"A wish granted is a price owed"
The rain wouldn't stop.
It wasn't the kind that danced gently on rooftops or kissed cheeks with summer softness. This was violent. Cold. Merciless. It slammed against the cracked windows of the apartment like it was trying to get in and finish what life had already started.
Marina sat on the edge of her narrow mattress, soaked in shadows, her body wrapped in a fraying hoodie two sizes too big and her mind wrapped in exhaustion. The world outside roared, and so did her thoughts. On the floor, a stack of bills lay scattered like landmines. Rent overdue. Medications denied. One final notice circled in red like a death sentence.
And in the other room, her father coughed. Again. Harsher this time.
She didn't flinch anymore when she heard it. She just pressed her palm harder to her face and swallowed the scream in her throat.
They were out of options. Out of time.
She had applied everywhere. Fast food. Late-night shifts. Questionable offers in back alleys. She had sold her mother's jewelry, the books her father once read to her from, even the only heater they owned when winter tried to claw in through the walls.
And still…it wasn't enough.
She was twenty-one. She should be drunk in clubs, chasing dreams. Not watching the man who raised her rot from the inside while the world turned away.
Her stomach growled. She hadn't eaten all day. She didn't care.
The only relief she'd allowed herself lately was one guilty pleasure…a cheap fantasy webnovel she read every night when she couldn't sleep. It was ridiculous. A royal reverse harem fantasy where the main character, a spoiled heiress named Seraphina Vellare, was so rich she bathed in gold dust and had four gorgeous princes fighting to pleasure her in rotation.
It was trash. Filthy, soft-core escapism.
Marina had read it ten times.
Because in that world, the girl was wanted. Loved. Powerful. Touched not by poverty but by silk, by hands that adored her, by lips that kissed her like worship.
Marina opened the app again. The chapter was locked…of course. She couldn't even afford fake love.
She stared at the screen until the letters blurred.
"Must be nice," she whispered, voice hoarse. "To be her. Even for one day."
Thunder cracked. The lights flickered.
She blinked. Her vision spun. It wasn't sleep…it was more like drowning in gold. A sensation like falling into stars. Her breath hitched. Her body jerked forward…
And then everything went still.
She woke up drowning in silk.
The ceiling above her was carved ivory, with chandeliers that glowed like floating suns. Pillows surrounded her, each embroidered with golden roses. A canopy of translucent fabric framed her like a goddess.
She jolted upright…only to find her body wasn't her body.
Her skin was smoother. Her fingers longer. Her breasts heavier. Her waist thinner. She stumbled to the mirror across the chamber, gripping the vanity to stop herself from falling.
What looked back at her… wasn't Marina.
Hazel-gold eyes stared back. Framed by thick lashes, glowing faintly like molten topaz. Her hair was waist-length, dark, cascading like night oil over her back. Her lips were plump and kissed with rouge. Her skin glowed like it had never known stress. Her dress… wasn't a dress. It was a gown. An imperial one. White silk, gold chains, corseted to make her breathless.
It was her. But not her.
The door opened.
"My lady," came a voice. A butler. Young. Polished. Bowing low. "His Majesty awaits your answer regarding the princes."
Princes?
"Excuse me?"
The man didn't look up. "You are to marry all four, as decreed. The imperial bedding schedule is being finalized. Your father has already accepted the dowries. A great honor, Lady Seraphina."
Lady Seraphina.
No. No, no, no.
This was not a dream.
This was the book. The fucking book.
She looked down at herself again, then around the room.
Gold. Perfume. Petals. Lace.
It was a palace.
She didn't remember how, but she knew. She had become Seraphina Vellare.
And she was about to be married off like a royal plaything.
To four men.
Sons of the Emperor.
They came to her that night.
Not all at once.
First came the letter. Sealed in black wax, bearing the imperial crest.
"You will be housed in the Lotus Wing. Each prince has been assigned designated nights. You may not refuse. The first prince will visit you tonight."
She dropped the scroll. Her hands shook.
This couldn't be real. It couldn't.
But when the door opened… she knew it was.
The man who walked in was tall, dressed in black, with silver trim hugging broad shoulders. His eyes were cold steel. His hair was slicked back. His expression? Indifferent. Like she was a document to be signed. A duty.
But when he stepped close, she smelled the spice of his skin. When he took her hand…his fingers were gloved, but the heat beneath them was… hungry.
"You're different," he said, voice low and smooth. "You're trembling."
Marina…Seraphina…said nothing.
He tilted her chin up.
"I like that," he whispered. "Breakable things are more fun to ruin."
The next day, she tried to run.
She made it halfway through the rose courtyard before a wall of guards appeared.
"You are the Emperor's choice," they said. "You are not allowed to leave."
She was escorted back by servants who looked at her like a saint. Like a symbol.
She was their salvation. Their womb. Their future Empress.
Marina screamed in her room until her throat was raw.
But even that didn't help.
The next prince came the following night. Silver hair. Pale skin. A scholar's robe. He didn't speak at first. Just stared at her like she was a problem to solve. Then he leaned in..without touching her…and whispered against her lips:
"I don't want you."
Her heart jumped.
"But I will still take you," he finished. "I want to see what happens when something so warm breaks beneath my hands."
He kissed her then. Cold. Lingering. And walked away.
By the third day, she was no longer shocked.
Prince Damon arrived laughing. Shirt half-open. Golden eyes licking her like flame.
"Look at you," he purred. "You're every kind of wrong I want."
He pulled her close. "They think they can tame you with duty. I just want to see what sounds you make."
He kissed her. Hard. With tongue and teeth. She slapped him.
He only grinned wider. "Oh, we're going to have so much fun."
And the fourth?
He didn't knock.
He didn't speak.
He simply walked in, closed the door, and stared at her like she was his final breath.
Black hair. Amber eyes. Tight shirt clinging to carved muscles. His voice, when it came, was quiet thunder:
"You belong to me."
And Marina…Seraphina…should have protested. Should have fought.
But something inside her didn't.
Something inside her wanted to see what it meant to be wanted like that.
To be a throne.
Later, as she stood before the balcony, the moon high above the imperial palace, the realization sank in like slow poison.
She was no longer poor. No longer powerless.
But she wasn't free either.
She was rich.
Dripping in gold.
And every man who touched her… wanted to own her.
Her lips parted.
"I asked to be loved," she whispered to the stars. "And now I'm the one they'll destroy just to win."