Arthur had precisely zero control over the situation.
One arm trapped in Cecilia's iron grip, the other held hostage by Seraphina. Two princesses, one goal—his absolute and total possession.
"Arthur is going to dance with me," Seraphina declared, her silver gaze glinting with quiet certainty.
Cecilia scoffed, rolling her crimson eyes. "Ha. Dream on. As if that would ever happen for someone like you, Ice Princess."
Seraphina's fingers tightened. "At least I don't treat people like toys, Witch."
"Both of you, stop fighting," Arthur tried, attempting to yank his arms free. Futile effort.
Cecilia and Seraphina weren't just strong—they were stubborn.
But before either of them could escalate further, Arthur vanished.
A blink. A shift. A warp.
The grand hall disappeared in a swirl of mana.
And when the world reformed, Arthur found himself somewhere completely different—his head resting comfortably on something soft.
A lap.
"Hehe, you're here now," a familiar, smug voice giggled.
