As I returned to my room, I couldn't stop thinking about that man's voice. It echoed in my mind like a haunting melody, laced with mystery and something inexplicably familiar. I should've paid more attention. Maybe if I had listened a little longer, I could have caught his name—at least a hint of who he was. But no, I was too caught up in my own frustrations. Now, all I could do was dwell on the fact that I had let that moment slip through my fingers.
"Ugh, I'm so stupid," I muttered under my breath, throwing myself onto my bed. My silk sheets crinkled beneath me as I stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. Who was he? And why did his voice feel so... important?
A sudden knock on my door pulled me out of my reverie. My body tensed instinctively. I knew that knock. It was firm yet not impatient, a calculated knock that demanded attention but not in a desperate way. My father.
I sighed, already dreading the conversation that was about to unfold. I didn't even have to guess what it was about. The wedding. It was always about the wedding.
Dragging myself up from the bed, I smoothed out my dress before walking to the door. As I pulled it open, I was met with a sight that made me pause. My father was smiling—beaming, even. A rare sight.
Something was off.
"My dear daughter," he said, his tone warm yet laced with authority. "The man you are going to marry is quite a remarkable individual. A great man, indeed." His eyes glinted with something akin to pride. "And quite handsome, I must say."
Handsome? Well, at least he wasn't ugly. That was a small relief. But that didn't mean he wasn't old. Or cruel. Or worse—both.
I forced a smile, masking the irritation bubbling beneath the surface. "That's... good to know," I replied, my voice coated in false enthusiasm.
My father seemed satisfied with my reaction, so he continued. "Today, you will go pick out your wedding dress and arrange for a makeup artist. The wedding will take place soon, and after that, you will move in with your husband immediately."
My fingers clenched into the fabric of my dress. Move in with him? So soon? It wasn't like I had much of a choice, but hearing it stated so plainly made my stomach churn.
But then, he added something that made my entire world pause.
"Oh, and one more thing," he said, almost as an afterthought. "Your fiancé refused to disclose his last name. He insisted you would find out only after the marriage."
I blinked. "What?" My voice came out sharper than I intended. "You don't know his last name?"
My father simply chuckled, as if it were amusing. "He's a man of mystery, it seems. But his first name is Keyser. Keyser Ace."
Keyser.
The name rolled through my mind like a whisper in the wind, leaving me feeling more unsettled than before. Who was this man? Why keep his full name hidden?
Later that afternoon, I set out to find a wedding dress, my mind a complete haze. The gown, the accessories, the venue—none of it mattered to me. My mind was elsewhere, trapped in an endless loop of questions I had no answers to.
Keyser.
Who could he be?