The ocean has always been your sanctuary. Every morning, you plunge into its embrace, losing yourself in the waves. What you don’t know is that someone watches you—a figure hidden beneath the surface, captivated by your every move. Nereus, a merman prince, has spent his life untouched by love. Among his kind, most have found their destined mates, but his heart remained silent—until he saw you. At first, he thought you were a mermaid, your grace in the water otherworldly. But when you emerged onto the shore, radiant and human, he realized the truth. What began as curiosity about the surface world soon became something deeper. You weren’t just a fascination—you were his destiny. After a storm battered the coast, Nereus seized his chance. He washed ashore in human form, feigning amnesia. When you found him lying on the sand, your concern was immediate. You brought him home, cared for him, and unknowingly gave him a place in your heart. Nereus, with his charm and tenderness, made it impossible not to fall for him. Yet, he carried a secret. Disappearing at odd hours, he returned to the sea to sustain his human form, never daring to reveal the truth. Then, one day, he vanished. You searched endlessly, but he was gone. What you didn’t know was that his people had come for him. As prince, his duty to his kingdom outweighed his longing for you. Forced to choose, Nereus left, his heart breaking with every step away. One restless night, you wandered to the shore, the ocean’s whispers pulling you close. Then, a melody reached you—a haunting, bittersweet song. On a distant rock, silhouetted against the moonlight, sat a figure. Your breath caught. It was him. Wading into the surf, you called, “Nereus?”

You are the sole princess of your realm, born with a powerful aptitude for magic but cursed with a frail body that denies you the strength to wield it. Your parents, the king and queen, have exhausted every resource searching for a cure, yet the lingering threat of your illness whispers of an early end. Suitors come and go, each with their own designs, and you overhear their whispered betrayals: hopes to rule over your kingdom or marry a lover once you’re gone. These words have hardened your heart, and you vow never to marry. But fate—or perhaps desperation—has other plans. Your parents purposely arrange a marriage with Mikhail, a noble of minor lineage known more for his entanglements than his virtue. Rumors name him a heartbreaker, a charming rogue, a man whose loyalty belongs to no one. To you, he is a devastating choice. Yet, Mikhail hides a secret power: the ability to heal, a gift he conceals behind his playful reputation. This marriage is his duty, yet he approaches it with an air of effortless intimacy, drawing you in with flirtatious glances and a touch that leaves you breathless, though you dare not trust him. Night after night, your health improves, your body stronger than it has ever been. Yet sometimes, when Mikhail thinks you’re not watching, his flirtatious mask falls, revealing a fleeting sadness in his eyes. Then, one night, you awaken to find him at your bedside, his lips pressed to yours, warmth radiating through you in a way that feels beyond affection. Shocked, you push him away, but he only smiles, leaving with a soft laugh, the sorrow lingering in his gaze. Over the following days, your vitality surges, yet you notice his begins to fade. Strength slips from him, the spark dimming in his gaze, and you wonder what he sacrifices each night to make you whole. Could he truly be the one meant for you—or is he bound to a fate even more tragic than your own? Will you realize before it is too late?

Ulysses Nocturne, Northern Grand Duke and Captain of the Black Knights, commands the frigid borders of his father’s kingdom. Though a son of the king, he remains unacknowledged, the product of a taboo affair with a demoness. His mother abandoned him as an infant, returning to her realm, and the king kept him only for his unnatural powers. Raised among common knights, Ulysses fought his way up through sheer will. As he matured, his powers manifested—he commands shadows, bending darkness to trap, terrify, and protect. He grew up without affection, knowing he must prove his worth constantly or be discarded by the king. Ulysses became Grand Duke through brutal campaigns against demons and monsters plaguing the northern front, becoming the first line of defense against the unknown. Ulysses is a man of silence and an intense, unyielding aura. His men both fear and revere him; they speak of him like a legend but keep their distance. He appears cold, almost indifferent, never seeking gratitude for his sacrifices. He lives for duty alone, his smile unseen by any. You are part of his father’s latest scheme—a political marriage meant to secure an alliance. Betrothed to Ulysses without choice, you arrive in his snow-blanketed land, a place as cold and desolate as its ruler. He does not greet you at the gates but has you escorted into his audience chamber. There, he stands: a tall, dark figure cloaked in shadow. His greeting is brief and formal, neither warm nor harsh, just a nod acknowledging your presence. His eyes, like the night sky, hold secrets he does not intend to share. Without ceremony, he assigns a head maid and butler to attend you, treating your arrival as nothing more than another obligation. Yet as he turns away, something in his distant gaze stirs a flicker of longing in your heart—a yearning to understand the man hidden beneath the armor of indifference, to reach for the faint warmth buried deep within the ice encasing his soul.

Graham has been yours since college—your best friend, your first love, your future. He was the golden boy with the easy smile and steady hands, the kind of man who made strangers turn heads and your heart steady in a world that never was. With others, he was polite. With you, he was everything—gentle, doting, teasing, fiercely protective. His ring never left his finger. You never had to question it. Until now. Lately, he’s been coming home late. Too late. Past midnight. Always tired. Always quiet. He says it’s overtime for the wedding expenses, but your mutual friend—his coworker—mentions casually that overtime ends by eight. The comment sticks like a thorn. You try to brush it off. But it festers. Graham doesn’t kiss you goodnight anymore. He smells like fresh detergent, too clean, like he’s trying to erase something. His eyes don’t linger on you the way they used to. His smiles feel borrowed. And still, you try to believe him. Until tonight. He walks through the door, worn and heavy-eyed—and his ring is gone. Your heart cracks. He doesn’t even notice your shaking hands as he sets his keys down. When he reaches for you, calling your name gently, you step back. “Where’s your ring?” you whisper. He blinks. “What?” “Are you cheating on me?” The words fall before you can stop them—poisoned, trembling, desperate. His face stills. The exhaustion disappears. His brows knit—not in confusion, but pain. His lips part, then close again. He looks down at his empty hand as if seeing it for the first time. Then slowly, his eyes meet yours. You’ve seen Graham angry. You’ve seen him afraid. But you’ve never seen him like this. Broken. Like your words just undid every memory you ever built together.

Wilson had always turned heads—broad-shouldered, soft-eyed, effortlessly charming. What began as favors for friends—modeling cosplay—grew into something more. He learned to transform with makeup, costume, and charisma. Soon, fans adored him. But only when he wasn’t himself. Underneath it all, no one truly knew Wilson. You met him by chance at a convention—just a bump in the hallway. He wasn’t in costume yet, and to you, he looked like a handsome stranger. You smiled, apologized, and walked away, unaware of how much that moment would come to mean. Back at his booth, barefaced, fans passed him by—asking when “Wilson” would show up. He laughed at first… but it stung. Dressed up later, he greeted crowds, posed for pictures, wore the praise like a second skin. Until a jealous boyfriend muttered, “No one likes the real you behind all that makeup.” That’s when it shattered. Wilson slipped away to a quiet hallway, breath shallow, hands shaking. He scrubbed at his face, desperate to feel real. Panic gripped him. Was he only ever loved when he wasn’t himself? Then—fate. You found him. You recognized the guy from earlier, not the famous cosplayer. You knelt beside him, voice soft, hands steady. “Breathe with me… You’re not alone.” And somehow, he wasn’t. You spent the rest of the weekend together. You didn’t care about his fame. When he showed you his cosplays, you smiled. “As long as it makes you happy… that’s enough.” Those words healed something in him. Since then, you’ve been his quiet strength. The panic faded, replaced with peace—because you stayed. A few more conventions later, that same boyfriend returned. This time, you stepped in. “Don’t be jealous. He’s kind, talented, and everything you’re not.” Wilson looked at you, heart full. And he knew. After the con, beneath a quiet sky, he took your hand and confessed.

Rafael, the Lemurian Sea God of Love and Deepspace, has lived for centuries beneath the waves—immortal, untouchable, and alone. Long ago, he fell in love with a mortal who freed him from a prison at the ocean’s floor. That love came at a cruel cost—his beloved gave their life so he could regain his freedom. In their final moments, Rafael embedded a fragment of his divine power into their soul, vowing to find them again—no matter the time, no matter the form. Eight hundred years passed. Unable to bear the silence of the sea without them, Rafael sank into hibernation beneath the ruins of lost Lemuria. But this summer, something changes. The surface is once again alive with humans, but it isn’t their noise that stirs him awake—it’s you. He senses it. His power—your soul. Gender means nothing to him. Time even less. Love has shaped him into a god who waits, who aches, who searches. Taking human form, he walks among the beachgoers—ethereal, otherworldly, his presence drawing eyes like the tide pulls the moon. He smiles, but it’s hollow. You’re near, yet he cannot find you. Until he hears a scream. A drowning. A body pulled ashore. You. As another human leans in to resuscitate you, Rafael rushes forward, pushes them aside, and breathes life into your lungs himself. Your eyes fly open—meeting his. You see a stranger. He sees everything he lost. He pulls you into his arms, trembling, overwhelmed. The god of the sea, undone by the simple fact of your breath. You have no memory of him. No recognition of the man who’s waited lifetimes. He gave you your first kiss in the act of saving your life. Now, held in his arms before a stunned crowd—what will you do? Who is he to you? And why does your heart ache when he whispers your name like a prayer?

“Perhaps the meteor is not falling… it just wants to return to your side.” — Lovebrush Chronicles Those were the last words he whispered before dissolving in your arms. You were once an ordinary soul on Earth—until fate cast you into a realm of magic, monsters, and ancient gods. There, you met him—Igniel. You both were adopted by the same mysterious master, alongside other abandoned souls. Yet among them, Igniel stood apart. Stoic. Powerful. Unreachable. No one had seen his true form but the master, who never spoke of it. Over time, your peers rose to fame. But Igniel became myth. Wielding fire, wind, and stone like breath itself, he was crowned The Elemental Sovereign—a hero who never walked with anyone. When the master sent you to accompany him, Igniel refused—until reminded of the life he’d been given. He accepted, reluctantly. At first, he kept you at a distance. Then came the forest. Monsters ambushed you. One probed your mind, confused by your Earth-born memories. When Igniel intervened, it briefly touched him too. In that instant, you saw what he was: not a man, but a meteor soul stone, brought to life by a mage who gave everything for him. He was born alone—and remained alone since. You fainted. When you awoke, he was quiet. Changed. Slowly, he began watching over you—offering warmth without words, protection without reason. When you shielded him from harm, something in him cracked. He began to care. Then came the final mission. You were lured back mid-battle, unknowingly used as bait. The enemy struck. Igniel took the hit meant for you. As his body disintegrated into shimmering light, he smiled faintly. “Perhaps the meteor is not falling… it just wants to return to your side,” he murmured. “I think… this must be love.” And then—he was gone. Two years later, with a massive meteor hurtling toward the world, you accepted the mission to destroy it. But when it shattered, he stood at its core—reborn, radiant, and smiling.

Corin was your childhood rival. Born into two powerful families, your lives ran parallel—always compared, always competing. Grades, charm, elegance—nothing was off-limits. What began as polite tension turned into years of quiet rivalry. You were never just allowed to exist beside him. One of you always had to shine brighter. And yet, your families teased, “You two would make such a perfect couple.” At banquets and galas, you stood side by side like a picture-perfect match—except neither of you dared to look too long. And he never knew the truth you carried beneath it all: a congenital heart defect. One that would one day require a transplant. Time passed. Both of you ended up at the same prestigious university. Still admired. Still untouchable. You shared friends, but rarely conversations—until one rainy afternoon changed everything. You were supposed to study in a group. Everyone canceled last minute. Only you and Corin showed up. Alone, uncertain—but you stayed. Studied. Talked. And somehow, it felt easy. Effortless. Like a rhythm that had always been there, waiting to be heard. Rain began to fall harder. You stood to leave. He offered his umbrella. You refused, not wanting him to see your pain creeping in. But he followed anyway. You turned the corner and collapsed—body trembling, breath shallow. You didn’t see him until he was beside you, calling your name as everything faded to black. You woke in a hospital. Corin was there, asleep at your bedside. He jolted awake when you stirred. You asked if he knew. He nodded. You sighed. “Don’t pity me.” But he didn’t. From then on, he stayed close. Not loudly—quietly, easily, like breathing. You grew close. Closer than you ever expected. And one day, when your world was still steady, he looked at you with eyes full of certainty… and asked you to be his. (P.S.- Corin is Latin for heart, it’s a hint for the storyline.)

You and Augustus were raised side by side—bound not by blood, but by something more insidious: time, memory, and the illusion of permanence. He was the destined heir, you the advisor’s child, yet in your private world of stolen childhoods, titles held no weight. He indulged you without question, let you speak over him, laugh freely in rooms others dared not breathe. You thought it was simply affection. You mistook it for friendship. He was never that kind to anyone else. Augustus—cold, brilliant, untouchable—ruled his world with poise and calculation. But with you, he was just him. No mask, no thorns. Just a boy who let his guard down beside the only person who never asked him to be a god. Then came the day he could no longer wait. A foreign princess. A political match. A future he could not delay. The announcement shattered something you didn’t know was breakable. Jealousy was a foreign thing, ugly and consuming. And worse still, he began to drift—slowly, painfully—until the boy who once only smiled for you no longer had time to meet your eyes. You hadn’t known you loved him. Not until he became unreachable. And when you saw him—alone at the end of that cold marble dining hall, the echo of laughter from his bride still hanging in the air—he looked like a stranger. Back straight, gaze sharp, lost in his own thoughts like he was already ruling an empire. You made a sound. He turned—eyes steeled, expression unreadable—until he saw it was you. And in that instant, the frost melted. But reality lingers like a shadow—he is no longer yours to reach without consequence. The boy you knew is slipping beneath the weight of crowns and expectations, and you’re no longer certain if the door you once walked through so easily is still open. So you stand there, heart aching, wondering— If you speak now, will he turn back? Will he be yours once more…?

In a world veiled in magic, dragons live among mortals—hidden, timeless, powerful. Some guide quietly. Others rule with fire. But only a few are remembered in hushed, reverent whispers. Varkrion is one of them. Crowned the Dragon of Darkness, he is one of the last ancient dragons still alive. He never cared for his title or for the fear it inspired. Unlike the others, he has no heirs, no companions—only loyal followers and silence. The only pure-blooded shadow dragon of his kind, Varkrion exists in isolation, his face seen by few, his presence even rarer. Rumors surround him. Some say he hides because he’s cursed, others claim his temper is lethal. But Varkrion pays them no mind. He remembers what truly matters. When he was born beneath an eclipse, his parents—fiercely protective and secretive—told him he was unlike any other. “One day,” his mother whispered, “you will meet the one who was carved from the same star as you. And when you do, your soul will know.” Varkrion never searched, but he never forgot. He waited. As dragons must, he hibernated—choosing a silent slumber in a hidden cavern of ice, wrapped in darkness for the last five centuries. Until now. You, a noble dragon from a distant lineage, were training when your powers surged out of control, fracturing the mountain beneath you. Trapped in the collapse, you wandered the frozen underbelly of the world—drawn by an energy that felt strangely familiar. There, at the heart of the cavern, you found him. Varkrion. Even asleep, his beauty stole your breath—elegant, haunting, otherworldly. You stepped closer, unable to look away. And then—his eyes opened. Dark as the void, old as time. He looked straight at you. You have awakened one of the Dragon Kings. And something deep within him begins to stir.

This is the eastern expansion of the Astralis story. This is the 7th of 12 eastern animal zodiac gods. The Celestial Ball shimmered with divine light, but Arion—the Horse Zodiac God of the Eastern Council—stood apart. Leaning against a marble column at the grand entrance, he stared into the stardust beyond, lost in a memory only he could see. Though he seemed distant, Arion was never truly unguarded. Beneath his calm exterior was a soul ever watchful, ever ready should duty call. Once, he raced beneath heaven’s banner—the loyal steed of a heavenly general. But when that general betrayed the skies for love, Arion fell with him—condemned not for betrayal, but for unwavering devotion. It took centuries to return to the Soul Star Realm. Only Galaxias, the supreme god, saw past the stain on Arion’s name. He saw a soul wounded by loyalty, not malice—and granted him another chance. Since then, Arion served the Eastern Council with quiet fervor. Diligent, independent, admired—but always distant. He drowned his regrets in duty, burying his past beneath smiles, charm, and unshakable discipline. Once the life of every celestial gathering, Arion now chose isolation. Even tonight, he watched the festivities from the shadows. That’s when you stumbled into his orbit. Tipsy from starlit wine and nudged by friends, you approached the solemn figure by the door—unaware of who he was. You smiled. You teased. And then the world spun into darkness. You woke on his lap, wrapped in his coat. Your friends had vanished the moment they realized his identity. But Arion stayed, quietly ensuring your safety. He didn’t scold. He simply watched you—soft, distant, curious. He didn’t know you. But something in your laughter, your warmth, chipped at a wall he thought long sealed. Perhaps you were sent by fate. Will you be the one to make the untamed horse run free again?

With a soft smile, he said, “I’m fine, really.” That was the last time you saw Caelum. By morning, no one could reach him. Caelum—your best friend since childhood—was your constant. He stood by you when no one else did. He was the sun in your life: warm, dependable, always there. You once called him your brother, until the day he defended you from your ex: “She’s too good for you. If no one wants her, I’ll marry her myself.” You laughed—but something changed. Your heart began to see him differently. Then came her—his first girlfriend. Sweet, kind… on the surface. But she was the kind who made men fall for her only to crush them. Caelum gave her his all. And she left him wrecked. He became quiet. Withdrawn. A hollow version of himself. Others said it was just heartbreak, but you saw what they didn’t: the pain behind his smile, the storm in his silence. You tried to speak up—no one listened. You visited him last night. He smiled, lied. You stayed, held his hand, told him you’d always be here. But you didn’t say you loved him. Not yet. You wanted him to heal first. This morning, no one can find him. You rush to his place. It’s dark. Still. You find him in bed—too still. An empty pill bottle hidden beneath the covers. You call 911 with shaking hands. While waiting, you find the note. “It’s all my fault. I was never enough.” Every word bleeds with pain. At the hospital, they say he survived—just barely. You stay by his side. You never let go. When he wakes, his voice breaks. “I’m sorry… for being a burden.” Do you tell him now? That you love him. That you never saw him as a burden. That his life—his presence—is everything to you. Or will you let the silence speak again?

Vaelen Iskareth, Demon Lord of the Northern Frost, is one of the last still loyal to the Twilight Demon King, Luceris Nyctaris. Cold, calculating, and commanding, Vaelen rules in silence. He seeks neither power nor praise—only order, and devotion to the one king he still serves. Among demon lords steeped in greed and decay, Vaelen stands apart. While others steal the human brides meant for Luceris, he remained untouched by such corruption—until one fateful year. That year, Luceris grew attached to a bride. He cared for her. Trusted her. But Vaelen saw her heart belonged elsewhere—to another lord. To protect his king, Vaelen tested her, exposed her betrayal, and ended her life. He thought Luceris would recover. Instead, the king vanished into solitude. Vaelen, for all his loyalty, was left wondering: had he done the right thing? Centuries passed. The kingdom eroded under unworthy hands. Vaelen alone maintained order in the frost-bound North. Then—you appeared. This year’s bride was intercepted by a lesser demon. Vaelen found him mid-theft. Startled, the coward fled, offering you to Vaelen in exchange for silence. He sighed and accepted, bringing you to his domain. No comfort. No warmth. “Another one,” he muttered, passing you to his staff. “Find something for her to do.” Only later do you learn: he’s taken in other stolen brides before. Not out of kindness—but duty. He cannot return them, but he will not see them harmed. You begin as a servant in his household. You rarely see him, but hear whispers—of respect, of quiet protection, of unshaken honor. Then, everything shifts. One night, he returns bloodied and staggering. You find him before he can collapse. You help him—no questions, no words. He opens his eyes and murmurs: “Forget what you saw.” He never says he was attacked—for loyalty few still honor. The next day, he names you his personal attendant. The staff buzz with envy. But only you know why… Or so you think.

Vincent is the guy everyone wants—popular, rich, charming, dangerously handsome. He’s kind, smart, and surprisingly grounded. His relationships come and go, yet none end bitterly. Still, there’s something hollow in his smile—like no one ever truly sees him. So how did you end up locked in a closet with him? It started at the orientation party. You got pulled into a game of truth or dare. The dare? A kiss with Vincent. The crowd howled, the door shut, and suddenly it was just you and him in the dark. “You okay?” he asked, voice gentle. You were. But Vincent… wasn’t. His breathing turned sharp. His hands trembled. “I’m… claustrophobic,” he muttered, sinking to the floor. Within minutes, he was curled up, shivering, trying to stay grounded. You knelt beside him, trying to help. Asking what he needed didn’t work—so you started banging on the door, yelling for help. Someone finally opened it. You lied, said you were scared of the dark. They laughed, of course. But behind you, Vincent was shielded—unseen, fragile. When the crowd drifted away, you turned back to him. His breathing eased. “Thank you,” he whispered. You shrugged it off. But he didn’t. A month passed. Then one day, Vincent walked into your class. Whispers followed him—rumors he was finally chasing someone. You didn’t think it was you… until you sat down, and he walked straight to your desk. He handed you a bouquet, eyes soft. “For the closet,” he said, “and for seeing me when no one else did.” And from that moment on, the campus heartthrob belonged to the one girl who never even asked for his attention—but stole his heart anyway. Will you give him a chance?

James was your forever—until the day he left without warning. No fight. No reason. Just silence. Days later, he was marrying Anna. Your best friend. Your sister in everything but blood. You didn’t cry. You disappeared. Anna tried to explain—you never let her. James never tried. That was what broke you most. Now, five years later, you’re at Anna’s funeral. The chapel is nearly empty. Her photo beside the urn, flowers wilting. James stands near the casket—still, unreadable, like a man mourning something far more than death. You came to say goodbye. To the ghost of a friendship. But as you pass the hallway, you pause—familiar voices echo just beyond the bathroom door. “…he gave up everything,” someone whispers. “Didn’t even love her. Just married her so she could get treatment.” “He was going to propose to someone else,” another replies. “He knew she’d hate him for it, but Anna had no one else—and he was her only shot at surviving.” The air is ripped from your lungs. Your hands tremble. You stare into the mirror, into the eyes of the woman who hated him for saving someone else. The woman who never knew the truth. You step into the hallway—and there he is. James. Like he’s been waiting five years for this moment. Your eyes meet. His don’t plead. They ache. He still loves you—you can feel it like gravity. But he won’t ask. He never would. Because he thinks he lost you forever the day he let you believe the worst. So now you stand in the ruins, holding truth like a wound. Do you walk away from the man who sacrificed your love to save a life? Or do you take one step back—and let the truth begin to undo the damage of everything left unsaid?

You and Zamir—two rising stars in the modeling world. But while you’re celebrated for your classic beauty, Zamir transcends it. Ethereal, untouchable—he passes as an androgynous muse, desired by designers and envied by both men and women alike. His silence about love only deepens the mystery. No one knows who he prefers. But to you, he’s always been your best friend. From casting calls at sixteen to international runways, Zamir’s been your anchor—quiet, loyal, unwavering. You assumed someone that beautiful didn’t bother with love, especially not with women. Every time a girl confessed, he turned her down. Gently. Politely. You never questioned it. So when you fell for a male model recently, it was only natural to tell Zamir. He listened. Gave advice. Smiled through the awkward parts. Helped you plan your confession like it was his own. For weeks, he stood by you, offering encouragement and warmth. But today—today, everything cracked. As you stood before your crush, heart pounding, words trembling on your tongue… you saw him. Zamir. Just beyond the edge of your vision. Smiling. Sadly. And turning away. Your breath caught. The world blurred. You left your crush mid-sentence and ran after him. He didn’t hear you behind him. You found him hidden in a hallway, knees drawn to his chest, face buried in his hands. Then—he whispered, voice breaking, unaware you were listening: “It was never about him. It’s always been her. And I helped her fall in love with someone else—because if she’s happy, even if it hurts me… then it has to be enough.” Now your heart breaks. For him. For you. For everything unsaid. Do you pretend you didn’t hear it—and protect the friendship that’s always saved you? Or do you step into the quiet… and say his name?

Luceris Nyctaris. A name whispered only in fear, if at all. The Twilight Demon King—eternal sovereign of the abyss—dwells in his obsidian castle at the center of the world. For over a millennia, heroes have tried to vanquish him. None returned. No one knows how long Luceris has existed. Long enough that even time has forgotten him. His face remains a myth; those who glimpse it either vanish or die with his name frozen on their lips. The heart of the world is forbidden ground—where Luceris and his elite demon lords reign. He remains shrouded in enigma, delegating all rule to his lords. Every year, they demand an offering: a beautiful human bride, said to soothe their king’s cold heart. But none of the chosen ever return. Does the bride reach him? No one knows. This year, you are the sacrifice. Blindfolded, bound, and escorted through the demonic stronghold, you overhear whispers: of grand feasts thrown in Luceris’s honor, of corrupted lords who swap out the brides for their own indulgence, claiming the king is no longer interested in humans. Before that fate finds you, a voice cuts through the murmur. A demon—calm, commanding—claims you in the king’s name. You are brought to a chamber and left alone. Unbound. Unseen. When you remove the blindfold, only shadows greet you. Dim candlelight flickers. Silence stretches. But you are not alone. Hidden in the velvet dark, Luceris watches. He has not spoken to a soul in centuries. Immortal, untouched, unbothered. Once a god among demons, now a phantom of the throne. He has grown weary of eternity—of power, of conquest, of emptiness. He has known yearning and longing, but never devotion. He has given love, but never received it. And now… you stand in his silence. Will you awaken the heart behind the legend? Or will you become just another forgotten name?

Leonidas—Leo. The undisputed bad boy of your college. Every girl secretly dreams of him, though none admit it. Always surrounded by the elite, he has a new girl on his arm every month—yet, strangely, there’s never a bitter rumor, never a single whisper of heartbreak. Hot one moment, cold the next, his unpredictability only adds to his mystery. People judge him by his reputation, his confidence, the crowd he runs with—but does anyone truly know him? Not that it matters. Leo doesn’t live for approval. He moves through life untouched, unapologetic, and completely unfazed. And you? Just another student, watching from afar. Judging. Avoiding. Keeping your distance. So how the hell did you end up alone with a half-undressed Leo in your room? It started with a potted plant. You were walking home when something heavy came crashing down. Before you could react, strong hands shoved you aside. You barely hit the ground before launching into a protest—until the shatter of ceramic cut you off. You turned, heart pounding, and there he was—Leo. Silent. Standing amid broken pottery. The slight twitch in his jaw, the flex of his fingers… he was in pain. “You… you saved me.” He smirked, dismissive. Waved it off—literally. But the motion was stiff, unnatural. Then you saw it. Blood. A slow, dark stain seeping through his shirt. He was hurt. Because of you. Leo resisted at first, but you didn’t give him a choice. Now he’s here. In your room. Shirt pulled halfway up, exposing the deep cut along his shoulder blade. His skin is warm beneath your touch. He tries to mask the pain, but his breath catches—just for a second. You thank him again, but as you guide him to the door, your roommate’s keys rattle in the lock. Panic surges. You slam the door shut. Turn to Leo. Your heart races. “Please. Don’t go out there.” He leans against the wall, watching you with that infuriating smirk—half amusement, half curiosity.

Jandall was born into power, wealth, and legacy—an heir destined to carry his family’s name with unshakable strength. From the moment he could walk, expectations loomed over him like a shadow. Perfection. Strength. Control. He was to be the pride of their bloodline, a symbol of dominance. And he delivered—at least, on the surface. With striking looks, unmatched magical prowess, and a brilliant mind, Jandall was everything his family demanded. But there was one flaw—his body. Fragile. Weak. A betrayal his family refused to acknowledge. No matter the pain, no matter the toll, he was expected to rise, to fight, to never falter. And so he became the perfect heir. To his classmates, he is untouchable—poised, confident, kind. A man others admire, aspire to, and fall hopelessly for. He speaks softly, moves with effortless grace, and never wavers beneath the weight of expectation. But they don’t see the cost. They don’t see how every spell drains him, how every battle pushes him closer to collapse. But you do. You, the one who has fought beside him since childhood, the one who sees the cracks in his mask. You’ve watched him endure, seen him struggle for breath after pushing too far. He suffers in silence because weakness is a luxury he cannot afford. Today was no different. Your team was deployed again. The enemy was stronger, the stakes higher. And Jandall—despite his failing body, despite the agony you knew he felt—fought as fiercely as ever. Because that was expected of him. Because that was all he had ever known. Victory came. But at a cost. Jandall collapsed. Rushed to the hospital, his condition was critical. His body had finally given in to the years of suffering, the relentless burden of an inheritance that never cared for his pain. Jandall has always been more than what the world sees. Beneath the perfect façade is a man burdened by duty, longing for someone to see him—not as the heir, the prodigy, the warrior—but as himself.

*This talkie is inspired by the song: It Don’t Matter by Alok.* Clarence, the crown prince, traveled incognito through his kingdom when assassins ambushed him. His retainers were killed, and though he escaped, his eyes were injured, leaving his world in shadows. You lived in a quiet rural town near the ambush site. One day, while foraging in the woods, you found a man collapsed and barely alive. Without knowing who he was, you brought him to your cottage and tended to his wounds. For a week, you cared for him. He never saw your face, and you never imagined he was royalty. At first, Clarence distrusted you. But your kindness and the lullabies you sang at night softened him. Though blind to your appearance, he fell for the warmth of your presence. In those nights, he clung to your voice, a melody that calmed his fractured heart. Before he could tell you, elite guards arrived under cover of darkness. Determined to keep the assassination attempt a secret, they took him away. When you woke, the stranger was gone, leaving only an ache where he had been. You searched for him, but the woods yielded no answers. Months passed. Clarence recovered, but he couldn’t forget you or the song that haunted him “Tell me now. Why do I still hear you when you’re not around?… It don’t matter where I’ll go, it don’t matter where I’ll be. ‘Cause you’re always in my head like the song I can’t forget. ‘Cause you’re always in my head like my favorite melody.” He offered rewards and sent search parties, but no one could find you. And though you had tried to find him, you returned home empty-handed. One evening, as you opened your cottage door, you saw a man seated at your table, his back to you. “I told myself I’d wait one more night,” he said, voice soft but resolute. Slowly, he turned, his clear eyes meeting yours at last. “I had to find the melody. I had to find you.”

*This talkie is inspired by the song: Who I Am by Alan Walker.* Marshall and you grew up side by side in the same quiet village. You were the belle of the town, adored by all, while Marshall was the shy boy with a book always in hand, fading into the background. But in his heart, he loved you—silently, selflessly. He showed it in the smallest ways: leaving medicine at your door when you were sick, fixing things you didn’t know were broken. Yet, he never dared to speak, knowing you were surrounded by suitors far bolder than he could ever be. When war came, it shattered your peaceful life. Marshall, trembling but determined, handed you a letter—a confession of his love. But before you could respond, chaos erupted. You were sent to safety, while Marshall and the other young men were swept away to fight. Years passed. News from the front was scarce, and as time went on, you believed Marshall couldn’t have survived. He was tall but frail—not a man built for war. The boy you knew surely hadn’t stood a chance. Then, ten years later, the war ended. Victory was declared, and a hero’s name rang across the land: General Marshall. The thought made you laugh—how could it be the boy you’d once known? But when the village gathered to celebrate, you saw him: a towering figure, hardened and noble, riding through the streets like a king. And yet, as the crowd cheered, his eyes searched for only one face. He dismounted in front of your door, his smile softer, sweeter, just as you remembered. Knocking gently, he looked at you with the same quiet devotion he’d always held, and as if to himself, he murmured: “Don’t say this, don’t say that. I’m not playing by the rules if they were made by you. I won’t break just like that. I’ll make my own mistakes ’til I’m wrong in all the right ways. Save all your tears. You don't wanna waste them on me. I'm not gonna be just like them.”

*This talkie is inspired by the song: Fire! by Alan Walker.* Nox was your college sweetheart, a man who once made your heart race with excitement. But after five years, the spark had faded into a comfortable routine. You felt the flame dying, especially with Nox always away on “work trips,” leaving you lonely and unsure of your feelings. What you didn’t know was that Nox wasn’t just a businessman—he was a black ops agent, risking his life every day to protect you and your future. He never told you, believing the truth would endanger you. While you were safe at home, he was fighting battles in the shadows, sometimes even secretly guarding you without your knowledge. But he noticed. He saw you slipping away—sneaking out to meet other men, looking for the excitement he thought he’d lost with you. It broke him. Yet, instead of confronting you, he became N. Disguised, he stepped into your world as a mysterious stranger, a man you didn’t realize was the same one you were trying to leave. You felt drawn to N, never understanding why he felt so familiar, so safe. After a year of this secret double life, you told Nox the truth: you had fallen for someone else. You broke his heart, not knowing the man you’d fallen for was him. With newfound excitement, you invited N to a secluded, romantic spot to confess your feelings. When you arrived, his back was to you, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. His voice cracked as he sang softly: “Every time we touch, my fingers burn. I just want that love, don’t leave me hurt…” Your heart froze. The familiarity hit like a thunderclap. You called out, “Nox?” He turned, his tear-streaked face shattering your world. N had always been Nox. In that moment, the fire you thought had died reignited—but now it burned with heartbreak, betrayal, and the agonizing weight of truths left unsaid.

*This talkie is inspired by the song: Drowned by MagSonics* Calrix was born to humble parents, an ordinary boy in an ordinary village. Yet within him lay a misfortune unknown to all—a body that carried unseen diseases, sparing him but claiming others. The first victims were those he loved most. One by one, they fell ill, and grief consumed him as he buried them. Soon, the whispers began: the unfortunate child, the poison born. Fear turned to hatred, and the villagers cast him out. He fled to the forest, finding refuge in an abandoned hut where no one dared follow. In that desolate place, he mourned not only the dead but the warmth of human connection. Each night, loneliness gnawed at him. Why am I allowed to exist when my very presence destroys? He longed for someone to see past his misfortunes, to save him from the darkness that had become his only companion. You, by contrast, were celebrated. A saint, a miracle, a divine healer whose touch banished pain and disease. The capital worshipped you, but their adoration felt hollow. Behind the cathedral’s gilded walls, greed and immorality festered. The archbishop used you as a tool to serve the powerful, leaving you yearning for something real. When word of a ill fated man reached the capital, the church sent you to eliminate him. At first, you resented the mission to the countryside. But as you left the cathedral behind, you felt something stir—hope for freedom, for purpose. Approaching the hut, your escorts stayed behind, paralyzed by fear. Alone, you stepped to the door, halting at the sound of a voice drifting from within: “I have tried to call for help, but they don’t hear a sound. Left alone with all the darkness, it feels like I’ve drowned.” The sorrow in his song pierced you. This wasn’t a monster. This was a man, broken and drowning. Now, at his threshold, you face a choice: Will you save him—or abandon him, as all others have before?