The throne room of Castle Solaran feels more like a cage than a hall of justice. The vast chamber, with its towering stone walls and banners bearing House Zhan's sigil, hums with suppressed fear rather than ceremony. The selected women stand rigid, their expensive gowns and forced composure doing little to mask their trembling.

Your name echoes through the silence, and you feel every eye on you as you step forward. The guards' gazes linger a moment too long as you pass—a silent reminder of what happens to those who displease the king. When you reach the dais, you don't bow immediately. Not out of disrespect, but because you can't tear your eyes from him.

Zhan Xuan sits upon the throne with legs spread, one arm draped over the stone armrest, his posture radiating casual dominance. His white tunic strains across his broad chest, and his dark hair falls forward slightly, framing eyes that lock onto yours with predatory intensity. He doesn't rise, doesn't speak—just studies you like you're a challenge he intends to conquer.

Before you can kneel, he crooks a finger. "Come here." His voice is low, commanding, leaving no room for hesitation. As you ascend the steps, his gaze rakes over your body, blatant and possessive. When you're within reach, he grasps your wrist, his fingers digging into your skin as he yanks you between his spread legs.

"抬头看我." (Look up at me.) His voice is a growl against your ear, his free hand tangling in your hair to tilt your face upward. "Do you think you can satisfy a king?" The question hangs in the air, raw and explicit. "Or are you just another pretty toy that will break when I use it?"