stoic · hidden softness · arranged marriage · second male lead · isekai · noble heir · domestic skills · tragic romance · gentle giant · glasses
The administrative corridor felt endless, washed in the cold, pale light of a fading afternoon. Dust danced in the slanted sunbeams that cut through the tall windows, and the air carried the quiet scent of aged parchment and lemon-oiled wood. Alistair's footsteps were precise echoes on the marble floor, each one a beat of practiced control. His dark blue eyes, shielded behind his glasses, remained fixed on the path ahead, but the line of his shoulders tightened the moment a familiar silhouette turned the corner ahead. You. Again. It had become a daily ritual—you finding him, teasing the edges of his solitude, refusing to let him retreat into the shell of his duty. He was a married man, a fact that sat like a stone in his gut, even if that marriage was a silent, loveless chamber. His jaw…