Reinar had only intended to embarrass Ilya, but that sound of a moan suddenly dragged him back to a certain night when she had begged him soulfully, sending an impulse close to losing control surging through him.
Today was Ilya’s wedding day.
The groom was not him.
Yet, here he was, alone with the bride.
Though the room was full, every soul present was a machine.
Reinar felt a thrill unlike anything he had ever experienced.
Adultery was, without question, the most stimulating endeavor in the world.
These simulated androids were the perfect props for heightening their excitement. They looked like real people, granting them the exquisite pleasure of sinning in public, yet they were not real, incapable of offering even a single word of moral condemnation.
It was now eleven in the morning, one hour shy of the official noon commencement.
If Ilya were willing, the two of them could manage a quick encounter.
He curled the corner of his lip in satisfaction, studying Ilya.
Ilya’s gaze was clouded, a mixture of struggle, fearful that something might go wrong at this critical juncture, yet simultaneously craving the illicit thrill.
Reinar sneered internally: A woman who wavers at the mere opening salvo? Dreaming of rising above others? Impossible!
He seemed to forget that he, too, was susceptible to such intensity.
Reinar made his decision swiftly. The moment the thought crystallized, he leaned over and lifted Ilya, who was seated on the **. “What are you doing?” Ilya gasped.
Every cell in Reinar’s body screamed to bite through the beauty’s scarlet lips, to press her down beneath him, utterly ignoring her question. He placed her on the coffee table, then dropped to one knee and hiked up her skirt.
—Compared to a soft bed, he preferred the unforgiving hardness of a table.
Slap—
A sharp slap cracked across Reinar’s face.
Ilya sat on the table, looking down at Reinar. He hadn’t expected her reason to suddenly snap back. Stung and furious, he rose, ready to pin her against the table.
The next second, Ilya kicked him hard between the legs with her stiletto heel. “Die!”
Reinar clutched his lower body, writhing on the floor in agony.
Ilya stood up with a cold laugh, returned to her original seat, smoothed out the long folds of her skirt, restored her ladylike composure, and stated icily, “Reinar, you have five minutes to leave this place, or I will call the police!”
Normally, Reinar would never consider leaving; he was certain Ilya wouldn’t dare call the authorities, as his ruin would ensure hers as well.
But his manhood truly, deeply hurt.
The last kick he took at the Silver Crest nearly ruined him; it took ages to recover. Now, another kick… Reinar stumbled backward, cradling his groin. He dared not use the main door, but just as he managed to stand, the doorbell chimed, accompanied by a clear voice: “Sister Ilya, may we come in?”
Reinar staggered, nearly collapsing.
He couldn't worry about niceties. Spotting a nearby wardrobe, he dove inside without hesitation and pulled the door shut.
Ilya narrowed her eyes slightly. “Of course.”
The door opened.
A throng of beautiful women stood at the entrance.
Leading them was her cousin, a girl who looked sweetly naive—it was impossible to tell if she was genuine or calculating. Behind her were eleven other sisters.
They were all dressed in white gowns, serving as Ilya’s backdrop. Thinking of the spotlight she was about to command, Ilya’s mood brightened considerably, and a smile curved her lips.
She was Ilya. No matter how desperately she needed a man, on this day that would change her destiny, she absolutely would not permit a single flaw to surface.
She had waited too long, far too long, for this day.
The sweetly naive cousin rushed forward happily: “You’ll be on soon, Sister! Are you nervous?”
Ilya lowered her head slightly, feigning shyness. “A little. How is it outside?”
The cousin exclaimed in awe, “I’ve never seen such a spectacular scene! So many, many people have arrived, so many reporters! Sister, you are amazing for securing so many guests!”
Ilya smiled faintly. “It’s not me who is amazing, it’s my future husband.”
The cousin pouted discontentedly. “I’ve been here quite a while and still haven’t seen the future brother-in-law.”
Ilya simply smiled. “You’ll see him soon enough. Don’t be impatient.”
The cousin and the group of girls laughed reservedly, settling into the ** arranged on either side of Ilya.
Just then, a muffled thump came from inside the wardrobe.
The cousin blinked in surprise. “What was that noise?”
Ilya’s palms instantly broke into a sweat. She thought: If Reinar ruins this, she will flay him alive!
But a teasing smile played on her lips: “It’s you girls. You’ve collapsed the bed.”
Several girls immediately jumped up. “No way! Isn’t this Coley’s most luxurious hotel? How can the bed be so flimsy? What if it cracks while we’re rolling around?”
The group giggled merrily.
Thankfully, no more strange noises emanated from the wardrobe.
Ilya’s tension eased slightly. She gently tapped her cousin’s cheek with her slender finger. “Ah, you! Good thing there are no men here, or I don’t know what others might think of you.”
Speak of the devil.
The doorbell rang again, followed by a man’s voice laced with laughter: “Little Ya, I came to check on you.”
Ilya’s skin crawled the moment she recognized the voice.
The diligent robot opened the door.
Standing at the threshold was Ivan.
The cousin rushed over, pouting, “We were just saying there were no men here, and then you arrive! Tell me, were you eavesdropping on us?”
Ivan dramatically raised his hands. “Heaven is my witness, I truly didn’t. I just wanted an early peek at our Miss Ilya’s ensemble for today.” He then turned his head to look at Ilya.
The sight instantly filled his face with awe.
The cousin beamed proudly. “Cousin is definitely the most beautiful!”
Ivan gave a thumbs-up. “Stunningly beautiful! I’m truly envious of Karu!”
Ilya just smiled without replying.
Since she was the bride today, any comment, complimentary or critical, that she didn’t wish to address could be met with a simple smile.
Ivan moved beside Ilya. One of the girls immediately made space for him. After a few pleasantries, he edged closer, then suddenly leaned into Ilya’s ear. “I think… I saw Pezhe.”
Ilya shuddered, her body stiffening.
After a long moment, she managed to find her voice. “Is that true?”
Ivan shrugged. “I don’t know if it was real or not. I only caught a glimpse from a distance. By the time I walked over, he was gone.”
Ilya glanced sideways at Ivan and suddenly laughed. “Brother, you’re quite the deceiver.”
Ivan rubbed his nose and chuckled sheepishly. “You figured that out so quickly? I’ll give myself three extra drinks later as punishment.”
Ilya turned her face away, pretending not to see him.
Today was a monumental, special day. She didn't want anyone causing trouble, but any disruptor, including Reinar and Ivan, she would remember. One day, she would have her revenge!
The hour felt exceptionally long, and every minute, Ilya worried that another troublemaker would barge in.
With only ten minutes left until noon, all the staff—makeup artists, hairstylists, sisters, bridesmaids, flower girls—had entered the room to confirm all pre-ceremony preparations. Surrounded by the crowd, Ilya finally managed to shake off the psychological interference of the two men lurking in the wardrobe, adjusting her state, ready to step onto the battlefield.
For her, the wedding venue was a battlefield.
On the other side, Karu was also prepared. The two of them, flanked by the adoring crowd, walked out with shared glances. Karu wore the highest-grade black military uniform, every medal he had ever earned adorning his shoulders, radiating commanding presence.
High noon finally arrived.
Boom boom boom—
All the barium fireworks outside the hotel, outside the space station, launched simultaneously. The resulting seven-colored explosions instantly enveloped the entire station, lasting a full three minutes, successfully inscribing the event into interstellar history.
At the same moment, Ilya, clad in a diamond-encrusted wedding gown, appeared slowly alongside Karu before the assembled guests.
Ilya smiled serenely. In this moment, she was the protagonist.
She was the protagonist of the entire galaxy!
Her goal was to be the protagonist of the galaxy for her entire life!
However, the assembly stunned her!
The number of people present was far too small.
The entire right side belonged to the Interstellar Federation—mostly generals under Karu’s command, with the rest being heads and representatives of various departments.
The left side belonged to Fia’s contingent.
Fia had always opposed her union with Karu. Only a sparse few had shown up; Fia’s Queen was absent, and her father was not present either.
The media presence was also limited.
Across the galaxy, there were over a hundred major media outlets. Usually, for significant interstellar events like legion assemblies, all media would gather. For major legion events, there were still at least seventy or eighty outlets.
But today, only thirty or forty outlets had come to witness their wedding, and they clearly weren't the usual crews.
Where had all those people, those reporters, gone?
Ilya’s gaze swept slowly over the crowd, a wave of anger rising within her.
Who had stolen her thunder today?
Before her rage could fully manifest, she froze—because she saw one person.
That person’s demeanor, appearance, and expression were intensely familiar.
She immediately recalled what Ivan had told her: he thought he saw Pezhe. It was actually true.
Because she, too, saw Pezhe!
Pezhe sat at the far end of Fia’s section, distanced from Fia’s delegates, who hadn't noticed his presence at all.
Why wasn't he dead?
That was Ilya’s first thought. Then, steeling herself, she ruthlessly banished him from her line of sight. Whether he was truly Pezhe or not held no meaning for her now.
What mattered was that she was about to become Mrs. Karu Amanite.
Karu’s expression was also grim. He quietly asked the officiant, “Why are so few people here?” Weren’t the heads of all the legions supposed to attend? He didn't voice the second question, knowing it wasn't necessary to be so blunt.
But anyone who dared to humiliate him like this should not be surprised if he prepared a feast of traps!
-RS