Dawn broke slowly over the estate, bringing a golden light that spilled over the tiled roofs and roses heavy with dew.
Today was the day.
Adrian stood before a bronze mirror in his chambers while his attendants moved quietly around him. The atmosphere was solemn but not frantic. Everything had been planned—every movement, every fold of his garments, and every lantern had been placed with deliberate intent.
He wore layers of deep crimson silk, a color darker than blood but softer than fire. Silver-threaded roses climbed the fabric, blooming over his chest and concealing the unique birthmark beneath. His long black hair fell down his back like spilled ink, partially secured by a jade crown carved to look like woven petals.
When the attendants finished, they stepped back and looked at him in silence. Adrian studied his reflection. He did not see a political symbol or a person defined by a "gift." He saw himself: alive, steady, and chosen.
There was a soft knock at the door.
"It is time," Su Cheng's voice called from outside.
Adrian exhaled slowly. "Open it."
The courtyard had been transformed overnight. Silk banners hung from carved beams, and hundreds of lanterns glowed warmly against the morning light. The stone path leading to the central altar was lined with a carpet of rose petals.
There was no throne. There was no raised platform. Just an open circle under the sky.
Ten men were waiting.
Each wore robes in shades of deep red and wine, with unique patterns reflecting their distinct paths. Gu Han's robe had silver edges that resembled blades; Lin Qiyue's bore cloud patterns; Zhao Ming's shimmered with metallic thread; Shen Rui's had subtle green undertones. Mo Yan's was sharp and plain, while Liang Feng's looked like flowing water. Wei Jian's featured a perfectly symmetrical design, Tang Huo's was accented with flame patterns, Su Cheng's showed disciplined lines, and Bai Xuan's shimmered faintly like frost in the moonlight.
They stood in a circle, equally spaced. There was no hierarchy. No front. No back.
When Adrian entered, a profound quiet settled over the space. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath. He walked slowly down the petal-strewn path. This time, there were no awestruck whispers from a distant crowd. Ten pairs of eyes followed him—steady, unwavering, and present.
Adrian entered the center of the circle. The elder leading the ceremony stepped forward.
"Today," the elder began, "we witness something unprecedented in the history of the kingdom."
There was no crowd—only the necessary officials, guards, and a few trusted servants.
"This marriage exists because Adrian and these ten men have chosen each other freely," the elder continued. He turned to Adrian first. "Do you accept these ten men as your husbands, without hierarchy or rank?"
Adrian's voice was calm and clear. "I do."
There was no tremble, no hesitation.
The elder then turned to the circle. "Do each of you accept Adrian as your husband, vowing never to seek dominion over one another?"
One by one, they answered.
Gu Han's voice was deep and steady: "I do."
Lin Qiyue, Zhao Ming, Shen Rui, Mo Yan, Liang Feng, Wei Jian, Tang Huo, Su Cheng, and Bai Xuan each followed, their voices echoing the same vow. Their words were not a ritual obligation, but a conscious choice.
Departing from the traditional customs of kneeling, Adrian had redesigned the binding. Ten silk cords lay coiled on a silver tray. Adrian picked up the first one and walked toward Gu Han.
Gu Han's eyes did not waver as Adrian wrapped the cord loosely around their wrists. "This cord does not mean I own you," Adrian whispered. "It means we are allies."
Gu Han's thumb brushed faintly against Adrian's pulse. "Then we stand as equals."
Adrian moved through the circle, speaking a personal truth to each man as he bound their wrists.
To Lin Qiyue: "I want truth, not flattery."
To Zhao Ming: "I want profit without corruption."
To Shen Rui: "I want health before expectation."
To Mo Yan: "I do not want obedience, only loyalty that is chosen."
To Liang Feng: "I want peace without silence."
To Wei Jian: "I want justice without cruelty."
To Tang Huo: "I want strength without recklessness."
To Su Cheng: "I want duty without abandonment."
To Bai Xuan: "I want pride without rivalry."
Each cord was tied loosely—a symbol of connection, not a restriction. When the final knot was secured, the elder stepped forward.
"By law and by witness, you are bound."
A faint breeze swept through the courtyard, scattering petals. The rose birthmark beneath Adrian's robe felt warm—not painful, but vividly alive. He had died alone once, bleeding out on cold stone. Now, ten hands were bound to his.
A single ceremonial cup was brought forward.
In their tradition, wine symbolized shared fate.
Adrian lifted the cup first, taking a sip, before handing it to Gu Han.
The cup passed around the circle. No one rushed; no one faltered. When the empty cup was returned to the tray, the elder spoke the final blessing: "May your household stand united."
The ceremony ended not with applause, but with a powerful, quiet stillness.
As the officials stepped back, the tension of formality dissolved.
Tang Huo stretched his shoulders. "So, we're married."
Zhao Ming laughed. "You make it sound like we just signed a business contract."
Wei Jian replied dryly, "Technically, we did."
Soft laughter rippled through the group, and Adrian allowed himself a small smile.
Gu Han stepped closer, his voice low. "How do you feel?"
Adrian met his gaze. "Grounded."
As twilight deepened, a private banquet was held. There were no grand speeches, just shared food and quiet observation. Adrian sat at the center of the table with ten seats filled evenly around him. No one competed for proximity; no one demanded all his attention.
Shen Rui ensured Adrian ate properly; Mo Yan kept a vigilant but relaxed watch; Liang Feng's musicians played a gentle melody from the garden's edge.
Zhao Ming eventually raised his cup. "To the most complicated household in the land."
"To balance," Adrian added, clinking his cup against theirs.
Nightfall.
Later, when the banquet ended and the lanterns glowed softly across the estate, the eleven of them gathered one last time in the central courtyard.
"It begins," Adrian said quietly.
"There will be challenges. Jealousy, politics, and threats."
"Good," Tang Huo shrugged.
"Keeps things interesting," Zhao Ming smirked.
Adrian's gaze softened. "I will not always be strong."
Bai Xuan replied gently, "Then we will be."
The simplicity of the statement struck deeper than any grand declaration.
Adrian looked at each of them and said, "I choose you."
One by one, they answered: "We choose you."
For the first time since awakening in this world, Adrian did not feel like a rare object to be claimed. He felt like he belonged. He was no longer alone; they would face the future as one.