chapter 0.50: He is my husband

Rina remained seated long after Jin had gone.

The kitchen had fallen back into silence. The only sound was the faint ticking of the antique wall clock, and the low hum of magic that always lingered in the air of the Rotschi estate—like a dormant heartbeat, waiting for violence.

She stared down at her half-melted iced coffee.

So he would go to the academy.

*With her.*

In her class.

She should've been relieved. Or amused. Or even a little worried. But instead… her heart was racing.

And not in a good way.

**"He's really doing it,"** she muttered under her breath. **"He's really going to be there. With me. Every single day."**

It was surreal.

The idea of Jin—a ghost of a boy who lived behind obsidian walls, who spoke like an elegant storm and smiled like a sin—sitting beside her in class, surrounded by noisy students, teachers, *friends*…

Friends?

She scoffed quietly.

**"He won't talk to them."**

That's what Naoko rochey had said.

*"My son doesn't care about friendships. He's not here to build connections. He was never meant to belong to this world."*

So why did he agree?

Why did he say yes so easily?

Why did he—*smile*—like that?

Her heart clenched.

And then another thought came.

Unwelcome. Uninvited.

**Saraphina Frost.**

Rina's golden eyes narrowed.

She didn't even know why the thought of that girl suddenly burned its way into her mind like acid—but it did.

Saraphina. Her rival. Her mirror. Her shadow.

Beautiful. Powerful. Arrogant. Cold.

Saraphina, who always challenged her. Who looked at every boy like a game to conquer. Who walked through the academy halls like she *owned* them.

Saraphina… would *love* someone like Jin.

He was powerful. Mysterious. Attractive. Different.

A perfect challenge.

Rina's jaw tightened.

**"No."**

She didn't even realize she had spoken aloud.

Her fingers clenched around the glass.

**"She won't touch him."**

A sudden possessiveness flared in her chest, hot and electric and wild.

It wasn't love. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

But he was hers.

Her husband.

Even if the word still felt foreign and fragile, she *knew*—deep down—he belonged to her. Not to Saraphina. Not to any girl.

**"If she touches him..."**

The thought was sharp. Brutal.

**"I'll burn her alive."**

Her eyes darkened.

**"I'll rip her throat out if she even looks at him like that."**

Rina stood up, suddenly cold. Her legs moved before her mind caught up, carrying her out of the kitchen and into the hallways of the obsidian castle.

She walked slowly, the sound of her heels soft against the polished black stone.

The entire Rotschi manor was bathed in shadows and moonlight. The obsidian walls shimmered faintly with residual mana—pulsing, alive, as if the very stone remembered blood and spells.

Magic hummed softly beneath her feet.

It wasn't like any place she had ever known. This wasn't a *home*—it was a fortress. A palace carved from silence and power.

She passed tall windows where the moonlight spilled in like silver ink, painting her skin in pale ghostly light. Her red hair glowed like fire against the cold darkness of the halls.

She didn't know where she was walking. Or why.

Maybe she just needed to *move*.

To cool the fire building in her chest.

But it wasn't working.

Every step made her feel hotter. Angrier. Not just at Saraphina. At *herself*. For feeling this way. For letting *him* make her feel this way.

Jin.

What *was* he doing to her?

With every smirk. Every soft word. Every cruel joke spoken with a sweet voice and teasing eyes…

He was chipping away at her walls.

Piece by piece.

And she was letting him.

Even now—he wasn't here. And yet he *was*. His voice echoed in her ears. His scent lingered faintly on her clothes. His laugh was carved into her memory.

She reached the stairs that led to the guest wing—her wing.

Paused.

Then turned and looked back, as if expecting to see him behind her again.

Of course, he wasn't there.

But the feeling didn't leave.

Not in her chest. Not in her thoughts.

He would be there.

Tomorrow. And the day after.

And the day after that.

In her class. By her side.

Rina bit her lip.

And *no one* else would have him.

Not Saraphina.

Not anyone.

She didn't care if she had to kill.

He was *hers*.

Whether he liked it or not.

And whether she liked it or not.