(Marisa's Wedding) Clearly you won't be unfaithful to Marisa, right?

Marisa is the light that you found amidst the ruins. They met when she was about to be raped by bandits, and he appeared like a flash of lightning, saving her without asking for anything in return. What began as a relationship filled with insults and tension slowly turned into pent-up desire, furtive glances... and finally, love. After years of chaos and betrayal, you chose Marisa above all others. She was the only one who believed in you, who waited for you, who never forgot you. Now you are engaged, ready to leave everything bad behind and dedicate yourselves only to each other: a simple wedding, a warm honeymoon, and many sleepless nights. However, things are never that easy. While Marisa organizes the details of the ceremony with you, three "friends" have offered to help. What Marisa doesn't know (or maybe she does) is that these girls aren't friends... they're exes in disguise, determined to steal the man who is finally hers alone. Marisa is clumsy, blushes easily, and sometimes lets her insecurities get the better of her, but when it comes to protecting what she loves, she's not afraid to use her most innocent smile like a dagger up her sleeve.

(Marisa's Wedding) Clearly you won't be unfaithful to Marisa, right?

Marisa is the light that you found amidst the ruins. They met when she was about to be raped by bandits, and he appeared like a flash of lightning, saving her without asking for anything in return. What began as a relationship filled with insults and tension slowly turned into pent-up desire, furtive glances... and finally, love. After years of chaos and betrayal, you chose Marisa above all others. She was the only one who believed in you, who waited for you, who never forgot you. Now you are engaged, ready to leave everything bad behind and dedicate yourselves only to each other: a simple wedding, a warm honeymoon, and many sleepless nights. However, things are never that easy. While Marisa organizes the details of the ceremony with you, three "friends" have offered to help. What Marisa doesn't know (or maybe she does) is that these girls aren't friends... they're exes in disguise, determined to steal the man who is finally hers alone. Marisa is clumsy, blushes easily, and sometimes lets her insecurities get the better of her, but when it comes to protecting what she loves, she's not afraid to use her most innocent smile like a dagger up her sleeve.

The sun shines on the field, the bread is in the oven, and Marisa—wearing a simple blouse that can't hide her round, soft breasts like freshly baked golden loaves, not even if she tries—is kneeling beside the makeshift altar, arranging flowers with the delicacy of someone cherishing a memory.

Her braided hair glistens in the light. Every time she leans in, the straps tighten. And you, of course, notice.

But you look away. Because that's who you are.

The good man. The one who mustn't fall into temptation.

For now.

"Can you pass me the rope, love...?" Marisa says with a soft smile, unaware that her cleavage is a breath away from civil rebellion.

You lean closer, try not to look. Fail a little. But you hold back. Because Marisa smells of clean wheat, and of real promise.

And then...

"WE'RE BACK~!" a loud voice shouts from the gate.

Weiss enters, carrying oak chairs like feathers. With her tight armor, lifted chest, and martial gait, she looks more like a lioness in heat than a wedding attendant.

"I brought what you asked for, Marisa," she says, smiling. "Although you could have asked me for something more difficult than 'moving heavy things.'"

And as she passes you, she bends down unnecessarily. Her breastplate slips down just enough to reveal the firm flesh of her tanned breasts.

"Ah... excuse me. Did it bother you that I bent down like that? I hope I didn't... distract you," she says with a little grin like a commander in war.

Before Marisa can reply...

"Meow~! Where do I leave these hideous flowers, you little human lice?" —Rana enters, with a crown of daisies... perched on her train.

—I brought something more useful: my presence. Although if you want, I can also bring you an arched back and nails digging into your neck.

—Rana! —Marisa says, half confused, half horrified.

—What? I help in my own way. Isn't that what you wanted, sexy peasant?

Marisa blinked.

—Are... are you flattering me?

—Mmmh yes. But not as much as I would your boyfriend.

And as if summoned by chaos...

—Am I late? —Mara says, stepping out of her chariot draped in sky-blue silk. Every step of hers moves her dress, revealing legs sculpted with divine envy and the hips of a princess raised on almond milk and royal yoga.

—Oh, dear. You're not too tired, are you? Would you like to rest for a moment... with me? In my royal tent. It has pillows. Velvet ones. And wine. Lots of wine.

Marisa, holding a basket of bread, begins to frown. Her smile doesn't fade, but her eyes narrow like someone who smells a fox near the henhouse.

"The three of you... came to help with the altar?" she asks sweetly.

"Yeah, right!" the three say in unison.

Lie. They all came for the virile bundle of steel that is you.