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... ed, she immediately made up her mind. Even if Emrys's character is not good and he has the nature of a villain, she would still train him. She was now 90% certain that her goal could be achieved through Emrys.

Later, when Emrys upgraded the Elite-leveled Green Soul Orb to Master Level and gave it away, she smiled. It became evident to her that Emrys was indeed a good person, dispelling any doubts about his character and heart.

However, when she witnessed him continue to waste Sou ...

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~•No Escape•~“Are you running away from me, my sweet girl” spoke a voice in the hallway that made her stop in her tracks. The hallway had turned dark with only the wall lamps that burned brightly casting the shadow of the man on the floor as he slowly emerged from the other end.“What are you doing here, your majesty,” She said and bowed immediately as she saw him approach her with slow but steady steps.“You haven't answered me, sweet” The man said with a sweet smile that made her wary and he heard the way her heart skipped a beat. He stood before her and used his index finger to raise her chin. He tilted his head as he gazed into her green eyes that looked back at him with fear.He took a step forward closing the distance between them and his eyes narrowed when she took a step back, but that didn't stop him from cornering her.“Did you think you can escape from me?” He continued to question and she didn't miss the mockery behind his words.“I…I” she felt her words tied to her tongue because of the man's daunting aura. She felt him trace her forehead with his finger down to her jaw. He continued moving his hand down to her neck and to the top of her swell and her thudding heart hitched when his hand continued to stay there.“Did you think you can escape from me?” He bent towards her as he spoke. His breath fell on her neck which sent a jolt that traveled down her body.“I told you, you're tied to me and me to you”_______________________Perdita Kartar was a winsome yet strange young lady. She had an appealing beauty with her green eyes that invoked and impelled anyone who gazed into them.She had fooled her villagers so she could live and protect herself and her remaining family from the night creatures and also humans.But what was bizarre of all, was that Perdita had a secret she shared with no one.She had lived in the village since she was little, and over the years, she had been discreet with each move she made. Unfortunately, things didn't go as she planned.Despite her cautious decorum and fight to stay out of sight, a pair of glacial red eyes falls on her, which followed and refused to leave her out of sight.

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“Ah…” She is so tickled that she is defenseless against his attacks. “You can choose to marry me or to die!” By then you will become the first person in history to die from tickling. “If you dare to reject me, I will make sure to ravish you until you yield to me.”

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“Coming live to you, from Cerou Street, this is MBP News, and we have an unfolding situation to report. Late last night, at approximately 3:00 AM, an explosive-like sound reverberated through this area, disrupting the sleep of residents and instilling fear in their hearts,” the news anchor, a striking figure, delivered the report with poise, standing before the camera amidst a bustling scene.

In the background, the blaring horns of ambulances and police vehicles disturbed the serenity of the beautiful morning light. Two individuals wearing protective suits, presumably forensic experts, held a stretcher carrying a charred body.

The news anchor, who had been reporting earlier, placed a hand on her ear, fitted with an earpiece, and looked visibly surprised. Her voice filled with urgency as she continued, “We have just received an update from our headquarters regarding the sole fatality in this unexpected incident. The victim of this tragic event is none other than Norman, the famous gigolo of Night palace.”

“My colleague, who was set to cover an event today at Nightplace, obtained this information firsthand from Countess Maria, who held a special place for Norman in her heart. Our focus this morning is on this breaking news,” the female news reporter continued amidst the chaotic scene, while Norman's charred body lay alone in the ambulance.

Meanwhile, in a different world, a young boy lay fast asleep with his head on the table. The sun, seemingly displeased with the boy's carefree slumber, cast its rays directly onto his face. Annoyed by the intrusion, the boy shifted his head in another direction, unwilling to be roused from his deep sleep.

*ZZZr Zzrz Zzrzzr* However, an additional source disturbed his sleep, filling the room with a buzzing sound. The boy furrowed his brows in annoyance, his eyes still closed. He searched his surroundings and discovered a glass-like slab. With closed eyes, he slid his finger across it and placed it near his ear.

“Hello...” he mumbled in his drowsy voice, which carried a hint of depth.

“Hey, Pissed-up Prat, where are you?” a voice laced with disdain emanated from the slab.

The boy, referred to as the “Pissed-up Prat” by the irritating female voice, recognized it as a voice he heard frequently but couldn't recall its owner. With his eyes still closed, he inquired, “Who is this?”

“What do you mean, 'who is this'? Wake up, come home, or eat shit for breakfast if you prefer!” the voice behind the transparent slab retorted before falling silent.

The boy, still not fully awakened, gazed at the half-opened glass slab with a mixture of confusion and surprise. As his eyes darted around the room, he became increasingly shocked.

As he recollected the fragmented memories from the night before he lost consciousness, his gaze fell upon the entrance of the shop. Once old and damp, it now bore a different appearance. While not transformed into a luxurious space, it had undergone improvements compared to its previously dilapidated state.

The shop took on a rectangular shape, with one longer side adorned with wooden shelves intricately patterned. Rows of empty glass jars lined these shelves. On the opposite side, there was another wooden shelf, also displaying empty jars. Towards the beginning of the counter, where the boy had been sleeping, there stood a peculiar machine.

Confusion etched across his face, he murmured to himself, “Whose shop is this?”

In response to his question, a mechanical voice resonated in his mind.

[The Omnistore belongs to you, host.]

……………………………………………………………

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