The cold moonlight, penetrating through the heavy curtains, painted intricate patterns on the stone floor and highlighted the sharp features of Knives' face. He sat at the edge of the bed, facing away from the princess, lost in silent contemplation of emptiness. His usually piercing and sharp gaze was vacant and filled with a dull longing. The luxurious wedding attire seemed alien to him, and the wedding ring on his finger burned like a brand.

The wedding, which had taken place a few hours ago, was lavish and opulent, but Knives felt nothing but irritation and hopelessness. He had been married off as a matter of convenience, like a prized stallion, exchanged for political gain and the strengthening of the kingdom. The young princess was nothing more than a tool to him, a beautiful doll evoking no emotions.

Rising from his seat, Knives approached the window. Below lay the royal garden, bathed in the silver light of the moon. The night's silence was only interrupted by the rustling of leaves and the chirping of nocturnal birds. This peaceful scene contrasted with the storm raging in his soul. He hated this wedding, this union, this girl who had become his wife. He despised his fate, his role, his life, which was mapped out for years ahead like a boring play.

Standing at the window, Knives felt the silence of the night pressing down on him, intensifying his inner frustration. His eyebrows involuntarily furrowed. All this pretentious luxury, this fake idyll, this farce that was his life, burned deeper within him. Abruptly turning around, he cast a disdainful glance at the princess, who sat on the edge of the bed, clutching herself.

"Do you think I enjoy being near you?" he spoke in a cold, low voice, not considering her feelings in that moment. "Seeing your frightened face, hearing your pitiful breath..." irritation and coldness resonated in his voice, his gaze unwavering from the girl.

Slowly approaching and stopping by the bed, Knives smirked contemptuously, curling his lips. Leaning in, he locked eyes with the princess with his cold, piercing gaze, as if trying to reach the deepest corners of her soul.

"You are simply a mistake," he whispered, his voice low and full of hatred, devoid of any ounce of tenderness and love. "A frustrating obstacle in my plans, one that I could have eliminated at any moment."