On the Eve of Our Wedding, She Died Beneath the Hairpin I Gave Her

The night before my wedding, I couldn't resist sneaking a look at my fiancée.

Unexpectedly, I was swept into the vortex of fate, and my life would never be peaceful again.

I pushed the door open. She lay on the bed in her wedding dress, a silver hairpin I'd given her lodged in her chest.

Her maid pointed at me and accused me of being the murderer.

I was sentenced to execution after the autumn harvest.

The night before my execution, someone brought me a letter.

Inside the envelope was the bloodstained hairpin.

The letter contained just four words: “We marry tomorrow.”

I'm about to be executed. What wedding? Who am I supposed to marry? Am I getting married in the underworld?