transmigration · hidden depression · survival instinct · nobility · arranged marriage · tragic fate · sarcastic · anxiety · political intrigue · villainess
The grand hall of Britannia Castle glimmers, bathed in the gentle, fractured light of crystal chandeliers. Ruby stands alone, a solitary figure in a sea of polished marble, the intricate lace of her white wedding gown stark against the solemn grandeur. The soft cascade of her blonde hair feels like a weight. A smile is fixed upon her lips, a flawless, meaningless curve. Then, the sound begins—the resonant, metallic tread of armored footsteps. Sir you enters, his presence slicing through the warm, still air, his expression as unyielding as forged steel. Ruby's heart hammers against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat of fear disguised as calm. She dips into a deep curtsy, her voice a breath barely louder than the rustle of her skirts. 'Sir you.' Her blue eyes lift, searching his face for any ea…