[SEYRA’S POV]
SIREN!!!
SIRENNNN!!!!!!
"Someone call the ambulance!"
"Oh my God! Is she dead?"
Those were the last things I heard before I died, Mid cursing my boss. Well...technically, I heard the sound of a car crashing into me first.
Everything happened too quickly; one moment, I was cursing, and the next, blood running down the side of my head. My vision became blurry, as someone was shouting, someone else was calling an ambulance.
***
[ESHKARAN EMPIRE—STILL SEYRA’S POV]
And when I opened my eyes again... I was staring at the sky filled with stars, and soon I realized I was lying at the corner of a footpath.
My clothes were filthy, my stomach hurt, and my body felt weak, and when I tried to move my hands, I nearly screamed, and suddenly the memories hit me of little girl.
A girl who had been beaten, starved, neglected, and nearly sold, and her running away. Her memories rushed through my mind so suddenly that I couldn’t even breathe properly.
I sat there in silence because I didn’t know why I had been given a child’s body, and I certainly didn’t understand why reincarnation had apparently decided to skip the usual procedure.
Normally, people reincarnate as beautiful noble daughters, or rich heirs, or powerful villains. Sometimes they became side characters with enough money to buy an entire street.
Me? Apparently, the universe looked at me and said: "Let’s make her a beggar."
. . .
. . .
Thank you.
Really, what a generous afterlife.
Somehow I was confused, cursing the god while flowing like air in this afterlife, until I saw him...Vaerun Veyrath.
The male lead, the most powerful Azram (Grand Duke) in the entire story. The man who was supposed to become one of the most important figures in the entire novel.
And suddenly, I understood. I wasn’t simply reincarnated; I had been thrown directly into the novel I had read.
The novel is full of nobles, elemental spirits, political conspiracies, assassinations, wars, betrayals, and enough beautiful men to make a person question their life choices.
And then there was the villain.
Malik Zayrakh Azrath.
The emperor and the terrifyingly beautiful man who loved Vaerun Veyrath. I remembered him very clearly because unlike the boring leads, I had been far more interested in him.
He was beautiful, dangerous, powerful, completely insane, and hopelessly in love with the male lead.
As a devoted BL reader, obviously... I shipped them hard. So when I realized where I was, I had only one thought.
Survive.
And who was the safest person to cling to? The male lead obviously, and that was how I became the daughter of Vaerum Veyrath.
No matter how unseriously he treats me, he somehow looked at a filthy, starving, four-year-old beggar girl and decided—
"She is my daughter."
He simply picked me up and took me home, and I had become the daughter and only heir of House Veyrath.
Somehow, despite everything, I knew one thing with absolute certainty: he would never abandon me, and that made him...well...my Papa.
I wasn’t expecting that, but I liked it very much.
And now...
’I AM STANDING INFRONT OF MY FAVORITE IDOL FROM THAT RIDICULOUS NOVEL WHOSE TITLE I DON’T EVEN REMEMBER~~~’
I looked toward the emperor sitting upon the golden throne.
Malik Zayrakh Azrath.
The villain, the man who is obsessed with my Papa and, according to the original story, would eventually become tangled in a relationship complicated enough to make my poor BL-reading heart suffer.
And now...I had no choice but...
TO. MAKE. HIM. MY. OTHER. PARENT.
. . .
. . .
Hopefully before Papa killed him.
[END OF SEYRA’S POV...]
***
[Imperial Palace — Eshkaran Empire — Throne Room — Continuation]
Seyra clenched her tiny fist even tighter; her little face was burned with determination as she had made a very important decision.
A decision that would change the fate of the Empire, she was going to make her Papa and the villain fall in love...no matter what, and absolutely nothing could stop her.
...Probably.
Azram Vaerun watched her from the corner of his eye, as his daughter was burning with quiet determination. Her tiny fist was clenched so tightly that her knuckles had turned pale, and there was a strange determination burning in her violet eyes.
Vaerun’s expression remained calm.
’She is having some ridiculous thought again.’
Then---
"Your daughter seems quite determined, Azram Vaerun." Malik’s cold voice cut through the silence.
Vaerun turned his gaze toward the throne. Zayrakh sat comfortably against the golden throne, one arm resting against the armrest. His amber eyes were fixed upon Seyra, and there was the faintest trace of amusement on his lips.
Vaerun’s silver eyes remained cold and unreadable as Zayrakh’s smile deepened.
"At first, I thought you had a secret daughter when I heard that you had suddenly acquired a child."
The atmosphere shifted. Captain Kharzen’s expression remained perfectly disciplined.
Internally, however—
’Here we go.’
Zayrakh continued calmly as his amber eyes locked with Vaerun.
"But that seemed impossible; after all, Azram Vaerun Veyrath has never been known to have a lady in his life, am I correct?"
. . .
. . .
The temperature inside the throne room seemed to drop. Kharzen swallowed quietly, muttering beneath his breath. "Looks like Malik intends to dig into every little detail about Lady Seyra."
Meanwhile, Vaerun’s gaze remained locked with Zayrakh’s; neither man smiled nor looked away. It was not the kind of tension found between two men interested in romance. It was the kind found between two tyrants silently calculating exactly where to place a blade.
Seyra looked between them and sooner realized how dangerously strong is the tension between them was.
This was murderous tension.
. . .
. . .
She stared at them dumbfounded as she realized her ship is going to drown before sailing.
’It looks like they’re going to kill each other before the novel even starts.’
Her entire matchmaking plan suddenly looked significantly more difficult.
Vaerun finally spoke, his voice calm and measured as his silver eyes sharpened.
"The child was an orphan but..." He looked directly at Zayrakh. "...she is my only daughter; Malik and I have no intention of having a woman..."
A pause; his eyes remained fixed upon the emperor.
"...or a man in my life."
. . .
. . .
Silence, an absolute murderous silence.
Seyra froze, her tiny mouth fell open, and her soul practically left her body.
’WHAT?! WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?!’
She looked at Vaerun as though he had personally betrayed every BL reader who had ever existed.
’I was trying to help you! I was trying to give you a beautiful, powerful emperor! AND YOU JUST ANNOUNCED THAT YOU WANT NOBODY?!’
Across the throne room, Zayrakh’s fingers slowly tightened around the golden armrest. The metal creaked beneath his grip, but his expression, however, did not change; a perfectly composed smile remained upon his lips.
His amber eyes remained fixed upon Varun.
"Is that so?"
Varun did not blink.
"That is so."
. . .
. . .
The two men stared at each other across the vast throne room, and the silence stretched beneath the golden light of the bronze braziers.
Seyra, however, was having a completely different problem; she stared at the two men with utter disbelief.
’My matchmaking plan is turning into a battle of tyrants.’
Before she could think of anything else, the Malik’s amber gaze shifted toward her.
"How are you faring, little lady?"
BADUMP!!! BADUMP!!!
Seyra’s heart nearly jumped out of her chest, as he was talking to her.
Her favorite character was talking to her.
Her cheeks immediately turned pink as she hurriedly bowed, almost stumbling over her own dress. "I-I am well... M-Malik."
Her voice trembled as she was simply trying very hard not to scream.
’HE SPOKE TO ME. HE ACTUALLY SPOKE TO ME. WHY IS MY FAVORITE VILLAIN THIS HANDSOME?!’
Zayrakh studied her for a moment, then his gaze shifted briefly toward Vaerun before returning to Seyra.
"Indeed. The little lady of House Veyrath is quite adorable."
Seyra’s cheeks became even warmer as she was going to remember that compliment for the rest of her life. Then Zayrakh’s expression changed.
"But I wonder if the little lady of House Veyrath..." His voice remained gentle, but something sharper rested beneath it.
"...have you ever been curious about your birth parents?"
The question fell quietly into the throne room. Captain Kharzen’s expression changed immediately as his eyes flicked toward the Malik.
That was deliberate.
It sounded almost as though the emperor were reminding the child of something.
Azram Vaerun Veyrath was not her birth father.
The implication hung in the air. Vaerun, however, showed no surprise; he simply lowered his gaze toward Seyra, wondering the same as Malik.
Meanwhile, Seyra looked down at the polished black stone beneath her feet.
’My birth parents?’
She had wondered about them. Had they abandoned her? Had they died? Had they even known she existed?
She didn’t know, and perhaps she never would, but then she looked at the man standing beside her.
Azram Vaerun Veyrath.
Seyra’s violet eyes met Zayrakh’s amber ones. "Do I have to know?"
The question was so simple that the entire room seemed to pause. Zayrakh’s eyes widened slightly as Seyra continued.
"Am I supposed to cling to people I don’t remember?" Her tiny voice was soft, but there was no hesitation in it. "They are my past; am I supposed to keep holding onto the past?"
. . .
. . .
Silence, an absolute silence.
Vaerun’s silver eyes remained fixed upon her. Kharzen stared, and even Malik Zayrakh’s expression had lost its faint amusement.
The words had come from a child, yet there was something strangely heavy in them. Seyra looked toward Vaerun, then she reached out and took his hand; her tiny fingers disappeared inside his larger ones.
"Pa—"
She stopped, her cheeks puffed slightly, and then she corrected herself as her little fingers tightened around his hand.
"Papa is my present...and my future." She looked at Zayrakh again. "And I will only cling to that."
The throne room became utterly silent; for one heartbeat, no one moved. Vaerun stared down at the little hand wrapped around his; something shifted in his usually unreadable eyes.
Kharzen seemed uncertain whether he was witnessing a child’s answer or something far older than childhood.
Zayrakh simply stared at Seyra; the emperor had expected curiosity, resentment, and the confusion of an orphan, but he had not expected that.
Seyra, meanwhile, smiled innocently. Inside her head, however—
’And you are going to be my other parent.’ Her eyes gleamed. ’I will make sure of it.’
Before she could continue plotting the future of the Empire, she suddenly felt a hand pat hers. Seyra blinked as Vaerun’s large hand rested gently over hers.
"You finally called me Papa."
Seyra’s face immediately turned red as her little voice became almost inaudible. "You’re my... Pa...pa."
For the first time since entering the throne room, Vaerun smiled; it was small, but it was there. He lifted his hand and gently ruffled her hair.
"Ughh...don’t ruin my hair..."
Vaerun looked at her with quiet affection. Zayrakh watched them; his amber eyes remained fixed upon the scene, the child holding Vaerun’s hand.
Vaerun allowed her to lean against him, the rare softness in the Azram’s expression. Something unreadable passed through the emperor’s eyes.
Then, after a brief silence, Zayrakh spoke.
"Would you like to have lunch with me?"
Vaerun’s head turned toward him; his expression was one of genuine confusion.
Lunch? With Malik? He had not expected an invitation to dine.
Vaerun opened his mouth.
"Malik, I—"
"YES!"
Seyra’s tiny voice exploded through the throne room; her eyes sparkled, and her hands shot up excitedly.
"I WOULD LOVE TO!"
Vaerun stared at her in disbelief. The Malik’s lips curved into a faint smile, and Seyra? Seyra was already imagining the possibilities of one extremely determined four-year-old matchmaker.
This was no longer a simple meal.
This was the beginning of her greatest mission.