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... splendour. She embodied regality, her demeanor poised and graceful on the surface, yet harbouring an untamed and passionate spirit within. As of this moment, every inch of her being was dedicated to him.

A smile tugged at his lips as he beheld her approaching him. He stood there, waiting, his arm extended for her to intertwine hers with his.

"What’s got you smiling like that?" Stella asked, closing the distance between them. His eyes twinkled with admiration as he gazed upon her. ...

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There is nothing in the world that cannot be solved by a transaction, if there is, then make a pure (ang) clean (zang) transaction.

If you say it, you may not believe it. The people who have traded with me are all over the world.

Trading is a great cause that is beneficial to physical and mental health and that people cannot refuse!

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As a princess that could not wield magic, Princess Daphne’s only value to her kingdom was her arranged marriage. The task was simple, but when Daphne gets kidnapped and brought to the cold mountains of Vramid, she realizes that she’s in over her head.

She had heard of these cursed mountains before― rocky terrain, freezing temperatures, and the land was ruled by a man feared by many within the continent.

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Even though she had never met him before, tales were spread of King Atticus’s ruthlessness. Some said he was a monster, others claimed he was the devil himself, but whatever the story was, everyone knew of the man who had powers beyond anyone’s imagination. He could topple armies and crumble nations with just one wave of his hand, aided by what others rumored to be a cursed obsidian ring.

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

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“Fair enough.” Atticus shrugged, and flicked his fingers.

There were two identical cracks as both necks snapped at once.

Daphne gasped, horrified. This man, her husband, had just killed two men with a flick of his finger, as though he was snuffing out candles.

“I told you to let them go!” Daphne cried out.

“Yes, I let them go,” Atticus said. Then, his eyes darkened. “To receive divine judgment from the heavens.”

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