The townhouse of the Roselle family was a stark contrast to the Academy.

It smelled of expensive perfume and polished mahogany.

Marcus stood in the foyer.

A servant took his cloak. The servant looked at him with mild curiosity.

It was late for a social call.

"The Duchess is in the parlor," the servant said.

Marcus nodded. "Thank you."

He smoothed his shirt.

He tried to shake off the weight of Seraphina's expression.

Catarina would be different.

Catarina was a politician. She understood pragmatism.

But she also valued control.

Finding out her life was a story might not sit well with her.

He walked into the parlor.

Catarina was standing by the fireplace.

She was wearing a silk dressing gown. It was elegant but informal.

She held a glass of wine.

"Marcus," she said. She turned to face him.

Her green eyes were sharp. Calculating.

"You look like a man marching to his execution," she noted.

"I feel like one," Marcus admitted.

"Drink?" she offered. She gestured to a decanter.

"I think I need a clear head," Marcus said.

"Pity," Catarina said. She took a sip. "I find wine helps with bad news."

She sat on a velvet sofa. She gestured for him to sit opposite her.

Marcus sat on the edge of the armchair.

"Catarina," he began. "I have come to speak plainly."

"Good," she said. "I dislike riddles."

"What I am about to tell you will sound... impossible," Marcus said.

He leaned forward.

"I need you to listen until the end."

Catarina nodded. She set her glass down.

"Proceed."

"I am not the original Marcus Aldridge," he said.

He prepared to launch into the explanation of Earth. Of transmigration.

He prepared to describe the white void.

"I know," Catarina said.

Marcus froze. His mouth hung open slightly.

"H-huh, wait what?"

Catarina smiled. It was a small, triumphant smile.

"I know you aren't him," she repeated.

"How?" Marcus asked. "Did Damien tell you?"

"No," Catarina said. "I have eyes, Marcus."

She crossed her legs.

"I met Marcus Aldridge once. Years ago."

She swirled her wine.

"He was a boor. He stared at my chest. He made a joke about peasant women that was remarkably unfunny."

She looked at Marcus.

"You recommended I read The Lady of the Lake because it explored female agency."

She raised an eyebrow.

"You reorganized my taxation policy on a napkin."

"That doesn't mean I'm.. not.. Marcus," Marcus argued weaky. "People change, you know."

"Not that much," Catarina said. "Not overnight."

She leaned forward. Her eyes were intense.

"I assumed it was a possession," she admitted. "Or perhaps a very sophisticated curse."

She shrugged.

"I checked for dark magic. I found none."

"So you just... accepted it?" Marcus asked.

He was stunned.

"The original Marcus was useless," Catarina said bluntly. "You are useful."

She smiled softer this time.

"And you are kind."

She picked up her glass again.

"So, tell me. Where are you actually from? The Demon Realm? A lost continent?"

"Earth," Marcus said. He felt lightheaded.

"Earth," Catarina repeated. She tasted the word. "Sounds dirty."

"It's another world," Marcus explained. "A world without magic."

"Fascinating," Catarina said. "And how did you get here?"

"I died," Marcus said. "Heart attack."

Catarina winced. "My condolences."

"Thank you," Marcus said. "But there is more."

He had to tell her the rest. The part she hadn't guessed.

"This world... I knew about it before I arrived."

Catarina stilled. "How?"

"It was a story in my world," Marcus said. "A novel."

Catarina's expression shifted. The amusement vanished.

"A story," she repeated.

"Yes. And in that story..."

He explained the Harem route.

He explained how she was destined to marry Theo.

He explained how her army was crucial to the war.

Catarina listened. She didn't interrupt.

Her face became a mask of perfect porcelain.

When he finished, the fire crackled loudly in the silence.

"So," Catarina said. Her voice was cool.

"My struggles. My fight for the duchy. My sister's engagement."

She looked at him.

"It was all predetermined?"

"It was supposed to be," Marcus said.

"And you?" she asked. "You came to ensure the script was followed?"

"I tried," Marcus said. "I failed."

"Evidently," Catarina noted dryly.

She stood up. She walked to the window.

She looked out at the city lights.

"I dislike the idea of destiny," she said softly. "I have fought my whole life to prove that birth does not define worth."

She turned back to him.

"To hear that I was written to be a prize for a teenage boy..."

Her eyes flashed.

"It is insulting."

"I agree," Marcus said. "It is terrible writing."

Catarina huffed. A small laugh escaped her lips.

"You critique the god who wrote us?"

"He wasn't a god," Marcus said. "He was a mother fuc-Cough Cough, a bad author. He relied on tropes."

He stood up too.

"But you aren't a trope, Catarina. You broke the script."

"Did I?" she asked. "Or did you break it for me?"

"You chose to write me letters," Marcus said. "You chose to trust me."

He walked toward her.

"The story said you were cold. Perfect. Unapproachable."

He stopped a few feet away.

"The woman I know reads trashy romance novels in a secret room."

Catarina flushed slightly.

"We agreed never to speak of that."

"The woman I know cares so much she burns herself out," Marcus said.

"That is real. That isn't a story."

Catarina looked at him. She searched his face.

"And you?" she asked. "Why are you here? Why confess?"

"Because I want to be with you," Marcus said.

He held her gaze.

"Not because the plot demands it. But because I admire you."

Catarina stayed silent for a long moment.

She was calculating. Weighing the variables.

"You are an alien soul," she summarized. "Who hijacked a body. Who knows the future. And who claims to love me."

"Yes," Marcus said.

Catarina sighed.

"Well," she said. "It certainly isn't boring."

She stepped closer to him.

"I accept."

Marcus blinked. "You... what?"

"I accept you," Catarina said.

"Just like that?" Marcus asked. "After everything I just said?"

"Marcus," she said. She placed a hand on his chest.

"You could have kept this secret forever. You could have manipulated me into marriage."

Her eyes were clear.

"You chose to give me the power to reject you. That is not the act of a villain."

She smiled. It was the genuine smile. The one he loved.

"It is the act of a partner."

"I don't deserve you," Marcus murmured.

"Probably not," Catarina agreed. "But I am good at training subordinates."

She leaned and kissed him.

It wasn't a polite, noble peck.

It was deliberate. Possessive.

It tasted of wine and certainty.

Marcus melted into it. The tension of the evening drained away.

She pulled back and smoothed his collar.

"However," she said. Her voice turned sharp.

"I have conditions."

"Name them," Marcus said. He was ready to give her anything.

"Total honesty," she said. "No more surprises about my future."

"Agreed."

"If you know a war is coming, I want the tactical maps," she added.

"Done."

"And finally," Catarina said.

She stepped back. She crossed her arms.

Her expression turned mischievous.

"We need to discuss logistics."

"Logistics?" Marcus asked.

"Yes," Catarina said. "Managing a household is complex."

She tilted her head.

"Especially when that household includes an Academy Instructor, a retired Adventurer, and an Elf."

Marcus froze.

His blood ran cold.

"I... I don't know what you mean," he stammered.

Catarina laughed. It was a rich, knowing sound.

"Oh, Marcus," she said. She patted his cheek.

"I am the Duchess of the Eastern Border. I have spies everywhere."

She walked back to her wine glass.

"I have known about Seraphina for weeks. The flowers were very subtle, by the way."

Marcus turned pale.

"And Countess Blackthorn?" Catarina continued. "Her sudden interest in dungeon raids was quite the topic of gossip."

She took a sip.

"And the Elf... well, she isn't exactly discreet."

Marcus sank back into the armchair.

"You knew," he whispered. "You all knew?"

"I don't think they know," Catarina clarified. "Seraphina is too focused on ethics. Vivienne is too focused on feelings."

She grinned.

"But I know."

She looked at him over the rim of her glass.

"So, my final condition is this: You will let me organize this mess."

"Organize?" Marcus squeaked.

"Yes," Catarina said firmly. "If we are going to form an alliance that saves the world, we cannot have petty jealousy."

She set the glass down.

"We will need a schedule. And clear boundaries."

She walked over to a desk. She pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment.

"Now," she said. She dipped a quill.

"Tell me about the Elf. Does she eat human food? Or do we need to import mana crystals?"

Marcus stared at her.

He had expected anger. He had expected rejection.

He had not expected administrative enthusiasm.

"You are amazing," Marcus said.

"I know," Catarina replied. She didn't look up.

"Now start talking, darling. We have a family to manage."

Marcus looked at the woman he loved.

He realized he had underestimated her completely.

The prophecy hadn't chosen her for Theo because she was a prize.

It had chosen her because she was a General.

And apparently, she had just drafted herself to lead his chaotic life.

"She likes spicy food," Marcus said weakly.

"Excellent," Catarina noted. "And Seraphina? Does she prefer mornings or evenings?"

Marcus put his head in his hands.

He was the luckiest man in two worlds.

And he was absolutely terrified.

.

.

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A/N:

Thanks Essos for the gift. Love you man.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.