Divine Contract: Marrying My Phantom Prince

A week had passed since Clara's interview at the Historical Society gift shop.

Before she could fully settle into her new routine, however, she had another, more pressing appointment to deal with—one that had been looming over her head for weeks. She gripped the steering wheel of her beat-up Honda Civic—her late mother's car, still sputtering along despite its age—her knuckles white. The DMV instructor in the passenger seat was scribbling on a clipboard, his face completely blank.

"Pull over here," the man said.

Clara parallel parked perfectly. She had practiced this a hundred times with Audrey riding shotgun, her friend patient enough to endure Clara's white-knuckled death grip on the wheel.

The instructor looked up, a rare smile touching his lips. "Congratulations, Miss Lynn. You passed."

Clara let out a shriek of joy that made the man wince. "Thank you! Oh my god, thank you!"

An hour later, she was sitting in a bubble tea shop with Audrey, sucking on a mango smoothie with extra boba.

"I can't believe I passed!" Clara said, still buzzing from the adrenaline.

"I can't believe you passed on your first try," Audrey shot back, grinning. "It took me three attempts to get mine. You're a natural!"

"More like naturally terrified of failing," Clara shrugged. "And the interview—oh my god, Audrey, thank you again. I got the job. I start next week. I'm going to be working at an actual historical society gift shop. It's not the internship I wanted, but it's something."

"You are a real adult now," Audrey said, raising her cup. "A real adult who owes me a smoothie for getting her the interview."

Clara laughed. "Fair enough."

By the time Clara got back to her apartment, the sun was setting. She dropped her bag by the door and kicked off her shoes. It had been a perfect day. She wouldn't start the new job until Monday, but today felt like a celebration.

She made a cup of hot cocoa—using the good mix, the one with the mini marshmallows—and settled onto the couch. She opened her laptop and logged into the game.

The map loaded. Alex's little icon was moving north, away from the monastery and toward a mountain pass. The terrain looked treacherous, all jagged lines and snowdrifts.

She opened the in-game store. She had been saving carefully from her coffee shop tips, and after a week of skipping takeout, she had a little extra set aside for emergencies. This felt like an emergency.

A red warning box exploded across the screen, making her jump.

[!!! WARNING: The Mountain's Wrath is stirring! Ancient runes foretell a great collapse in the 'Pass of Laments' within three hours. Your followers are in grave danger!]

Clara stared at the screen. "Are you kidding me?"

Below the warning, two options appeared.

[Option A: Spend $4.99 to receive advanced warning of mountain instability and guide your followers to safety before disaster strikes.]

[Option B: Ignore the warning and hope for the best (Extremely High Risk — your followers may not survive).]

Clara groaned, letting her head fall back against the couch. "Four ninety-nine? I just bought you a roof!"

She looked at the screen. Alex's little icon was inching closer to the red zone. If she didn't pay, he would walk straight into danger. She knew how these games worked. It was a shakedown.

But she couldn't just let him die. She had already invested in him. She had fixed his monastery. He was her responsibility.

"This game is going to make me go broke," she muttered under her breath, reaching for her wallet. "But I can't let him walk into a death trap."

She clicked 'Pay'.

Alex rode at the head of the column, his horse picking its way carefully over the icy rocks. The wind was picking up, howling through the narrow pass ahead.

Silas rode up beside him, shouting over the gale. "Your Highness! The scouts report that this pass is prone to rockfalls in the winter. We should proceed with caution!"

Alex nodded. He was about to reply when a voice echoed in his skull.

It wasn't a sound that entered his ears. It was a thought that wasn't his own, dropped directly into his consciousness. It was a woman's voice, young and distinctly annoyed.

"...this game is going to make me go broke... but I can't let him walk into a death trap."

Alex yanked the reins back so hard his horse reared up, letting out a piercing whinny.

"Your Highness!" Silas grabbed Alex's bridle, steadying the horse.

Alex's heart was pounding in his ears. He looked around wildly. The soldiers were struggling against the wind, oblivious to the voice.

It was Her. The Guardian.

He had asked for a sign. He had asked for communication. And She had answered. But Her words were strange. 'Game'? Was that some divine term for a trial or a test? And 'broke'... the word felt alien, but the emotion behind it was unmistakable: frustration. Resentment. Concern.

She's warning me, Alex realized. She's telling me there's danger ahead—and it's costing her something to warn me.