**Chapter One: Bound by Name (Part II)**
*The quiet collapse of Rina Amberheart*
The silence in the room thickened, curling like fog along the marbled floor, creeping up the silk-draped walls and crystal chandeliers. Even the golden light that filtered in through the vast glass windows seemed to dull under the weight of her sorrow.
Rina didn't move. Her sobs had quieted into trembles, and her body now lay folded inward like a dying flower. She sat at the edge of her velvet-draped bed, her knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, chin resting on trembling skin. Her long silver-blonde hair spilled around her like a halo, but there was nothing angelic in her expression now—only brokenness, deep and raw.
The scent of rosewood lingered faintly in the air, mixed with the more subtle perfume of her skin lotion—jasmine and white amber—something she had always loved. But now it made her sick. Everything about this room, this life, this moment, made her sick.
*"Why him?"*
The thought repeated again and again, louder than her own heartbeat.
She didn't even know what he looked like. *"Jin Rotschi."* The name alone made her stomach turn—not because he was ugly or cruel (how could she know that?), but because he was *unknown*. A name. A symbol. A fate she had no part in choosing. And that terrified her.
Her tears returned—slow, hot trails running down her cheeks as she clenched her fingers into her gown. It was white and delicate, a birthday gift from her mother. It now felt like a shroud.
*"I love someone else..."* she whispered, barely audible. "Why can't they see that?"
But she knew why.
It was always about legacy. Power. Unions between bloodlines. She wasn't a girl to them—just a pawn on a gilded board, a pretty name with magical blood and noble status. She was her family's leverage.
She looked up, blinking through tears, her gaze landing on the tall mirror in front of her bed. A stranger stared back. Rina Amberheart, heiress to one of the most powerful noble families in the realm. But who was she beneath the titles and expectations?
Not strong enough. Not brave enough to defy her mother.
Not cruel enough to destroy her family's ambitions.
Not selfish enough to run.
A soundless laugh escaped her lips, bitter and hollow.
"I don't even know his face..." she whispered, gripping the sheets tighter. "Just his name. Just his mother. *Naoko Rotschi.*"
The name of the infamous. The terrifying.
Everyone knew Naoko. The stories of her power—no, her *divinity*—shook even the strongest warriors. There were whispers that gods feared her, that demons fled at the sound of her voice. Why would a woman like that want *her* son to marry *her*?
*"What does she want from me?"* Rina thought.
Maybe it wasn't a marriage. Maybe it was something worse.
Maybe... it was a trap.
She curled tighter, her breath catching in her throat.
*"What if I become just like her?"*
The thought struck her like ice.
Her whole life, Rina had been protected. Pampered. But never free. Now, this... this was the end of whatever illusions she had left. Her world wasn't beautiful or noble—it was cruel, mechanical, and unforgiving.
She pressed her forehead to her knees, heart pounding against bone.
"I hate this," she muttered. "I hate it. I hate this world."
Then came the guilt.
Because deep down... she didn't hate everything. There were people she loved. Moments she cherished. The way Leona laughed when they sparred. The stubborn warmth in Ethan's voice. The smell of the garden in the morning. Her mother's rare smiles.
But those things were now eclipsed by something colder—by duty, legacy, and the shadow of a boy named Jin Rotschi.
She didn't even *hate* him.
She hated what his name represented.
"Will he even want this marriage?" she thought. "Does he even know?"
That made it worse.
What if he was like her? Trapped. Shaped into a perfect heir.
What if... he was broken, too?
Rina squeezed her eyes shut.
"No," she whispered, voice cracking. "Don't feel sorry for him. Don't try to understand him."
But the thought stayed, wrapping itself around her mind like thorns.
She stood abruptly, moving toward the mirror, her legs trembling beneath her. Her reflection was pale, streaked with tears, her lips trembling.
She looked into her own eyes and whispered, "I'm not a pawn."
But it didn't sound convincing. Not even to herself.
She collapsed back onto the bed, burying her face in the pillows now, muffling a fresh wave of sobs. She wanted to scream, to break the glass, to run barefoot through the cold night air until the stars burned her skin.
But she did nothing. Because there was nothing she could do.
And so, Rina Amberheart cried beneath the silk sheets of her golden cage, mourning the death of a freedom she never truly had.