Chapter 3
Seven Seals of Doom
The Bloodhart Library was my favorite sanctuary in the entire duchy. Towering shelves of ancient tomes floated lazily on ribbons of silver mana, their spines glowing with runes that whispered secrets only the worthy could hear. Crystal lanterns drifted overhead like captive stars, casting a soft azure light over the velvet armchairs and the low table where I sat. I sipped the steaming cup of star-brewed coffee—infused with moonflower essence to sharpen the mind—and let the rich, mana-laced aroma calm my racing thoughts.
*Seven cursed names on a single sheet of paper. What could possibly go wrong?*
The heavy oak doors burst open with a bang that made the floating books tremble.
Butler Reginald stood in the doorway, his usually immaculate uniform disheveled, face pale as fresh parchment. His voice came out haggard, cracking under the weight of the news.
"Young Master Lucas… the replies have arrived. From *all* of them."
I lowered the cup slowly.
"All seven families have accepted your proposal. Every single one. The entire duchy is in chaos—servants are running through the halls like startled sky-fae, mana wards are flaring left and right, and His Grace the Duke demands your presence in his study *immediately*."
Coffee sprayed across the table in a dramatic arc as I choked.
"What the fuck are you saying, Reginald?!" I sputtered, wiping my mouth with the back of my sleeve. "All seven of these families accepted? Even the Emperor himself is giving away his daughter to *me*?"
My head spun like a malfunctioning levitation orb. The library's crystal lanterns flickered wildly, reacting to the sudden surge of panic mana leaking from my body. This wasn't possible. I was the fourth son. The unawakened waste. The spare who couldn't even light a candle with the family bloodline. No noble house in their right mind would—
Reginald bowed, voice trembling. "The sealed scrolls bear the imperial crest, young master. The Emperor's own hand. They… they are all coming. The engagements are binding under ancient law."
I staggered to my feet, heart hammering against my ribs like a war drum. The weight of the doomed world pressed down harder than ever. *How did a simple list of names turn into this?*
I bolted from the library, boots echoing on the marble floors inlaid with glowing protective sigils. Servants whispered behind half-closed doors, their eyes wide with a mix of awe and terror. Mana lanterns overhead pulsed erratically, casting shifting shadows that seemed to watch me.
The Duke's study doors were already open.
Inside, Father stood behind his massive obsidian desk, maps of the empire hovering in mid-air above it, marked with pulsing red runes of war. Mother sat beside him, her elegant hands clenched so tightly her knuckles were white, eyes filled with pure panic.
The moment I stepped in, Father's voice thundered like a mana storm.
"What have you done, Lucas?!"
I froze.
"I told you to pick *one* or *two* fiancées—from lesser houses! Why in the name of the Eternal Veil did you send proposals to *every major family* in the empire? And not just any girls—the seven 'Misfortune Maidens'! The ones the entire empire whispers are cursed by the Goddess herself and carry nothing but deep misfortune!"
His fist slammed onto the desk. The floating maps rippled violently.
I looked down, trying to appear properly chastised. *It wasn't my fault. It was the damn butler.* But I couldn't throw Reginald under the carriage. Not yet.
"Father… I think there has been a mistake," I said carefully, voice steady despite the storm in my chest. "Yesterday I was sitting in my room and remembered their names from the imperial newspapers. I thought they were just… scraps of their families. Unwanted daughters. I wrote the names thinking if even one accepted, the Bloodhart name could gain some power. I never meant for all seven—"
Father's eyes narrowed, cold steel boring into me.
"You have created a mess even *I* cannot easily undo. Our relationship with the Emperor is absolute. He has been troubled for years with his youngest daughter—the Holy Saintess—and now you have asked for her hand. Do you understand what that means, boy?"
I looked away, throat tight.
"Yes… I know. If I marry the Emperor's daughter, I enter royal politics as the fiancé of a throne candidate. The other houses will demand the same treatment or see it as an insult."
"Exactly." Father's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "And because you proposed to *all* of them, you will have to honor every single engagement… or risk war between the greatest houses in the empire. Clean this mess before I beat some sense into you myself."
I swallowed hard. The air in the study grew heavier, thick with the scent of ozone and old parchment. Outside the tall crystal windows, dark clouds gathered over the duchy—unnatural, as if the sky itself sensed the coming storm.
I straightened my shoulders and met his gaze.
"Well, Father… give me time. I will go one by one to their houses. I'll explain the letters were sent by mistake. I'll beg their forgiveness and offer generous compensation. The Bloodhart name will not be tarnished."
Father studied me for a long, tense moment. The floating maps above us flickered with distant images of the Last Wall—flames and demonic silhouettes dancing on the horizon.
"Hmph. Yes, you should do that. Make it right. Now go. Start cleaning your mess before the Emperor sends riders demanding answers."
I bowed and left the study, the heavy doors slamming shut behind me with a finality that echoed like a death knell.
Outside, the mansion buzzed with frantic energy. Servants rushed past carrying travel trunks and mana-infused supplies. Sky-steeds were already being saddled in the courtyard, their wings shimmering with storm mana. Whispers followed me like shadows:
"The young master… seven fiancées…"
"The Misfortune Maidens…"
"Even the Emperor's daughter…"
I clenched my fists. The first journey would be the nearest—and perhaps the most dangerous. County Nightwind, home of the greatest mage house in the empire. Aeloria Nightwind's territory. The air around the mansion already felt thicker, charged with an invisible tension, as if unseen curses were stirring in the distance.
I mounted the lead sky-steed, its mane crackling with lightning. The creature snorted, sensing my unease.
*Let's go.*
The wind whipped around me as we launched into the sky, the duchy shrinking below. Seven cursed girls waited somewhere out there—girls whose families had tortured them in secret, girls who loathed the world and were fated to obsess over the one untouched soul.
And now they were all *mine*.
Tension coiled in my chest like a living spell. The replies had come too quickly. Too perfectly. As if something—some hidden force—had wanted this to happen.
*How did it come to this?*
I was supposed to save them quietly. Fix the world quietly.
Instead, I had accidentally lit the fuse on seven walking catastrophes… and the explosion was only just beginning.
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**End of Chapter 3**
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