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Chapter Text

The air in Zahard’s floating palace was thick, not with shinsu, but with the weight of history itself. This was the very place where decisions were made that shaped the Tower. Where Family Heads once knelt before the King. Where battles of ideology had been won without a single drop of blood spilled.

And now, Baam stood at its center.

Her dark eyes, filled with quiet determination, met the golden gaze of King Zahard.

She had seen many powerful figures—Ha Jinsung, Kallavan, even Urek Mazino—but none had felt quite like this. Zahard was something beyond strength, beyond mere power. He was a symbol, an existence so deeply ingrained in the Tower that he might as well be a part of its foundation.

Yet, even before this overwhelming presence, Baam did not lower her gaze.

She had faced kings before.

“Become my queen.”

The words were spoken with an eerie calm. A statement, not a question.

Baam barely had time to register them before the tension in the room shifted.

Around her, the royal guards stood frozen, some with widened eyes, others exchanging wary glances. Even the Princesses present—Adori Zahard herself among them—visibly stiffened.

Baam narrowed her eyes. “What?”

Zahard leaned back in his throne, resting his chin on one hand, eyes unreadable. “You heard me.”

Baam didn’t respond immediately.

She had expected a battle. A fight for her life. A test of strength or a challenge to her very existence. But this?

She had not expected this.

“I came here,” Baam said slowly, “to talk about the irregulars you’ve sealed. To understand why the Tower is the way it is.”

Zahard tilted his head slightly. “And yet, here we are, discussing your future instead.”

Her hands clenched at her sides. “You can’t seriously be—”

“Baam.” Zahard’s voice was light, but it commanded attention. “You are not a fool. You have climbed higher, faster, and with more mastery than anyone in history. You wield power unlike any before you. You have no family name, no ties to a Great House, yet even now, the Great Families whisper about your potential.”

He leaned forward, gaze sharp.

“You are not just an irregular anymore. You are a threat. A force of change.”

Baam felt the weight of those words settle in her chest.

“You can either fight me,” Zahard continued, his voice slow, measured, “and be hunted for eternity… or you can stand beside me and shape the future of the Tower from within.”

The room was deathly silent.

Baam exhaled slowly. She could feel the eyes of Adori, of the royal guards, of every hidden observer in the palace drilling into her, waiting for her response.

Was this manipulation? Was this a means to control her?

Of course.

But Zahard was not Kallavan. He was not a brute seeking submission through raw power. This was politics at its highest level.

He wasn’t just trying to control her—he was making sure she was bound to him in a way that even the Great Families could not challenge.

The first Queen of Zahard…

A shackle wrapped in the illusion of a crown.

“Take your time,” Zahard said lightly, as if this was a mere discussion of trade, not a proposal that could alter the entire Tower. “I can wait.”

Baam’s jaw tightened.

She could fight. She could try to run. But in doing so, she would drag everyone down with her.

Her friends. Her master. Even those who had chosen to follow her without hesitation.

She had always fought with all her strength. But this wasn’t a battle of fists.

This was a battle of choices.

And no matter how much she hated it…

She knew what she had to do.

Her hand curled into a fist.

And she chose.

Chapter Text

The news spread through the Tower like wildfire.

It was impossible, unthinkable. The King of the Tower, who had never once taken a Queen, had chosen Baam, an irregular, as his bride.

The reactions were immediate.

The Great Families

Po Bidau Gustang closed his book with a soft thud, his expression unreadable. “Fascinating. This changes things significantly.”

Ha Yurin merely scoffed. “That girl never does anything simple, does she?”

Khun Eduan, on the other hand, laughed. A sharp, incredulous laugh. “That little brat! Hah! I don’t know whether to be impressed or concerned.”

Khun, Rak, and the Others

Khun stared at the announcement in silence.

“Baam… what the hell are you doing?”

His hands clenched into fists. This wasn’t right. Baam wouldn’t just accept this—not without a reason.

There was something else going on.

Rak, meanwhile, shattered a table with a single slam of his fist. “STUPID TURTLE! I’LL CRUSH THAT FAKE KING MYSELF!”

Yuri Zahard, standing nearby, crossed her arms, expression dark. “She better have a damn good plan, or I’m storming that palace myself.”

Urek Mazino’s Reaction

“WHAT?!”

Urek roared in laughter, slapping a nearby ranker on the back so hard they collapsed.

“Baam, baby, you just became the biggest wildcard in Tower history!”

He grinned, eyes burning with excitement. “Guess I better start getting involved again, huh?”

Zahard’s Palace – The Night Before the Coronation

Baam stood on the balcony of her new chambers, the vast expanse of the floating palace stretching beneath her.

She had agreed.

She had chosen.

But the game was far from over.

A voice spoke behind her.

“You understand what this means, don’t you?”

She turned.

Zahard stood there, golden eyes unreadable.

Baam met his gaze head-on.

“I do.”

“Good.” His lips curled into something not quite a smile. “Then let’s begin.”

Chapter Text

Baam had faced many battles. She had fought Zahard’s army, clashed with High Rankers, and survived trials meant to break even the strongest.

But this—standing in the heart of Zahard’s floating palace, dressed in ceremonial gold and black—felt like the most dangerous moment of all.

The throne room was vast, grand in a way that only the King’s domain could be. The insignias of the Great Families lined the marble pillars, an eternal reminder of the Tower’s rulers. Beneath her, an ocean of High Rankers, nobles, and Zahard’s most loyal subjects watched in absolute silence.

Baam stood at the center of it all.

A Queen in name. A prisoner in truth.

At the far end of the hall, Zahard himself sat upon his throne, clad in royal gold, his golden eyes unreadable.

Adori Zahard, the strongest Princess, stood to his right. She was expressionless, but Baam could feel the weight of her gaze—analyzing, assessing, waiting for any sign of weakness.

Khun Eduan, Arie Hon, and Ha Yurin had not bothered to attend. The Great Families were split, some intrigued, some outraged, some indifferent.

Baam knew why.

She wasn’t one of them.

She was an irregular. A force that didn’t belong in the system. A threat.

And now she had taken a place at its highest seat.

The High Priest of Zahard stood before her, an ancient Ranker who had lived since the age of the great conquest. He raised his staff, his voice booming through the hall.

“Let it be known throughout the Tower—the King has chosen his Queen.”

A murmur rippled through the gathered Rankers. Some bowed in silent acknowledgment, others barely concealed their contempt.

Baam remained still. She felt the invisible strings tightening around her, each ceremony, each vow another thread pulling her into the web of Zahard’s reign.

But she had to be here.

For the answers buried within the Tower.

For the sealed irregulars.

For the power to change everything.

The priest turned to her. “Do you, Baam, accept the will of the King?”

Baam lifted her chin.

“I do.”

The words tasted foreign, but she spoke them without hesitation.

There was no turning back.

The priest nodded and turned to Zahard.

“And do you, Zahard, accept—”

“I do,” Zahard interrupted, his golden gaze locked onto Baam.

For a moment, the air felt thick with unspoken meaning.

Then, the priest slammed his staff against the floor.

“Then let it be known—the Queen of Zahard is crowned!”

The hall erupted. Some cheered. Some whispered. Some simply watched, waiting to see what kind of ruler Baam would become.

Baam barely registered it.

Instead, she felt the weight of the golden crown placed upon her head.

Heavy.

Like the Tower itself had settled on her shoulders.

She met Zahard’s gaze.

The game had truly begun.