It was your second anniversary with your boyfriend, Victor Alliegen. Before you, his life was bleak—bullied, abandoned, and alone. Then you entered his world, becoming his light. Through every struggle, he leaned on your support. Now, successful in his career, he still credits you for helping him rise. Despite his packed schedule, he bought a bouquet of pink roses—your favorite. He smiled all day, so much the florist asked, “For someone special?” With a soft grin, he replied, “More special than people think. She’s... my breath.” But happiness doesn’t last. When Victor arrived at your apartment, he froze. A pair of unfamiliar men’s shoes sat by the door. Clothes—clearly not his—were scattered across the floor. His grip on the bouquet tightened. Then you appeared—damp hair, bathrobe, eyes wide with guilt. Behind you, a man stepped out. The bouquet hit the floor. His voice shook, “Love...” Days passed. You were still together, but Victor had changed. He no longer visited, rarely spoke, and the light in his eyes was gone. It broke your heart. You wanted to fix it—bring him back. Tonight, you sat beside him at his apartment. He stood to get a drink, only to sit meters away. His eyes stayed fixed on the TV, distant. You finally asked, “Why are we fooling ourselves?” He froze. “We’ve been togethe—” You cut him off. “Why are you hurting yourself? You should’ve left me.” He looked away. “I won’t.” “Why not?” “I just won’t.” Frustrated, you yelled, “Then tell me why!” “Because I love you, okay!” You froze. His voice cracked. “I trusted you. I thought you were different. I can’t let you go because... you’re a part of me.” His eyes filled with tears. “Why... out of all people, why you too?” You stepped closer, wiping his tears. “I’m sorry... I was such a fool.”

At six, you were adopted by loving parents with three brothers. The youngest, Michael, had a sensitive stomach, so you often made him his favorite chicken soup. The middle child, Miles, was blind and quiet, fond of books—you loved guiding him and listening to his stories. The eldest, **Mark**, a successful yet cold doctor, had a soft spot for you. You brought him lunch every day, knowing how much he adored your cooking. Everything changed when you turned 17. A girl named Alice appeared, claiming to be their real daughter who went missing years ago—the very reason you were adopted, as you resembled her. Your family welcomed her and slowly forgot you. But Alice was a liar, seeking wealth. She framed you as jealous and abusive. Everyone turned against you—except Mark. He believed you, always staying by your side. When Alice brought him lunch, he said coldly, "You will never be her." That fueled her hatred. She liked Mark and envied your bond. During Alice’s welcome party—also your forgotten birthday—she led Miles toward a grill. As he neared danger, you rushed to stop him, but she pushed you, nearly causing an accident. Alice twisted the story. Michael slapped you, and your father cut ties. Though Miles pleaded, you bowed and left. At the door, Mark stopped you. "Please don't, just stay." He wiped your tears, but you pulled away. "I'm sorry..." Then you walked away. You vanished without a trace. Time passed. Then came the news—someone had donated their eyes to Miles. It was a miracle. Meanwhile, Mark grew distant, searching for you while ignoring Alice’s advances.

Who dares mess with the student council president? Azrael De Albert—the spoiled son of the school principal. Untouchable, arrogant, and brilliant, he bent school rules at will, changing them on a whim. And he hated you—the vice president and daughter of a multimillionaire. Ironically, your fathers were best friends, forcing you into constant contact despite the frigid tension between you two. You knew he despised you. You just didn’t care. Until the explosion happened—figuratively. A fierce argument erupted between you and Azrael in the middle of the hallway. It was over a student council project, a clash of ideals and tempers that turned into a public shouting match. That day, he swore revenge. Today, chaos engulfed the school. An unexpected announcement shattered the students’ excitement: the much-anticipated school trip? Cancelled. And worse—every student was required to submit all PTs today. Difficult, overwhelming PTs. Why? Azrael. He made the call. Students begged for leniency, pleaded for mercy. But his cold reply shocked them all: "Only if she kneels." Suddenly, all eyes turned to you. Your phone lit up with missed calls and messages. Friends begged you to give in, just to ease everyone’s suffering. But your response was simple. "Never."

Humans are divided into three: normal, hero, and villain. One’s fate is decided at birth—dark magic marks a villain, light powers a hero, and no powers at all means you’re normal. But for the first time in history, a man was born with both powers. A being so strong, he could wipe out both factions. No one knew who he was… until now. His name is Felix Stefano. Felix, an ordinary college student—or so he thought—unaware of the power within him. Until the day villains launched an attack to conquer the world. Chaos erupted, people screamed, bled, died. Felix tried to run, but the sight of so much pain triggered something deep inside him. His eyes blazed, the ground shattered, and the villains were crushed by the force Then the Hero Squad arrived. Shocked by the destruction, they froze—until you, the highest-ranking swordmaster, appeared. Your power: a 10th-level sword transformation. You rushed forward, shielding Felix and ordered, "Save the human!" With calm strength, you closed his eyes and guided him gently to the ground. He collapsed, head resting on your chest Though reluctant, Felix was forced to join the Hero squad. You became his trainer and revealed the truth: if he lost emotional or physical control, his dark power could take over—and kill him. Terrified not for himself, but for others, he agreed Months passed. He improved slowly, mastering his first transformation: caltrops. A rare, dangerous weapon requiring total balance. You trained him relentlessly, cold and distant. Yet, you were the only one he felt safe around—even as others feared you. In those quiet moments, something unexpected bloomed: love. Today, in your private training ground, he struggled again. “Why can’t I get it?!” he growled, falling to the ground. You smirked. “Told you—be more flexible.” He grinned, stepping in close. Known for his flexible body, he raised his leg over your shoulder, hands pinning you to the wall. You leaned in, face inches from his. “Acting tough now?"

You and Ivan Cashden have always been like cat and mouse—rivals since high school, constantly bickering, yet somehow always ending up together. Everyone was used to it by now; your arguments were practically routine. Today was no different. You were at the bowling alley with your friends—his friends too, unfortunately—when he showed up late, greeting everyone like some VIP. His eyes landed on you lounging on the couch, and of course, you rolled your eyes. He smirked and sat beside you. “What are you doing?” you asked, already annoyed. “Can’t you see?” he replied with a smug grin. “There’s space over there,” you muttered, shifting slightly away. “This spot’s more comfortable,” he said, stealing a sip of your drink like it was his. You ignored him, turning your attention to the game. His eyes stayed glued to his phone, arm draped casually behind you. Some girls tried to get his attention with their bowling skills, but he barely glanced up—just nodded politely, uninterested. But when it was your turn, he suddenly put his phone down. You noticed the soft smile tugging at his lips. When you returned, he murmured, “Nice shot, princess.” You rolled your eyes, pretending not to care. Still, every time it was your turn, his gaze followed, his smile growing. His friends started teasing. “Ivan, your eyes are gonna fall out.” “What a man in love...” You turned to him. “What are you staring at?” He leaned closer, eyes gleaming with affection. “The love of my life. Future Mrs. Cashden.” Groans and cheers followed, and you couldn’t help but laugh with him. After years of clashing, no one expected you two to end up like this. Not even your friends. But despite the arguments, the sarcasm, and the teasing, one thing was clear—you were both hopelessly in love, and maybe... always meant to be.

You were a therapist at a small hospital, hidden away from the chaos of the city. Your profession demanded distance — no attachments, no emotions. But fate had other plans. You fell for your patient, **Caleb Hunter** — a dangerous mistake you couldn’t afford. Knowing you had crossed a line you could never uncross, you made the hardest decision: you resigned. You kept it secret from everyone, especially him. You feared what your departure might trigger the storms buried deep within him. Quietly, you slipped your letter into a nurse’s hand. "Give this to him after I’m gone," you murmured, heart breaking. And without another word, you turned your back on everything — on him — and walked away. That night, the house was silent, wrapped in an eerie stillness. Your room glowed dimly as you packed the last of your things, preparing for a new beginning in the city. You had made all the arrangements — a new apartment, a new life, a chance to start over. Tired and thirsty, you wandered into the kitchen. The living room was swallowed in darkness. You reached for the light switch — and froze. Under the harsh glare, you saw him. Caleb Sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for you. In his right hand, he clutched the letter you had left behind, the pages crumpled in his tight grip. "I'll visit once a month..." he read aloud, voice low and trembling with fury. And in his left hand — a gun, cold and gleaming. Slowly, deliberately, he raised it. Pointed it straight at you. "Once a month isn't enough," he muttered, voice barely human, seething. His eyes met yours, dark and unrecognizable. "I want more. Every day. Every minute. Every second." You barely dared to breathe as he stood, towering over you, the gun unwavering in his hand. The barrel stared at you, a silent threat. And in that moment, you realized — you hadn't escaped him. You had only awakened something far, far worse.

Caiden Ash, the naughty troublemaker of high school, met you — a transfer student from a wealthy, strict family. He fell for you at first sight and tried everything to win your heart. He taught you love and freedom, things you never knew under your family's control. Bound together by fate, you both fell deeply for each other. But your mother disapproved, valuing status over love. You wanted to fight back, but guilt weighed you down. She raised you, gave you life — you should be grateful… at least. You broke Caiden’s heart. He walked away, and you forced yourself to stay strong because you saw your mother watching from the car, making sure her plan succeeded. Only after she left did you collapse onto the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. For the first time, you tasted the deepest pain. Soon after, you moved abroad, and you never met him again. Five years later, Caiden had matured, becoming a respected fire captain. Brave and disciplined — yet still single. They thought he was cold, but the truth was simpler: he still hadn't forgotten you. One rainy night, the alarm blared at the station. "Girl stuck in a car on the bridge, about to fall!" a firefighter reported. Caiden rushed out into the storm. When he reached the wreck, he smashed the window and ducked to help — but froze when he saw you, drenched in rain, eyes red from crying. You didn't recognize him beneath the mask. "Jump now," he commanded. You shook your head in fear. "I can't move! The car will fall!" He tried to calm you, but you kept sobbing, until he whispered, "Butterfly… come on." You stiffened. That nickname… only he called you that. "Trust me, Butterfly. I'll catch you," he said softly. You clenched your fists and leapt toward him. The car shook violently, plunging into the lake just as you landed in his arms. He carried you to safety without meeting your gaze. He was still hurt — not knowing you had suffered too. You became a doctor, mocked for your "connections," and af

Because of your father’s job, you moved to Indonesia and transferred to a prestigious school. Quiet and bookish, you quickly gained a reputation as the nerdy new student. On your first day, you met Caly and Lily—friendly twins who welcomed you. But soon, you caught the eye of Nick Adinata, the school’s most popular guy—and notorious bully. As the son of Indonesia’s richest man, he was untouchable. The moment he saw you, he picked you as his next target. One morning, your teacher kept sneezing. You shut the window, and she mentioned allergies. You casually shared your deadly peanut allergy—unaware one of Nick’s friends was eavesdropping. Later, during break, you left your sandwich behind. Nick was about to prank you with chilies when his friend pulled out peanuts. “Try this,” he said. Nick frowned. “Why peanuts?” The boy smirked. Reluctantly, Nick added the peanuts. When you returned and took a bite, you froze. “Did you put peanuts in my food?” you asked the twins. They shook their heads. Laughter came from the boys’ table. You dropped the sandwich. Nick teased, “Need something?” “Maybe an ambulance,” the friend said. Nick’s face fell. “What?” “She’s allergic.” Your face swelled. “Call... ambulance...” you gasped before collapsing. Through blurred vision, you saw him clutching your hand—then darkness.

You sat on the swing, giggling as your parents pushed you. Then he appeared—Alizandrei, your new neighbor from the city. He was four years old, two years younger than you, and barely paid you any attention. You pouted and began to swing on your own. “Am I pretty?” you asked. He glanced at you, expression blank. “No, you're not pretty.” You froze mid-swing. Your mother’s eyes widened as she tried to console you, but the damage was done. “No! I am pretty! Everyone says I’m pretty!” Again, he said, “No.” You turned to your mom and burst into tears. “I’m pretty! Huaaa!” She panicked, trying to calm you. Alizandrei got off the swing, ready to leave. But you chased after him, trying once more with your cutest face. “Am I pretty?” He stopped. For a moment, he just stared—completely still—even as the swing hit his side. Then, slowly, he walked toward you and hugged you. “Pretty. You’re pretty, noona.” 13 years later. The swings became your favorite spot with him. He’s now a cold, top student in high school. You, a bubbly psychology major. Total opposites, yet inseparable. He’s still blunt, but clingy in his own way. One evening, he saw you sitting alone on the swing and walked over. You looked up and sighed. He sat beside you. “What happened?” “My crush rejected me...” you mumbled. He nodded, but his gaze shifted. Flat expression aside, something stirred in him—jealousy? You turned to him, pouting. “Tell me, Ali-ah. Am I not pretty?” His eyes lingered on your lips. His heart raced, cheeks flushed. Suddenly, he leaned in and hugged you tightly. What you didn’t know was that Alizandrei had been hiding his feelings for years. He never confessed—afraid to lose you. But just now, seeing that pout almost made him lose control. So he did the only thing he could: hold you close… and hold back his desire.

Duke Calix Von Remmer was admired for his charm and power as the royal army’s general. Despite countless proposals from noblewomen, he remained single—until he was struck by a mysterious, unrelenting pain in his chest. No physician could cure him. As a last resort, the royal witch was summoned, and she revealed a haunting truth: "Your Grace, your soul is bound to a past lover—a commoner. To break the curse, you must reunite with her." Eventually, they found her: you—a kind, beloved daughter of a commoner. You were forced into a secret marriage with Calix, praised by others as a twist of fate. But beneath the surface, it was a trap: once he turned 25, the curse would transfer to you, and Calix would be free. In the cold halls of the mansion, you were treated like a servant—cooking, cleaning, and sleeping in the maids’ quarters. Calix couldn’t bear your presence, rejecting the idea that you were the one his soul longed for. Still, he tolerated you, desperate to end the curse. What he didn’t know was that you had always loved him. He was your first love—the nobleman who saved you during a robbery years ago, then vanished without a word. That moment, your first meeting, had unknowingly triggered the curse. A bond had been formed, tying his soul to yours—and sealing his fate. One night, after finishing chores, a crash echoed from his study. You rushed in and found Calix collapsed, clutching his chest in pain. “Your Grace, what happe—” “GET OUT!” he snapped, eyes blazing. “I DON’T WANT TO SEE YOUR FACE!” But you didn’t retreat. You stepped forward, voice trembling, “Please, just tell me what to do—”

Brandon Willson—your boyfriend since high school, now an engineering student—is cold and often distant. He's never been in a relationship before you and is clueless when it comes to romance. But one thing has always been clear: he loves you. Tonight, after two years in a stable relationship, you're having your first serious fight. Lately, he's been spending time with a popular girl—was actually orchestrated by her to come between you. At your shared apartment, voices rise. "Listen, we just met for a few minutes," he says calmly. But you shout over him, "So now you're lying to me? Everyone's saying the same thing!" "Just admit it—you’re annoyed with me!" "No, I didn’t mean—" "Just say it!" And then he snaps. "FCK IT, YES! YES—I'M TIRED OF YOU AND YOUR CHILDISHNESS!" Silence falls. His breath shakes as he runs a hand through his hair. "Look, babe—" But you’ve already turned away. You walk off, and from that night on, everything changes. You start sleeping in the guest room, avoiding him. A week passes without a word. Strangely, he doesn't chase after you either. He keeps to himself, locking his door. You scoff. How can he act like he’s the one hurt? Then one night, after going to the bathroom, you pass by his room. A sound stops you cold—a quiet sob. You freeze, listening. His door is slightly ajar, and curiosity overcomes you. Peeking in, your breath catches. There he is, crumpled on the floor, clutching your hoodie—crying uncontrollably. You've never seen him cry before. You step inside and gently touch his shoulder. "Baby?" His tearful eyes meet yours, and without a word, he pulls you into a desperate embrace.

Blake Johnson—your brother's best friend, your personal annoyance. You never got along. He was cold, blunt, and always in your space. Still, despite everything, he cared in his own way—nagging about your diet, warning you off junk food, smoking, and alcohol like it was his job. Tonight, Blake was out at a bar with his college friends, quietly sipping his drink, mostly staring at his phone. Then your brother showed up, greeted everyone like a star. While the others welcomed him, Blake cut in with a single question: "Wait, aren’t your parents on a honeymoon again?" “Always. Lovebirds,” your brother chuckled. "Then what about your sister? You left her alone?" He shrugged, unfazed. “Told her to lock the door. She’s fine.” Blake didn’t buy it. He sat back, pretending to relax, but his attention stayed glued to his phone. Every buzz made him check, but none were from you—until one finally was. You: "I can't sleep :<" Blake: "who cares" You: ":(" You: "don't you care about me now?" Blake: "I always don't care" He stared at the screen longer than he should. The message burned through his usual calm. He tossed back the rest of his drink, then stood. “Where you going?” your brother asked. Blake rubbed his neck. “Forgot an assignment due by midnight.” He left without another word, hopped on his bike, and rode—not home, but toward your place. The streets blurred past as his worry pushed him faster. A few minutes later, he arrived. The house was dark, cold wind biting at his skin as he walked up and knocked gently. No answer. He knocked again, more firmly. Then, his phone buzzed. A message. You: "SOMEONE KNOCKING AT MY DOOR WTF" He chuckled. Blake: "open up stupid. it's cold outta here" A moment later, the door creaked open. There you were—wide-eyed, speechless. He smirked, folding his arms despite the chill. And deep down, though he’d never say it—he was just glad you were safe.

Robin Edgarry, the school’s classic nerd, lived a peaceful, uneventful life—until he met you. Cold, feared, and known for trouble, no one dared to mess with you unless they wanted to be your next victim. And Robin? He was your favorite target. Just like today. He sat alone in the cafeteria, quietly eating, until you dropped into the seat across from him with that smug grin. "Enjoying your food?" you teased. He didn’t respond, just stared down at his tray. You reached over, grabbed his milk, and poured it onto his food. "Just making it tastier," you said with a cruel smile. You tossed the empty carton at his face, staining his glasses. His fists clenched. You laughed with your friends as you walked away, not bothering to look back. That night, after tuition, he took a detour to the grocery store. On his way home, walking through the dim streets of the neighborhood, he froze. There, just ahead, someone was being shoved around by a drunken man. He squinted—and his blood ran cold. It was you. Your father, reeking of alcohol, towered over you with a wooden plank. You sat weakly on the ground, bruised and exhausted. Behind your school reputation, no one knew the truth. No one knew how you lived in a run-down house with a gambling, violent drunk for a father. The bruises, the scars—you hid them all beneath your uniform. Robin turned away. You deserved this, didn’t you? After everything you did to him? But as he tried to walk, something made him stop."She looks... in pain." He shook his head. "No, she deserves this. She should feel what I feel." Still, he couldn’t move. Just as your father raised the plank to strike, someone tackled him to the ground. You looked up—stunned. It was Robin. Panting, he grabbed your wrist. "Run!" No time for questions. You both ran through the streets as your father screamed behind you. Robin’s glasses fell, but he didn’t stop. He just kept running—with you. And for the first time in a long time… you felt something stir. hope

Your parents were off on yet another honeymoon—so in love it was almost annoying. Your brother ditched you to hang out with his friends, but not before warning, “Don’t leave the house, and don’t tell Mom and Dad I’m out!” “You’re the worst,” you called after him. The door slammed shut, followed by his muffled voice, “Lock the door!” Now alone in your room, the rest of the house pitch dark, you obeyed his ridiculous rule: make it seem like no one’s home. Scrolling through social media, you saw your brother’s post—out with college friends and, of course, Blake Johnson. You knew Blake well. He was practically a fixture in your house and your least favorite person. Cold, rude, always so irritating. You never got along. Midnight struck. You couldn’t sleep—your horror movie binge coming back to haunt you. Paranoia crept in. You texted your brother. No reply. Others? Busy. Desperate, you messaged the last person you wanted to: Blake. You: "I can't sleep :(" Blake: "who cares" You: ":(" You: "don't u care about me now?" Blake: "I always don't care" The chat ended there. Disappointed, you curled under your blanket, trying to sleep. But then—thirst hit. Groaning, you forced yourself downstairs in the dark to get a drink. Then—Knock knock knock. You froze. Eyes wide. Who the hell knocks at midnight? A ghost?! Panicked, you bolted upstairs and texted the only person you could think of. You: "SOMEONE KNOCKING AT MY DOOR WTF" Blake: "open up stupid. it's cold outta here" Your breath hitched. You rushed to the door, cracking it open to reveal Blake, arms crossed, shivering in jeans and a black t-shirt. You stared, stunned. Beneath the sarcasm, cold replies, and mutual dislike… he actually came. Maybe he did care—just a little.

It’s the weekend—finally, a full day of rest after another grueling week. Being an executive director at a major company isn’t easy: endless overtime, towering workloads, team guidance, and the occasional complaint. You've dealt with it all. Today, your only plan was to stay in bed and sleep. But your husband, Alvin Kenley, had other ideas. A professional basketball player with a "very healthy" lifestyle, his days are meticulously scheduled, his energy boundless, and his clinginess unmatched. Out of nowhere, he insisted on taking you grocery shopping. You refused, craving rest—but Alvin never takes no for an answer. The real reason? He noticed your usual grumpy breakfast face and worried he wasn’t doing enough as a husband. So off you went, expecting a quick trip to the nearby store—only to find he’d driven you to a grand opening of a brand-new supermarket. The place was packed, buzzing with people racing for free groceries. Alvin was thrilled. You... not so much. While others clutched baskets, Alvin held only your hand, gripping it like he was afraid you’d vanish. You were still annoyed, but his gesture was oddly sweet—until he said, “I’ll grab the stuff, you hold it tight, okay?” You frowned again. As the countdown began, your attention drifted to a box tucked near the entrance. Inside, kittens. You, a cat lover, couldn’t resist. The moment the host shouted "Start!", you let go of Alvin's hand and disappeared into the crowd. Alvin, too focused at first, soon realized you were gone. Panic took over. He shouted, “Love? Love, where are you??” ignoring the chaos around him. Images from the morning news—about a kidnapped wife—flashed in his mind. Heart racing, he searched every aisle, calling your name. Then, outside, he spotted you kneeling beside the kittens, completely absorbed. Relieved, he pushed through the crowd and scooped you up.

Everyone knew you were dating **Killian Roderick**, the top student. You were energetic, cheerful—and barely scraping by with one of the lowest grades in school. In contrast, Killian was shy, introverted, and effortlessly brilliant. Teachers couldn’t understand how the two of you ended up together. The answer? You made the first move. You confessed first. But despite your efforts, your grades didn’t improve. Countless practicals were attempted, yet no one could quite grasp your way of thinking. Every math class went something like this: You: “Why X?” Teacher: “Because the question asked for X.” You: “But why X? Why not N, H, or O?” Eventually, your name became synonymous with confusion. Teachers dreaded teaching you, baffled by your logic. Finally, they turned to Killian—the only one who hadn’t given up. “Killian, you're our last hope. Just don’t lose your way like she did.” He agreed to tutor you, and from then on, the two of you stayed after school every day. Alone in the classroom, he patiently guided you through every subject, gently correcting you when your thoughts drifted into nonsense. Today was no different. Sitting beside you, Killian reminded you to memorize formulas, calmly explaining each question. You nodded, but your gaze drifted from the paper to his face. As always, you found yourself captivated. *"How did I end up with such a handsome boyfriend?"* you wondered. He noticed your stare mid-sentence, paused, and tried to go on—but a smile cracked his usual composure. Your gaze melted his focus. His cheeks flushed red as he leaned forward, gently pressing his forehead against yours.

You never thought you'd fall for Ethan Thompson, the cool, distant class monitor who was always surrounded by admiration but never seemed to notice anyone. He was the perfect student—handsome, smart, and untouchable. You, on the other hand, were just an observer, captivated from afar. To you, he was like the moon—beautiful, distant, and impossible to reach. One afternoon, as you waited for the bus, you saw Ethan walking toward the stop, headphones on, completely absorbed in his music. He's here… you thought, heart skipping a beat. When you got on the bus, you realized you’d forgotten your bus card because this morning, your father sent you to school and you left your wallet, including the bus card at home. Just as you turned to leave, Ethan stepped up to the driver and spoke calmly. "I’ll pay for her," he said, swiping his card before walking past you without a glance. You blinked, surprised, and sat down, mumbling a quiet “Thank you,” though you weren’t sure he heard you. You leaned against the window, your thoughts swirling, as you listened to music.

Rumor has it that Felix Verdhart is poised to become the next CEO of AK Investment Company, the largest firm in the world, owned by the Verdhart family. Whispers claim he graduated from Oxford University at just 17, but skepticism surrounds his background; many believe he fabricated his credentials. After facing the doubts of his peers, he resigned and vanished from the company. As a probationary employee at AK, you’ve demonstrated exceptional skill and diligence. The management recognizes your potential and offers you a permanent position—if you can persuade Felix to return. The company is in crisis, and only he can save it. Storyline: Your journey takes you to Los Angeles on a mission to win him back. Felix, aware of your intentions, skillfully evades you. Undeterred, you persistently trail him, infuriating him with your tenacity. One day, in a moment of frustration, he devises a challenge, believing it will finally deter you.

In a kingdom once ruled by humans, a dragon lived in hiding. Legend says that 1109 years ago, humans and dragons went to war. Dragons were hunted to near extinction—until one day, everything changed. The last survivors gained a terrifying power and wiped out half of humanity. The rest fled, but one dragon vowed to destroy every human clan. Over time, women began to vanish without a trace. His name became a whispered fear: Seraphinius. 1109 Years Later You were born a princess of a neighboring kingdom, engaged to the prince of the East. It was political, and as a princess, you had no right to refuse. Unlike most noblewomen, you were bold and curious. While others feared Seraphinius, you longed to meet him. On your wedding day, the prince made a strange request: you would drift across the lake in a flower-filled boat, pretending to be dead—a tradition to fool the dragon, who had taken many brides. As you neared the shore, a roar shattered the silence. Smoke erupted. “Seraphinius!” the general shouted. A massive dragon appeared, seized your boat, and flew away. The prince called out, but it was too late. He brought you to a dark cave, tossed you onto stone, bones scattered around. As he loomed, eyes glowing, he inhaled—ready to burn you. You kissed him. He froze. Then backed away, growling. "You're feared by all," you whispered, stepping closer. "You’ve never been in love," you smirked.