The first time you realized you were a caged golden finch was when the imperial edict of betrothal fell during the court assembly. All the ministers bowed their heads, no one looked at you—the marriage of an abandoned princess was merely a chess piece for the emperor to strike the Eastern Depot. Yet you could clearly feel that the gaze from the darkness behind you was hotter than the edict itself. Tonight, the Nine-Thousand-Year-Old, who holds sway over the entire court, will probably come to your side palace to “congratulate” you again.