THE PRINCE'S CURSED BRIDE

A sharp, warm light forced my eyes to flutter open. For a moment, my mind refused to process what I was seeing. A canopy—white silk embroidered with gold threads—draped above me like the ceiling of some ancient fairy tale. The fabric swayed faintly, catching the sunlight that streamed in from the enormous windows at my left. Windows? My apartment in Manila didn’t even have one this big. Heck, my room barely had space for my cat’s litter box. I blinked hard. My head felt heavy, as if someone had dropped an entire encyclopedia collection inside my skull. The air smelled faintly of lavender and something else… like wood that had been polished a hundred times. There was no trace of the familiar aroma of instant noodles and cologne I was used to. Slowly, I sat up—only to be greeted by the softest, plushiest mattress I had ever felt in my entire life. My fingers sank into it like clouds. The blanket was heavy, warm, and clearly not from the 50-peso rack in Divisoria. “Okay… this is weird,” I whispered. “Either nanalo ako sa lotto habang natutulog… or—” The thought stopped when I caught sight of myself in the mirror across the room. That was not my t-shirt. That was not my pajama shorts. That was… oh my God. I was wearing a cream-colored nightgown, long and flowy, trimmed with lace at the sleeves. My hair—normally a frizzy mess—fell in smooth waves over my shoulders, as if I’d just stepped out of a shampoo commercial. My skin even looked… brighter? “What the actual—” Before I could finish, a loud knock echoed from the other side of the door. Three times. Solid and deliberate. “Enter,” a deep voice commanded—not mine. Definitely not mine. The door opened, revealing a man who looked like he’d stepped straight out of a fantasy drama poster. He was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a black military-style coat lined with silver embroidery. His hair was a deep chestnut brown, swept slightly back, revealing sharp, symmetrical features. But it was his eyes—cold, silvery-gray—that pinned me in place. I swallowed. “Uh… hello?” His gaze swept over me, slow and assessing, like I was some rare object on display. “So,” he finally said, voice smooth but laced with something… dangerous. “You’re awake.” I blinked. “Yeah, I mean… yes? I think?” Why did I sound like I was confessing to a crime? He took a step closer, and I caught a faint whiff of him—crisp, like winter air mixed with something dark and rich. His presence filled the room, stealing the oxygen straight from my lungs. “Who… who are you?” I asked, hoping he didn’t notice the tiny quiver in my voice. His lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “I,” he said, “am Prince Kael of Ravaryn… and you—” his gaze sharpened, “—are my bride.” … I stared. “Ah… excuse me? Wrong number po ata kayo.” One of his eyebrows arched, as if no one had ever dared talk to him like that before. His jaw tightened, and for a second, I swore I saw a flicker of irritation in those stormy eyes. But instead of answering, he simply turned toward the door and called, “Prepare her.” Then, without so much as a backward glance, he left the room—leaving me with a racing heart, a thousand questions, and the terrifying thought that maybe… just maybe… I wasn’t dreaming. END OF CHAPTER 1