The Lord’s Silent Bride

Chapter 1: The Bride in Silence

The sun was warm against the veil that draped over Angel’s snow-white hair. She sat still as the maids finished fastening the final golden pin into her updo, shaped like a blooming flower — the only thing from her mother’s past she had left.

Outside her chamber door, her father’s voice cut sharply through the air like a blade.

“When you arrive at Lord Ryo’s castle, do not talk back. Keep your head down. You talk too much as it is — don’t embarrass yourself.”

Angel said nothing, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She had heard this all her life — *the weak one*, *the pitiful one*. The one without rank, without strength. Her father never once saw her magic, never once suspected the power she kept buried deep within her — healing, casting, summoning. She hid it all, because that’s what her mother told her to do before she died.

As the final strings of her crimson robe were tightened, Angel gently pulled the veil over her face and rose to her feet. The carriage waited outside, drawn by two silver spirit horses with glowing eyes. Without a word, Angel climbed inside. The journey to Lord Ryo’s estate was long and silent. The city gave way to forests, and the forests to mountains draped in fog. The road curved through ancient land where power was thick in the air, and magic hummed softly like a heartbeat.

By the time the carriage reached the gate of the Lord’s castle — a towering fortress of stone, wood, and carved dragons — Angel’s hands were clasped tightly in her lap. The servants led her to a quiet room bathed in moonlight. Silk drapes swayed with the wind. She sat Japanese-style on the mat, her veil still covering her features, her eyes low, just as her father demanded.

The door creaked open. Footsteps. Soft, but deliberate. A voice — low and commanding.

" Stand.”

Angel obeyed, her movements fluid but restrained.

“What is your name?”

She bowed her head lower and whispered, “Angel... Megumi.”

There was a pause. She could sense the judgment in his silence. Lord Ryo narrowed his eyes. The veil, the silence — he was certain she would be plain, forgettable, another political pawn forced into his life. He stepped closer.

“You will follow five rules: Speak only when spoken to. Do not enter my study. Do not leave the estate without permission. Do not touch anything that glows. And above all... do not lie.”

Angel simply nodded. Without a word of warning, Lord Ryo reached up and pulled the veil from her face. Time seemed to stop. Her skin, rich and smooth like polished mahogany. Her snow-white hair, softly curled and glowing beneath the lantern light. But it was her eyes — a deep, oceanic blue with a hidden glow — that made his breath catch. She was... stunning. Not happy. Not smiling. But calm. Silent. Unafraid. Ryo cleared his throat and quickly stepped back.

“You will be staying in my wing. I’ll show you the room. Follow me.”

Angel's heart thumped. She didn’t want to share a room. She had heard the stories. Some husbands were cruel. Others were... possessive. But she said nothing, and quietly followed him through the dimly lit corridor. The halls were lined with paper lanterns and quiet wind chimes that sang softly in the dark. He opened the doors to a grand Chinese-style bedroom: a crimson and gold canopy bed, carved jade tables, and silk drapes flowing from the ceiling.

“Rest. We’ll speak in the morning. I have business tonight. You’ll be safe.”

With that, Lord Ryo left. The door shut behind him. Angel stood in the center of the room, unsure what to feel. This wasn’t home. This wasn’t love. This was survival. She walked to the bed and sat gently, her fingers curling into the silk sheets.

“I don’t know if I can do this…”

And for the first time that day, she let herself sigh — not out of sadness, but out of exhaustion from a life of pretending.