."
He smirked, leaning back. "Ah, Akari. Always so serious. Maybe that's why you're here—to make sure I don't play too rough. Though, let's be honest—you've always been more of a chess piece than a player, haven't you?"
She looked away, the weight of her role pressing down on her. "Maybe. But even pawns can tip the board."
Kuro chuckled darkly, his eyes glittering with amusement. "Let's see if you can, then. This game is far from over."
As the carriage moved on, Akari couldn't shake the feeling that she was walking a tightrope, each step bringing her closer to an uncertain fate. Yet, for the sake of the people, she resolved to keep walking, no matter how dangerous the path became.
As the days passed, the preparations for the royal wedding were in full swing, much to Akari's dismay. The palace was abuzz with activity—maids and attendants rushed through the halls, decorators transformed the grand ballroom, and every corner of the castle seemed to hum with anticipation.
Akari, on the other hand, felt the weight of it all pressing down on her. She sat in her chambers, watching as the maids laid out gown after gown for her approval. Each one was more elaborate than the last, and though they complimented her endlessly, she could barely muster a polite nod.
"The gold embroidery suits her best, don't you think?" one maid chirped.
"No, the silver accents bring out her eyes!" another argued.
"Enough," Akari finally said, her voice sharper than she intended. The maids froze, startled. She sighed, softening her tone. "Just pick whatever you think is best. I don't care."
As they bustled away to finalize their decision, Akari leaned back, staring at the ceiling. She couldn't escape the reality of what was happening. Every step of this wedding was a reminder of the strange, twisted bond she now shared with Kuro—a bond forged in guilt, fear, and obligation.
Meanwhile, Kuro was in the throne room, idly listening to his advisors drone on about the ceremony. His mind, however, was elsewhere.
"The people are excited, Your Majesty," one advisor said. "A wedding always lifts morale, and it solidifies your position as king."
Kuro smirked faintly. "As if my position needed solidifying," he muttered under his breath.
"Did you say something, sire?" the advisor asked nervously.
"Nothing of importance. Carry on," Kuro replied, waving him off.
In truth, Kuro wasn't overly concerned with the logistics of the wedding. His focus was on Akari—her resistance, her guilt, her quiet strength. She fascinated him, and he couldn't help but enjoy watching her struggle against the inevitability of their union.
That evening, they crossed paths in the grand dining hall. Akari was quiet, as usual, poking at her food while Kuro observed her with an amused expression.
"You seem… thrilled about the upcoming ceremony," Kuro said, breaking the silence.
Akari glanced at him, her tone flat. "Overjoyed, really."
Kuro chuckled. "You hide it so well."
"Why are you even doing this, Kuro?" she asked suddenly, her voice filled with frustration. "You don't need a wedding to prove your power or control. You already have that."
He leaned forward, his gaze sharp and unyielding. "Because I can, Akari. And because you're mine. This is just making it official."
Akari's stomach churned at his words, but she bit back a retort. She knew better than to provoke him when he was in this mood.
As the days continued to pass, the pressure only grew. The people were talking, the castle was glowing with preparations, and the wedding day loomed closer. Akari felt trapped, each moment pulling her further into a fate she wasn't sure she could escape.
The wedding day finally arrived, and the atmosphere was thick with anticipation. The grand hall was adorned with elaborate decorations, bathed in the glow of countless candles. The entire palace seemed to pulse with energy, the buzz of excited whispers echoing through the corridors. But for Akari, the weight of it all felt suffocating.
Her dress was a striking black, the fabric flowing elegantly to the floor, its silver embroidery catching the light with every movement. The long sleeves and intricate patterns gave it a regal air, but to Akari, it felt like a symbol of everything she couldn't escape. As the maids helped her into the gown, she couldn't shake the unease that had settled in her chest.
"Your Majesty, you look breathtaking," one of the maids whispered, adjusting the final touches. But Akari barely heard her. Her mind was elsewhere, trapped in the turmoil of guilt, confusion, and the suffocating expectation placed on her.
Kuro, on the other hand, was practically glowing with satisfaction. He sat in his chambers, dressed in his royal attire—dark, elegant, and imposing as ever. His eyes shone with a certain cold excitement, his smirk never fading. This wedding was the final piece of the puzzle, the symbol of his reign. And Akari... she was his.
When Akari finally entered the grand hall, her presence caused a ripple of whispers. The gown suited her, that was undeniable, but it also highlighted the tension in her posture, the wariness in her eyes. She moved with calculated grace, though the unease was impossible to hide. Her gaze met Kuro's, and for a fleeting moment, she saw something in his eyes—something akin to pride, satisfaction, maybe even a touch of possessiveness.
"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice low and almost teasing.
Akari didn't respond immediately, her eyes scanning the crowd before settling back on him. "I have no choice, do I?" she said softly, almost to herself. But Kuro heard, and his lips curled upward.
"No," he replied. "You don't."
The ceremony began with the formalities of any royal wedding, the vows, the exchange of rings, and the crowd's murmurs of approval. But then came the Cloud Drink Ceremony, an old tradition that marked the union of the two rulers. In this ritual, both the bride and groom were required to drink from a chalice containing a mystical liquid, said to bind their souls and their fates together. The ritual was considered sacred, a bond unbreakable once completed.
As the chalice was brought forward, Kuro stood tall, his expression unreadable, but his eyes locked on Akari's as if to say, This is it. You're mine now.
Akari hesitated for a moment, her hand shaking slightly as she reached for the chalice. The liquid inside shimmered, glowing faintly, its power nearly palpable in the air. She couldn't escape this, couldn't stop it, no matter how much she wanted to.
Kuro, ever observant, caught the flicker of doubt in her eyes. He stepped closer, his hand resting on hers as they both lifted the chalice to their lips. "To us," he said quietly, his voice a mixture of mockery and something darker.
Akari closed her eyes, trying to block out everything but the moment. She drank, the cool liquid sliding down her throat, and for a brief moment, she felt something shift inside her. There was no going back now. Their fates were intertwined.
When the chalice was emptied, Kuro lowered it with a satisfied smile. "Now, we are truly bound," he said, his voice a soft, possessive whisper in her ear.
Akari didn't respond, her heart heavy in her chest. The ritual was over, and with it, any remaining threads of her hope to escape were severed. She had given herself to this life, whether she wanted to or not. And as she looked at Kuro, standing tall and triumphant, she couldn't help but wonder—what would become of them now?
With the Cloud Drink Ceremony completed, the sacred bond sealed, the wedding transitioned into its celebratory phase. The grand hall was filled with nobles, dignitaries, and influential figures from across the land, all gathered to honor the union of their ruler and his bride. The atmosphere was vibrant, yet for Akari, it felt heavy, almost suffocating.
Dressed in her black and silver gown, she stood beside Kuro, who exuded an aura of absolute dominance in his royal attire. His satisfaction was unmistakable, a sharp contrast to Akari's carefully masked discomfort. He greeted the guests with a smirk that bordered on a challenge, as if daring anyone to question his authority—or his choice of bride.
"Smile, my dear," Kuro said quietly, leaning slightly toward her as another noble approached. "You're the queen now. At least pretend to enjoy it."
Akari forced a small smile, her eyes meeting those of the nobleman who bowed before them. "Your Majesty, Your Grace," he said, his tone reverent. "Congratulations on this momentous occasion."
"Thank you," Akari replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside.
The evening dragged on, with Kuro effortlessly commanding the room. He played the part of the gracious host, though his sharp gaze never strayed far from Akari. Occasionally, he would lean down to whisper something sarcastic or teasing, reveling in the power dynamic between them.
"You're quite the actress," he said during a lull in the conversation. "No one would guess you'd rather be anywhere else but here."
"Maybe because I don't have a choice," Akari replied, her voice low but firm, her eyes fixed ahead.
Kuro chuckled softly, raising a glass in acknowledgment of a toast being made in their honor. "And yet, you play the role so well. I might even start believing you enjoy my company."
As the evening continued, Akari found moments to subtly observe the guests. Among them were citizens she had helped in secret, their faces familiar but their expressions unreadable. Did they recognize her? Did they see the tension in her posture, the struggle in her eyes?
Kuro noticed her distraction and leaned in once more. "Thinking about your little heroics?" he asked, his tone amused. "Don't worry. I won't expose your secrets—yet."
Akari glanced at him, her expression neutral. "You're enjoying this too much."
"Of course I am," Kuro replied, his smirk widening. "This is exactly as it should be."
The night wore on, the weight of her new reality settling more heavily on Akari's shoulders with every passing moment. The grandeur, the applause, the false smiles—it all felt like a gilded cage. And yet, she knew she couldn't show weakness, not here, not now.
As they prepared to leave the hall, Kuro extended his arm, a mockery of chivalry. "Shall we, my queen?" he said, his voice dripping with irony.
Akari hesitated for the briefest of moments before placing her hand on his arm. "Lead the way, Your Majesty," she said softly, her tone unreadable.
And together, they exited the hall, the cheers of the crowd following them, a stark contrast to the silence that hung between them as they walked away from the spectacle, each lost in their own thoughts about what the future might hold.
As they stepped outside into the moonlit courtyard, a sudden, sharp pain pierced through both Akari and Kuro's chests. Akari staggered, clutching at her chest, her breath shallow and uneven.
"What... is happening?" she gasped, her vision swimming.
Kuro's hand instinctively went to his side, his lips curling into a grimace as he doubled over slightly. "We've been poisoned," he growled, his voice strained but laced with fury.
Akari steadied herself, pushing past the pain as her hands glowed faintly. "I can heal you," she said, moving closer to him despite her own weakness.
Before she could act, a cold voice echoed behind them, stopping her in her tracks. "Don't bother. It's already too late."
Both turned to see Arnold stepping out of the shadows, his expression cold and unrelenting. His once noble demeanor was now hardened by vengeance, his eyes burning with anger and satisfaction.
"You," Kuro spat, blood dripping from his lips as he straightened slightly, his hand tightening into a fist despite his weakening body.
Arnold smirked, his gaze shifting between the two of them. "How's the suffering, Your Majesty?" he asked mockingly, his voice dripping with disdain.
"Good," Kuro replied through clenched teeth, forcing a twisted smile even as blood continued to seep from his mouth. "You'll need more than this to kill me."
Akari, still reeling from the pain, turned her wide eyes to Arnold. "Why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice trembling.
Arnold's expression darkened, his smile fading into a look of cold resolve. "For my family. For my sister. For every innocent life this tyrant has taken." His voice cracked slightly as he stepped closer. "And you… I thought you were one of us, but you've stood by his side, helping him."
"I never—" Akari began, but Arnold cut her off.
"Save it," he snapped. "You've made your choice. Now live—or die—with it."
Kuro stumbled but steadied himself against a pillar, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "You think this ends with me?" he said, his voice low and threatening despite his weakening state. "You're nothing but a pawn in a bigger game."
Arnold's smirk returned, but it was colder this time. "Perhaps. But tonight, the game changes."
Akari reached out toward Arnold, her expression desperate. "Arnold, please! This isn't the way—"
"Enough!" Arnold shouted, his voice filled with anguish. "You don't get to plead innocence anymore, Akari. Not after everything."
As the tension reached its peak, Kuro swayed but managed to straighten himself again, his smirk defiant. "You should have finished me off when you had the chance," he said, his voice a venomous whisper. "Because when I recover… I'll make you regret this."
Arnold clenched his fists, his anger boiling over. "You won't recover. Not this time."
Akari stood frozen, caught between the two men—the one she felt responsible for and the one who had every reason to hate them both.
As Kuro and Akari stumbled out of the hall, both clutching their chests, a sharp pain coursed through them.
"What is happening?" Akari asked, her voice strained with panic.
"We're poisoned," Kuro muttered, his breathing uneven, blood trickling from his lips.
Akari's hands glowed faintly as she stepped closer to him. "I can heal you. Don't underestimate my powers."
Before Kuro could respond, a mocking voice cut through the tense atmosphere.
"So, how is the suffering, my king?"
Arnold emerged from the shadows, his sword drawn, his eyes cold with vengeance.
Kuro coughed, blood splattering the ground, but his lips curled into a smirk. "Good. It's entertaining. What do you want, Arnold? To lecture me before you finish me off?"
Arnold's smirk deepened. "No, I don't care for words anymore. It's time you paid for everything you've done."
"How dramatic," Kuro replied, his voice laced with sarcasm, though his stance was steady, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword.
"Kuro," Akari interjected, stepping between them. "You're poisoned! You're in no state to fight. Let me heal you first—"
Kuro silenced her with a glare. "Stay out of this, Akari. This isn't your fight."
"But—"
"No," Kuro snapped, his voice firm. He turned his gaze to Arnold, drawing his sword. "Let's end this, Arnold."
Arnold's expression darkened. "Fine by me."
The clash of steel rang out as their swords met, sparks flying from the intensity of their blows. Despite the poison weakening him, Kuro fought with precision and ferocity, each strike calculated. Arnold matched him, his attacks fueled by years of hatred and revenge.
"You've destroyed everything, Kuro," Arnold spat, his voice trembling with anger. "Your greed, your tyranny—you don't deserve to live!"
Kuro deflected a blow with a sharp laugh, though blood dripped from his mouth. "And you think you do? What have you accomplished, Arnold? Besides whining about me?"
Arnold growled, his blade narrowly missing Kuro's side as the two continued their deadly dance.
Akari stood frozen, her heart pounding as she watched them. The pain in her chest, the blood staining the ground—she couldn't take it anymore.
"Stop it!" she screamed, stepping forward, her voice trembling with desperation. "You're both going to die! This is madness!"
"Akari," Kuro barked without looking at her, his voice commanding. "I said don't interfere."
Arnold's blade sliced through the air, barely grazing Kuro's arm. Kuro retaliated swiftly, driving Arnold back with a fierce counterattack.
"Still standing, Kuro?" Arnold taunted, though his breaths were heavy. "Impressive for a dead man walking."
Kuro smirked, blood staining his teeth. "You talk too much. That's always been your problem."
Their swords clashed again, the sound reverberating through the air. Each strike was more desperate than the last, the poison slowly draining Kuro's strength.
"Enough!" Akari shouted again, her voice breaking. Tears streamed down her face as she watched the two men fight, their hatred blinding them to the destruction they were causing—not just to each other, but to everything around them.
As Kuro and Arnold's swords clashed in a violent flurry, the air thick with tension, Akari watched helplessly, her heart pounding. Every strike Kuro made, each parry, was becoming weaker, slower. The poison was draining him, but he refused to stop, as if he wanted to die at Arnold's hands, his own form of atonement.
"Don't interfere, Akari," Kuro grunted through gritted teeth as Arnold pressed harder with his sword, forcing Kuro back. "Let him have his fun. I deserve this."
Akari stood frozen, torn between wanting to help him and respecting his wish. She could feel the poison coursing through his veins, the same pain that was slowly claiming him.
"I won't let you die!" she shouted, stepping forward, but Kuro's glare stopped her in her tracks.
"Don't!" he yelled, his voice cracking. "I've already done too much. Just let it end."
Arnold swung his sword with deadly precision, but Kuro parried it with a lack of strength, barely managing to keep his footing. He could feel the life slipping from him, and with it, all his regrets. He stopped fighting, his sword lowering as he knelt before Arnold. The poison was taking hold, his vision blurring.
"Sorry, Akari..." Kuro whispered, his voice filled with exhaustion and sorrow. "I've failed. I... failed you."
Arnold hesitated, watching Kuro kneel before him, his posture broken, his arrogance gone. For a moment, even Arnold was struck with the weight of Kuro's confession.
"You're giving up?" Arnold's voice was a mix of disbelief and contempt. "After everything you've done, now you want to surrender?"
"I've lost everything. I'm not worth saving anymore," Kuro said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry for dragging you all into this."
Akari knelt beside Kuro, tears streaming down her face. "I don't care about what you've done. You're not a monster to me. I won't let you give up!"
Kuro met her eyes one last time, a faint, sad smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You're too kind, Akari. But it's too late for me."
Akari placed her hands on Kuro's chest, her healing abilities surging through him, but it felt like it was too little, too late. The poison was deep, and it wasn't just the poison killing him. It was his own guilt, his own broken heart.
"Please, don't give up on me," Akari whispered, desperate.
But Kuro's body trembled, his eyes closing as he surrendered to the inevitable. His last words were a soft, almost inaudible plea. "I'm sorry..."