[Prologue]

“My baby, you’re here?”

I greeted the man who chose to enter through the window instead of using the perfectly functional door. Though I called him “My baby,” he was actually a tall man, only two years younger than me.

No matter when or where, he always managed to appear out of nowhere and find his way to me.

‘It’s a special day, so the palace security should be tight. How did he get in?’

“I teleported using a magic circle, like last time.”

At my words, he approached soundlessly, his expression unreadable.

Then, with a snap of his fingers, he placed a magnificent bouquet of golden flowers in my arms.

“…It’s not like I’m particularly congratulating you on your coming-of-age ceremony or anything.”

‘Wait, these are made of gold!’

At first glance, I thought they were roses, but upon closer inspection, they were actually crafted from real gold.

‘Damn! I really raised him well. If he does the same for the heroine, they’re definitely going to end up together.’

As usual, I expected him to place a kiss on the back of my hand… but he didn’t.

Instead—

“…Choose me at the coming-of-age ceremony, Nyx.”

Locking eyes with me, his gaze deep and unwavering, he lowered his lips to the stigma on the inside of my wrist.

Chup—

The soft sensation of his lips, the damp heat of his breath—it made the stigma feel like it was burning.

‘What the hell? My baby, what’s going on?’

I was utterly bewildered by his unexpected behavior.

But it seemed that kissing my stigma alone wasn’t enough for him. Without hesitation, he closed the distance between us and placed his hand firmly next to mine.

A scent—both sweet and cool—spread through my lungs.

The crisp rustling of my pristine ceremonial robes reached my ears, a sign that they had become wrinkled in the process.

I couldn’t escape, so all I could do was inhale sharply. My right hand ended up against his left chest. Not of my own volition—he was the one who took it there.

Through my fingertips, I felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Before I could even process it, he gently cupped my chin, tilting it upward so that I was forced to meet his gaze.

“…Look at me. I can only bloom for you.”

‘Why… why is he saying this to me?’

His pink irises deepened, reminiscent of blooming geraniums.

His eyes—more precious and radiant than anything found in nature—captivated me. In their depths, I saw my own reflection.

He leaned in closer. Just a little more, and our lips would touch.

“…I love you.”

His voice—melodic yet deep—was enough to make me forget his beauty for a moment. But then his gaze, thick with sincerity, pulled me right back in.

It was as if he was pleading with me to recognize his feelings.

‘Why… why is he saying the heroine’s lines to me?’

This was my favorite character—the one who, in the original story, had given up everything to love the heroine.

And yet, he had just recited the exact same lines… to me. Not a single word was different.

I must have looked strange because he gave me a crooked smile.

“…What? Is it strange that the little one you raised so lovingly turned out like this?”

“……”

“…Too bad. I’ve been waiting for this day.”

His words, teetering between pure devotion and dangerous obsession, pierced straight through my heart.

Had there been magic in that kiss? My stigma, which normally shouldn’t feel anything, was now burning as if it had been branded.

When did it start? When did he begin loving me? Did he truly love me instead of the heroine?

I dug through my memories, searching for the moment it all began.

And then—I recalled the time when I first possessed this body.

I was thirteen years old.