Y/n sat alone, watching the countryside blur past in shades of amber and gray. The letter crumpled in their lap had been read so many times the ink had begun to smear.

You are to be wed. The Kudo family has agreed to the arrangement.

The words had felt like a sentence. Not a promise, not a hope—just a cold, final declaration. And now the carriage rolled ever closer to a future Y/n had no say in.

Through the window, the estate emerged. It was vast and beautiful in the way a mountain was beautiful—imposing, indifferent, and impossible to ignore. Iron gates swung open to receive them.