**Episode 1**
Hundreds of lanterns lit the path from the grand castle gates to the palace boulevard, casting a brilliant display of light.
Ribbons and colored gemstones sewn into fabric sparkled under the glow, reflecting the light like stars scattered across velvet. It was a breathtaking sight—one fit for a painting.
Had it not been her own wedding, Sharie might have stood there with her mouth agape in awe.
“Hey. Is that *really* her…?”
“Shh.”
The guests seated at the ceremony whispered among themselves, a low rustle of murmurs laced with hostility.
The air felt charged with menace.
Sharie had to fight not to scan her surroundings with frightened eyes.
She was a defenseless herbivore dropped into the heart of a predator’s den—surrounded on all sides by beasts baring venomous fangs. One moment of carelessness, and she wouldn’t be surprised to feel their teeth sink into her throat.
“Do you, Sharie Rosevin, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, vowing before Gaia the Creator to bind your fates together for life?”
The officiant’s austere voice snapped Sharie back to reality like a blade to silk.
Her lips, painted a deeper red than usual with ceremonial rouge, pressed tightly together before she bit down on them hard.
“…Yes.”
She said the words, but she knew better than anyone:
This marriage was nothing more than a political alliance—an affectionless union of convenience.
The chain of events that led to this moment had begun over fifty years ago.
Back then, while expanding their territories, both the Rabbit Clan and the Snake Clan had discovered a vast stretch of land between their borders: the Sephiros Plain.
Sephiros—a land so fertile, it was said to flow with milk and honey.
Each clan had begun cultivating the plain from the side closest to their own territory. And, as expected, conflict soon followed, escalating until it exploded into full-blown war.
The Snake Clan had always been physically superior—a lineage descended from primeval might.
One might have thought the outcome inevitable. But the Rabbit Clan had a strength of its own.
Their remarkable reproductive ability.
It gave them overwhelming numbers, and those numbers allowed them to keep pace.
With neither side gaining the upper hand, the war dragged on in a bloody stalemate.
—*How long must we spill pointless blood?*
At last, weary from endless battles, the two clans proposed a truce.
The plain would be farmed jointly, and the crops split equally.
—*How can we trust those deceitful snakes not to betray us?*
—*And the conniving rabbits are any better?*
After decades of war, mistrust had taken root too deeply. Neither side was willing to believe in peace without proof.
The solution: a political marriage.
*Marriage means nothing.*
Sharie slowly lowered her gaze.
History was full of examples—alliances strengthened through intermarriage, individuals offered up as pawns in greater political games. She was not the first to be sacrificed this way.
So why did her chest feel so heavy?
Perhaps because this union carried a much graver burden.
“Do you, Caissa Graves, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, vowing before Gaia the Creator to bind your fates together for life?”
Sharie felt the man beside her shift, and instinctively held her breath.
“I do.”
His voice was distinct—low, resonant, devoid of warmth.
*This man…*
This man would be her husband.
Sharie, already tense, swallowed dryly.
The veil that fell to the bridge of her nose blurred her vision, making it difficult to see him clearly. But through a sliver of lace, she glimpsed a tall man with jet-black hair—a figure she’d have to crane her neck to meet at eye level.
Caissa Graves.
Infamous as the cold-blooded tyrant, the ruthless overlord of the Snake Clan.
He was said to have personally slain the very brothers he grew up with.
Even those retainers who dared protest his cruelty met the same end, their blood staining his path to power.
The rumors surrounding him were so grim, even the other clans knew his name.
—*They’re just exaggerated tales. Meet him and you’ll see he’s nothing special.*
Some men had scoffed, feigning bravado.
But Sharie knew the truth.
Because this world… was from the romance novel *Black Bloom and the Gilded Cage*.
And Caissa was the man who would fall in love with the heroine—only to imprison her and drag her into a bleak, tragic end.
*I’m doomed.*
Sharie squeezed her eyes shut and let memories—not of this life, but of her past one—flood in.
—I never had a daughter like you.
Her father’s voice. Cold, bitter.
After her mother died during childbirth, he rarely came home, unwilling or unable to raise a child on his own.
She’d started working part-time at a convenience store, desperate to escape the moldy, damp basement apartment they lived in.
It was during one of her night shifts that she’d first read *Black Bloom and the Gilded Cage*.
The heroine, Olivia, was a noble lady from a prestigious family who was branded a traitor and cast out. She met Caissa, a man who became dangerously obsessed with her, and suffered endlessly under his twisted affection.
The novel’s most horrifying scene—when Olivia tries to escape, only for Caissa to whisper sweetly that he’d turn her into a taxidermied doll just to keep her by his side forever—still haunted her.
*A man like that? I’d never go near him in real life.*
So how had she ended up marrying him?
It was that damned truck.
One early morning, after her shift, she stood at the crosswalk, lost in thought.
*The roads are so empty… probably because of the rain.*
And then—
In the murky dawn, a hulking truck barreled toward her through the mist, its driver oblivious to the red light.
There was a deafening crash. Darkness swallowed the world.
Then light.
—*It’s a girl!*
That was the beginning of her second life.
Unfortunately, this one wasn’t much better than the last.
—*Too much blood loss. Poor Liriensy. Died before she could even hold her baby.*
Sharie had cried at the tragedy, her newborn lungs wailing—but her tears dried quickly when she noticed something odd.
The midwife looked down at her with a twisted grimace—scowling, almost disgusted.
—*This child… she has no tail.*
She hadn’t understood then just how miserable life would be for a rabbit born without a tail.
“And now, we shall proceed with the final step of the ceremony.”
The officiant’s voice pulled her back once more.
Guests with looks of curiosity, contempt, or total indifference surrounded her. Even the officiant himself wore the weary expression of a man eager to be done with his duties.
The ceremony was still underway.
*What’s he thinking right now?*
Sharie Rosevin… a name that never appeared in the original novel.
The moment her engagement to Caissa had been arranged, the story had begun to diverge wildly from anything she remembered.
No one knew what would happen next.
*If I’m lucky,* she tried to tell herself, *maybe I’ll disappear before the real heroine even shows up.*
Or perhaps she’d vanish without a trace.
Her small frame trembled like a sapling in the winter wind.
She had a bad habit of imagining the worst.
“Lord Caissa,”
The officiant offered him a flat glass of wine.
A custom she’d never seen before—clearly a Snake Clan tradition.
Then—
A long, rough hand suddenly covered the back of hers.
His skin was cold, like a wind from the grave. The chill shot down her spine, and she jerked instinctively.
“Please, go first.”
His whisper brushed past her ear, tinged with something like amusement. Was he laughing at her?
*There’s no poison… right?*
This marriage was meant to secure peace.
Even if he did hate her, there was no benefit to killing his bride here and now.
Trying to calm her nerves, she reached for the wine he offered.
**Crash—!**
The glass slipped from her trembling fingers and shattered with a piercing crack.
The atmosphere froze.
Some guests frowned. Others began to murmur.
Dozens of eyes turned toward her all at once, burning holes through her skull.
“Click.”
Someone clicked their tongue loudly.
She couldn’t tell who—maybe the officiant, maybe a guest, maybe even her soon-to-be husband.
If it *was* Caissa Graves…
She’d be in serious trouble.
After all, this was a man known to behead his subordinates for as little as irritating him.
Would she be any different?
Would he call her hands useless and cut them off for dropping a single glass?
She stood frozen, her hands shaking uncontrollably.
“…Again.”
His deep voice broke the silence, calm and composed.
He took a new glass from the officiant without hesitation.
But this time, he didn’t hand it to her.
He downed it in one gulp.
*What the…?*
She looked up in confusion.
Suddenly, a firm arm wrapped around her waist.
“Hhn—!”
Through the thin silk of her dress, she felt the solid strength of his grip.
Then—his lips, soft and warm, pressed against hers.
Before she could register what was happening, he tilted his head, and their mouths opened into a kiss.
“Nngh…!”
His sharp jaw tightened, drawing her closer, and something hot and wet slipped into her mouth.
*How deep is he going?!*
Sharie nearly moaned aloud—unable to hold back.
