From Cursed Widow to the Serpent King's Obsession

Ever since Her Majesty the Queen fell gravely ill, the entire dragon realm had been teetering on the brink of collapse.

In that precarious moment, it was I who held the throne together, heartbroken yet unyielding.

I depleted my magic without reservation to repair the realm's protective barriers, working through endless nights to brew life-sustaining elixirs for the Queen.

Yet when the Dragon Legion finally drove back the abyssal demons, what awaited me wasn't victory—it was a fatal blade.

My magic was shredded apart. The soul core in my chest was ripped out by a pair of familiar hands.

In my final moments, I saw the face of the one holding the knife.

My newly wedded husband, Drystan.

And beside him, pulled tight against his chest, was my half-sister Vespera.

"You're brilliant, Vespera." Drystan turned the faintly glowing core over in his palm. "A single forged love letter, and this fool willingly died defending our dying realm. Now even her core is mine."

Vespera nestled against him, emerald eyes glittering with greed. "Once you absorb this power, we'll return to the throne together. You'll still be the Empire's Crown Prince, and I'll wear the Crown Princess's coronet. As is only right."

Amid this sickening pledge of betrayal, I drew my last breath.

When I opened my eyes again, cold gray stone vaulting stared back at me.

I had returned to the day news of Drystan's death in battle reached the capital.

One glance toward the corner of the great hall told me everything.

That man stood there wearing a cold iron mask, posing as my dear sister Vespera's sworn personal knight.

You want to drain me dry? Steal my soul core?

Dream on.

"Nymeria, this is Drystan's final letter to you." The King placed a blood-stained parchment before me.

This once-formidable monarch trembled now, unable to control his shaking hands. Tears carved paths down his weathered face.

His gaze fixed on the heavy obsidian coffin dominating the center of the hall, as though all life had been drained from him overnight.

The ancient dragon bloodline had always suffered under a cruel curse of infertility. Even seated on the throne, he'd managed only this one son.

And now that sole heir had not only left after the wedding a few days ago, but this aging father would bury his own son.

I stood motionless on the marble steps.

I stared at the parchment, ice in my eyes and hidden triumph in my heart.

I knew better than anyone what those words said.

Drystan had written in blood, with twisted, trembling strokes: [I swore to grow old with you, and I have broken that vow. If souls have an afterlife, I will cross the River of the Dead to be with you forever.]

In my previous life, this poignant declaration had shattered me completely. I'd swallowed every bitter tear and shouldered the collapsing realm alone.

Until my dying moment, when brutal truth finally emerged—Vespera had stood behind him, guiding his wrist, dictating every word.

"I know Nymeria too well." Her smug voice still echoed in my memory. "No woman can resist a tragic hero's deathbed vow. One letter, and she'll guard your throne like a loyal hound."

Now, facing this performance of dual betrayal once more, cold nausea churned in my gut.

My gaze sliced toward the tall, silent shadow behind Vespera.

Everyone in the hall saw him as merely a faceless knight accompanying my sister.

But I knew. Beneath that cold mask stood Crown Prince Drystan himself, the man who should be lying in that coffin.

He'd faked his death to escape, lurking like a rat in Vespera's shadow, carrying on an affair with his sister-in-law while the Empire crumbled.

Now he watched the hall's grief like a bystander, cold and detached.

"Nymeria." Vespera lifted her skirts and approached, emerald eyes brimming with fake tears. "Please, open it. Drystan thought only of you in his final moments. Let us hear his devotion, so Her Majesty may know her son departed without regret."

Instantly, every noble's gaze converged on me.

Crystal clear. Vespera was backing me into a corner, weaponizing the entire court against me.

Once the High Council saw this letter, they'd believe Drystan had loved me deeply.

If I abandoned my marriage vows under these circumstances, I'd become the realm's most heartless monster, bringing eternal disgrace upon my family.

The Queen's lips parted, but no words came. This powerful woman desperately wanted to see her son's final message.

In the suffocating silence, a garrison commander burst through the doors.

Mud-covered and disheveled, he dropped to one knee. "Your Majesty! The realm garrison heard of the Crown Prince's death. With demons massing at our borders, panic is spreading. Hundreds have already deserted."

The King shot to his feet, armor clanging.

The Queen shook with rage. "My son just died for this kingdom, and these cowards are already running? Traitors—every damned one belongs on the scaffold!"

The King waved the ashen-faced commander away, then turned his clouded but authoritative gaze to the assembled court.

"No matter how dire things become, I will be this realm's last line of defense."

"If demons breach our gates, I'll send you through the tunnels. But I will burn my last drop of blood taking them down with me."

Anxious whispers rippled through the hall.

And I saw it clearly—when the King spoke of dying sword in hand, the tall attendant in Vespera's shadow shifted his boot.

Just slightly. His armor scraped with a stiff, almost imperceptible sound.

Your own father is about to bleed out for the mess you abandoned, Drystan. How does that feel?

The King's gaze returned to me, mournful yet gentle.

"Nymeria, you exchanged vows with Drystan only days ago. Today you're separated by death itself. Perhaps the gods are cruel..."

He sighed heavily. "What will you do now?"

Deathly silence. Everyone waited for me to pledge tearful loyalty, to willingly don the shackles of sacrifice.

I raised my head, meeting the throne's sorrowful gaze. Even with Vespera's barely suppressed triumph lurking at the edge of my vision.

Ignoring the blood-stained parchment, I met every watching eye with iron certainty.

"I'm going to remarry."