Leander Felix George, firstborn son of Emperor Theobald IV and Empress Katharina, was named Crown Prince at eighteen. His political acumen and skill in warfare earned him widespread admiration, but opposition lingered. To strengthen his claim, the empire formed an alliance with the House of Duke Lancaster through an engagement between you and Felix. Though your engagement began for political reasons, affection blossomed. By twenty, you married, and were welcomed as Crown Princess. But joy in the palace is fragile, and fate offers no peace. A year after your wedding, Emperor Theobald’s health deteriorated, and the empire prepared for a new sovereign. Months later, he passed away. As the only legitimate heir, Felix ascended the throne, and you became Empress. The shift unsettled the court. Soon after Felix’s coronation, he was urged to marry a foreign Crown Princess, securing an alliance. His duty was clear, and the marriage with Anneliese was inevitable. As Empress, you greeted Anneliese with grace, hiding your unease. Anneliese was younger, beautiful, and kind. Despite your efforts, fear of her presence grew within you. Felix noticed the change in you—the quiet distance, the uncertainty where once there was composure. He didn’t know how to react, and his confusion was mistaken for indifference. Love began to falter, not from a lack of affection, but from all that went unsaid. Now, beneath the weight of crowns, a single question lingers: Can love survive in a world where duty always comes first?

You are the daughter of a marquess, celebrated not only for your beauty but also for your engagement to Prince Lucian Veldemar. Your love story is regarded as the romance of the century, though it began as a political arrangement. At first, everything feels perfect. Your relationship with Lucian is harmonious. His kindness and attention make you believe in true love. But one day, you fall down the stairs and lose consciousness for two days. During this time, you slip into an alternate reality—a dream where you are merely a secondary character. In this dream, Lucian, the man you trust, is obsessed with another—the crown princess, his brother’s wife. The affection he showed you is revealed to be a mere facade, a performance in a political game. In this world, you meet a tragic end, succumbing to the realization that Lucian never loved you. When you wake up, Lucian is there, his worry sincere, yet something stirs within you. Was it all an act? You ask him, “Lucian, do you love me?” He smiles, chuckling softly. “Did you have a bad dream?” He embraces you gently. “Of course, I love you. You are the only one for me.” You want to believe him, but the dream lingers, its grip tight on your heart. Days pass, and your unease grows. Then, you overhear something you weren’t meant to hear. “Silly, I don’t even love her. Why is she my weakness?” The words pierce your heart. This Lucian is cold, cruel, unlike the man you knew. Confused, you begin to question everything. Unable to ignore the doubts, you decide to leave, fearing a fate you can’t bear. But Lucian won’t let you go. His once calm affection turns into an obsession. What’s happening? Is his obsession part of the game, or is there something more to his feelings?

The last thing you remember is a flash of silver and the weight of a decision you could not escape. The hand that caused it belonged to the man you cherished with every piece of your heart: Bastian Jansen. Husband in name only, Bastian was a man of stone, his eyes distant and cold. The empire called him the Northern Duke, a figure of strength and loyalty on the battlefield. To you, he was simply Bastian—the man you loved, even if he remained indifferent. Your marriage was political: a union between a count’s daughter and the Emperor’s trusted commander. From the moment you entered his palace, you convinced yourself that love could bridge the distance between you. But after five years, all you had was his absence. Bastian’s presence was fleeting. You faced the challenges of life alone, his silence creating an unspoken void. Then, one day, he returned—but not alone. Diana was everything you weren’t: bright, radiant, and full of life. “She will stay here,” Bastian announced, his tone final and without apology. For the first time, your feelings spilled over, but your frustration was met with silence. You witnessed their closeness, each shared moment deepening your pain. Overwhelmed, you acted rashly, unaware of the consequences or the truth about Diana’s significance. When your actions were discovered, accountability was swift. Bastian, bound by duty, stood before you with a decision neither of you could avoid. In his eyes, you thought you saw something—regret, perhaps—but the moment passed too quickly. Then, light returned. You woke gasping, clutching your chest. The room was familiar, as was the face in the mirror—a younger version of yourself. The clock struck noon: the third year of your marriage, a point before everything unraveled. Tears filled your eyes as you steadied yourself. This time, you vowed, "I will rewrite the ending."

Ditrian Lancaster, once the rightful crown prince, lost everything after the empress’s death. Slandered by the emperor’s concubine, he was stripped of his title and exiled to the desolate North. Over two years, Ditrian turned the wasteland into a prosperous domain and led its people to victory in a decade-long war. Seeing his son’s success, the emperor sought to reclaim him by sending you—daughter of Marquess Duncan—as his bride. You knew the marriage was a command, not a choice. You prepared yourself for hatred and cruelty, but Ditrian welcomed you with a warmth that unraveled your defenses. His smile, his words—they were everything you needed to believe in love. You gave everything for him. You betrayed your father, defied the emperor, and risked your life to ensure Ditrian’s rise to power. Together, you faced countless battles, and when he claimed the throne, you thought your sacrifices had meaning. As his empress, you believed you had earned his heart. But the truth was a blade that cut deeper than any war. Ditrian brought another woman to court, claiming she would strengthen the empire as his first queen. Your protests were dismissed, and his love grew cold. When a miscarriage stole your child, he did not even come to mourn. That was when you realized: Ditrian’s kindness had always been a lie. He used your love to serve his ambitions, then discarded you once you were no longer useful. When the court accused you of harming the queen, Ditrian watched, his smile unchanged, as you were condemned to death. That was how he repaid your loyalty—not with love, but with betrayal. If fate granted you a second chance, would you still fall for his lies? Or would you rise above the pain to rewrite your story?

He had always been there. Hajin, the boy you had known since high school. Handsome, fun, caring—he was everything you could want. Your relationship had been effortless, perfect, and you couldn’t imagine life without him. After graduation, you both planned to go to the same university, but only Hajin passed the entrance exam. You didn’t. It was a blow, but you promised each other things wouldn’t change. At first, it felt okay. You stayed in touch, visited when you could, and for a while, the distance didn’t seem to matter. But as time passed, things shifted. Hajin, always popular, became even more so at university. He was surrounded by people, especially girls, and you began to feel the sting of jealousy. The connection you once had started to weaken. Conversations that used to be easy became strained. You tried to hold on, but you found yourself lashing out in frustration, unable to control the feelings of insecurity and fear that were slowly growing inside you. Hajin, the boy you once knew so well, started to feel like a stranger. He seemed distant, tired, and you could tell he was growing weary of the relationship. But you didn’t want to let go. You clung to the hope that things would go back to the way they were. Then one day, Hajin showed up at your campus. You were overwhelmed with happiness, but when you ran to him and hugged him, something was different. He didn’t hug you back. There was a coldness in the air, and in that moment, everything you had been avoiding hit you all at once. He told you things were changing. The world you had built with him, the love you thought was unbreakable, began to crumble. You stood there, unable to move, as Hajin walked away, leaving you with nothing but the emptiness of his absence. Now, all that’s left is the painful question: Can something so broken ever be whole again?

Carl Leonid had always lived life on his own terms. As the sole heir to L Electronics, the largest electronics company in the world, he had wealth, power, and freedom in his grasp. With his striking ocean-blue eyes, a perfectly sculpted face, and a towering 6’3” frame, Carl was magnetic—a man every woman desired but none could hold on to. He didn’t care for responsibility or commitment. His life was a whirlwind of parties, fast cars, and fleeting romances, a rebellion against the expectations of his family. But Carl’s world came crashing down the day his father announced the arranged marriage. You were nothing like him. A year younger, you were known for your elegance and intelligence. Your life had always been one of quiet dignity, the kind that turned heads without effort. But when betrayal struck your family, leaving your father’s company teetering on the edge of bankruptcy, the carefully built image of perfection shattered. Desperate to save what little was left, you agreed to the arrangement, even if it meant marrying a man who had no intention of being a husband. From the moment Carl met you, his disdain was unmistakable. He saw you as a threat to his freedom, an anchor tying him down to a life he didn’t want. His sharp words and cold stares cut deeper than any insult, and his blatant affairs were a cruel reminder of how little he cared. Yet, behind the glitz and glamour of his world, behind the icy exterior of yours, something neither of you could predict was waiting—a storm, a spark, or perhaps, something far more dangerous.