I Got Married to a Yandere Queen

Riven approached the woman slowly, his breath held, a dagger raised high in his right hand. Moonlight peeked through the night clouds, reflecting gently off the blade still damp with blood and the heavy mist. His shadow fell over the motionless figure lying in front of his home.

He knelt down.

One hand cautiously reached for the woman's shoulder. Her skin was cold, like stone that had long since lost its warmth. He pressed gently, shifting her body with a careful motion that made no sound.

She rolled weakly to the side.

Her long hair, red as smoldering embers, spilled across her face. But tonight, the moon seemed to show mercy. Its light slipped through the clouds and landed softly on her features.

And in that moment, the world stopped.

Riven's heart, which had been racing with tension, suddenly froze. The hand gripping his dagger hung motionless in the air. His eyes widened, disbelieving the sight before him.

This woman…

She wasn't just beautiful. She was beauty made manifest, something that didn't belong in a world like this. Her skin was pale, like marble kissed by life. Her face was delicate but not fragile, like a painting crafted by a god who forgot to hide it from mortals. Her lashes were long, shading her closed eyelids, and her lips—red and slightly parted—seemed as if they had just whispered their final words.

Her tangled, blood-red hair still carried grace, as if adorned with petals and gemstones. The black dress she wore, though torn and stained, clung elegantly to her frame. Her earrings and necklace shimmered faintly, chains of crimson gemstones catching the moonlight and the reflection of stained glass from the nearby window.

Riven couldn't look away. His gaze was caught, tangled in something invisible yet impossible to resist.

He had never, in this life or the one before, seen a figure like this. Not the famed actresses once praised as the world's most beautiful, not even the noblewomen glimpsed through palace windows. None of them came close.

His hand trembled.

"Who… is she…?"

Then he saw it, the wound.

Blood had soaked the lower half of her dress. A deep stab wound marred her stomach, still bleeding slowly. The gash ran nearly through her body, yet some final strength kept her alive. Barely.

That beauty... was wrapped in suffering.

Riven clenched his jaw. He inhaled sharply, trying to extinguish the strange feeling rising in his chest. Now was not the time to be awestruck. He shouldn't feel this way. He couldn't.

His eyes sharpened. The hand that had faltered now rose again.

"Should I kill her?"

The question came like a whisper, slippery and tempting.

He knew he could do it now, while she couldn't even open her eyes. He could end her life and protect himself and Mira from whatever threat this stranger might bring. The wound—clean, precise—spoke of a trained attacker. Someone had tried to kill her. She must have fled… all the way here.

Which meant someone was still looking for her.

And if they came and found Riven sheltering her—

He and Mira would die.

"Kill her," his mind urged. "Protect Mira. Dispose of the body. Pretend none of this ever happened."

But something within him held his hand back. Something unfamiliar. Something that wasn't logic.

A feeling he had never known, not during all his nights scavenging the battlefield.

The sense that he must not kill this woman.

That if he did, it would kill something inside him, too.

"Ridiculous," he thought.

Just a moment ago, he had ended a man's life without hesitation. Yet now, looking at her, he couldn't bring himself to move.

Riven looked again at her face, searching for a reason to ignore the pull in his chest. Hoping for a crack, a sign of illusion, magic, or trap.

But all he saw was a dying woman on his doorstep. Wounded, yet regal. Silent, yet full of untold stories.

And then—

"Riven!"

That voice.

It struck like lightning, scattering all thoughts and inner battles.

He turned quickly. There, emerging from the dark house and lit by flickering candlelight behind the window, was Mira.

She stood barefoot, breathless, her ragged clothes flapping in the cold wind. Her wide eyes were filled with fear.

Her face had gone pale.

Without hesitation, she ran to him, stumbling across the cold dirt. In silence, she looked at the woman lying at their door.

Then her gaze shifted to Riven.

He stood frozen, dagger still raised, its tip hovering above the stranger's chest.

Time halted again.

Riven saw himself reflected in Mira's eyes, a brother ready to strike down a defenseless woman. A man with bloodied hands, looming over a broken body.

He saw fear in her face.

Mira stopped a few steps away, eyes locked on him. Her lips trembled.

"What are you doing?!" she shouted, her voice shrill with panic.

Reflexively, Riven lowered his dagger. "Don't shout," he whispered quickly, voice low and urgent. "Keep your voice down."

The coldness in his tone made Mira flinch. She stared at him like he was a stranger. "What… are you saying…"

Riven moved closer, urgency in his eyes. "This place isn't safe. We have to leave. Right now," he said under his breath. "Someone tried to kill her. If she's still being hunted… we could be next."

Mira swallowed hard, her shoulders trembling. "But… this woman?" she whispered. "We can't just leave her…"

"We will," Riven cut in, cold and firm. "She's not our problem. We don't know who she is or why she's here. We have to protect ourselves, Mira. Understand?"

Silence.

Then—

SLAP!

The sound cracked through the night like thunder.

Riven's head snapped to the side. He blinked, stunned.

Mira stood with her hand still raised. Her eyes glistened with tears, lips trembling.

"You're not like this," she whispered, her voice breaking. "You're not the kind of person who leaves someone to die…"

Riven didn't respond.

For the first time that night, he stood still. Not out of fear. Not out of doubt. But because that slap hadn't just stopped his steps.

It had struck straight through his heart.