The freezing water of the river was the last thing I felt. My lungs were screaming, my heart was stopping, and then—snap.
The cold was gone.
Suddenly, I wasn't drowning in a dark river. I was standing on solid marble. My lungs weren't full of water; they were full of the thick, cloying scent of incense and old lilies.
My head was still ringing—the ghost of the metal rod pulsing against my skull—but the blurred shadows of the bridge had been replaced by a blinding, magical light.
Am I dead? Is this the lobby for the afterlife?
I looked down. My hands were white, delicate, and draped in heavy, shimmering silk.
I looked up. Thousands of eyes were boring into me. Humans. Elves. People in clothes that looked like they cost more than a hospital wing back on Earth.
Then there was the man in front of me. Tall, terrifyingly handsome, and radiating a coldness that made the river I just died in feel like a hot spring.
I had no idea where I was. I didn't know who these people were. But I knew that look in their eyes. I'd seen it in every boardroom and political rally on Earth. It was the look of vultures waiting for a carcass to stop twitching.
My political instincts hit the 'Override' button before my brain could even process the fact that my ears felt weirdly long.
Don't show weakness. Don't let them see you're lost.
"Your Highness?" the High Priest prompted again.
I blinked, the metallic taste of blood in my mouth—real blood, from a tongue I'd apparently just bitten—grounding me.
Right. I died for politics once already. I straightened my back, a sharp, unhinged glint appearing in my eyes.
If the universe wants me to be a Princess, fine. But if anyone thinks I'm going to be a quiet little pawn again… they've got another thing coming.
"I do," I said.
A thin ring of light glows beneath us and slowly fades away.
My voice was steady. A total lie, but a convincing one. The tension in the room snapped. A collective sigh of relief swept through the cathedral.
Step one: Don't get executed on day one. Check.
---
Later that evening…
The grand doors of the bridal suite slammed shut with a heavy, final thud.
I stood in the middle of a room that looked like it had been decorated by someone with an unlimited budget and a serious gold-leaf fetish.
Lucian Aetherion—my "husband," apparently—stood by the window. He didn't look at me. He didn't even acknowledge I was a living creature.
"The marriage is sealed," he said, his voice as sharp as a glass shard. "You have your safety. The Elves have their alliance. Do not expect anything more from me."
He walked toward the door, his movements fluid and dangerous.
"I have my own quarters," he added, his hand on the huge handle. "Sleep. Or don't. It makes no difference to me."
He didn't wait for a reply. He walked out, and the massive doors shut with a heavy thud.
I stood there for a heartbeat, then I let out a breath I'd been holding since I was on that bridge. My legs gave out, and I slumped onto the edge of a bed that felt like sitting on a cloud.
"Wow," I whispered, my hands finally starting to shake. "He's a piece of work. At least I don't have to worry about small talk."
I scrambled over to a massive vanity mirror. I needed to see what I'd become. I leaned in, and my jaw dropped.
The girl in the mirror was gorgeous—silver hair, stormy eyes, and skin that looked like it had never seen a day of stress in its life.
Then I saw the ears.
"Oh my god," I poked the tip of one. It twitched. "I'm a literal Christmas ornament. I have... elven aerodynamics."
But something was missing. I'd spent my few free hours on Earth binge-reading webtoons to escape the stress of politics.
I knew exactly how this worked. There's always a screen. A glowing, semi-transparent blue box that tells you your stats and gives you quests.
"Okay," I whispered, looking around the empty room. "If I'm in a fantasy world, I need my UI."
I cleared my throat and stood up straight.
"System?"
Silence. Only the crackle of the fireplace answered me.
"Status Window!" I tried again, louder. Nothing.
"Inventory? Open! Screen! Ding-ding?" I even made a bell sound with my mouth. Still nothing.
Maybe it was a voice command from a specific series?
"Log in! Game start! Calibar! ...Bankai?"
I felt like an idiot, but the desperation was real. I took a deep breath, extended my hand forward toward the empty air, and put on my best 'Dark Overlord' face.
"Arise!"
I waited for the shadows to move, for the ground to shake, or at least for a little ding sound.
Nothing. Just me, standing in a wedding dress, pointing at a vase of lilies like a crazy person.
"Ugh, seriously?" I dropped my hand, my face burning with embarrassment. "Is this a budget transmigration? Did I get the basic package with no display?"
[ Are you done? ]
A blue screen flickered into existence right in front of my nose. It didn't just appear; it kind of shimmied into view, looking suspiciously smug.
I jumped back, tripping over the hem of my gown.
[ I was waiting to see how many more embarrassing things you'd shout. I personally enjoyed 'Bankai.' Very nostalgic. ]
I straightened slowly, staring at the floating blue box like it had personally offended me. "You! You were watching me do that on purpose?!"
[ Obviously. It's not every day I get a Host who tries to summon a Zanpakuto in a Regency-style bridal suite. ]
It was exactly like the manhwas—translucent, glowing, and currently filled with text that seemed to be judging my soul.
[ System Initialized. ]
[ Host: Celine Yue (Currently: Cyrina Vaeloria) ]
[ Class: Princess / Professional Chaos Goblin ]
[ Current Status: Married to an Iceberg. ]
"You have a lot of attitude for a floating window," I hissed, poking at the screen. My finger went straight through it. "And what's with the Status? 'Professional Chaos Goblin' is not a job title!"
[ With the way you just yelled 'Arise' at a flower pot, I'd say it's a lifestyle, Celine. ]
I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "Fine. Whatever. Just tell me—why am I here? And why am I an Elf married to a human guy who looks like he'd execute me for sneezing too loudly?"
The screen flickered, the blue light pulsing.
[ Reasons are expensive, Celine. But since I'm in a good mood, here's a free tip for surviving the next ten minutes: ]
I leaned in. "Ten minutes? What happens in ten—"
A new line of text scrolled across the window in blood-red letters.
[ SURVIVAL TIP: Tame the strongest knight alive. Do it now, or you won't live long enough to see tomorrow's breakfast. ]
"Tame? What do you mean 'tame'?"
The screen vanished with a soft pop.
"Hey! Get back here!"
I turned around, the words dying in my throat.
Standing by the balcony doors was a massive shadow. A man in black armor, so tall he blocked out the moonlight. He didn't bow. He didn't move.
He was just standing there, casually wiping fresh, steaming blood off a heavy blade with a white silk handkerchief.
His eyes locked onto mine. They weren't the eyes of a knight. They were the eyes of a butcher.
My heart stopped.
So much for a peaceful afterlife.