***** The following morning; Inside a modest room that looked more like a temporary shelter than a place meant for living, a narrow bed pressed against one of the walls, barely wide enough for two people pressed skin-to-skin. At this moment, the room was shrouded in a silence so profound that it almost felt tangible... that even the faintest scrape of an ant on the carpet would have sounded deafening. The only thing breaking this silence right now was the slow, steady rhythm of calm breathing. But then… Craaack! Craaack!! Craaack!!! The sharp sounds of bones cracking erupted like fireworks, violently shattering the stillness. Almost immediately after, a figure stirred on the bed, slowly and groggily pushing himself upright. His movements were sluggish, his body driven more by habit rather than awareness. And who would this person be if not the Supreme War God, Zachariah? Once he sat up, he rubbed his eyes with the back of his palms and stretched again. Craaack!

***** After reaching the hotel the previous night, Zach had wanted nothing more than to sleep; after all, his schedule for the following day was packed… every hour accounted for. So, he had gone straight to bed without eating. But… sleep had refused him. No matter how much he tried, his eyes wouldn’t stay closed. He had tossed and turned endlessly on the bed, the unfamiliar ceiling doing nothing to anchor his thoughts. Each time he closed his eyes, his memories of the city crept violently into his mind. Perhaps it was because he hadn’t returned in over a decade, or maybe the city itself remembered him. Either way, they had come crashing down on him… unrefined, vivid, and merciless. For over two hours, recollection after recollection had assaulted him. Some were familiar… the ones that had haunted him for years, resurfacing again and again, no matter how deeply he tried to bury them. The others were forgotten moments, all of them clawing their way back to the surfac

***** According to the woman, it was the twentieth anniversary of her mother’s death that day. However, not only had her father, stepmother, and half-siblings refused to commemorate it, but they had also cruelly and shamelessly forbidden her from doing so. They had claimed the family was in a celebratory season, and mourning would be inauspicious, bad luck, and a stain on happiness. So, the day her mother should have been remembered, honored, and spoken of with reverence… was erased. If anything, the house had buzzed with preparations… flowers set in place, gifts neatly wrapped, and everywhere scrubbed to perfection, all for the arrival of her sister’s fiancé, a high-ranking army general due to return the very next day. As for herself? She had been dragged into a sitting room and paraded in front of one scum after another… men with dubious histories, greedy eyes, and smiles that felt like hands crawling over her skin. Her father had spoken proudly while her stepmother ha

***** Still seated on the edge of the bed, Zach had no idea how to react for the first time in years. So, he simply watched Angela. He had expected confusion and maybe even tears, after all, she had just lost her first time in a moment of drunkenness. But this… ‘Pervert?’ He was the Supreme War God of Country Aran, yet here he was, reduced to a common criminal with a single word. Not waiting for him to speak, however, Angela glared at Zach as though he was the filthiest, most contaminating thing she had ever laid eyes on, her eyes burning with disgust and pure hostility. “Pervert! How did you get into my room?!” she roared again… this time, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. She shot daggers at Zach as though she was only seconds away from either screaming for help or lunging at him. But then suddenly… as though both of them had just realized something, they paused, the air itself seemingly locked in place. In the next second, Angela shivered slightly, her chest risi

***** Never in Angela’s life had she anticipated losing her first time in this manner, yet… Her eyes turned bloodshot and glassy before she even realized it, tears flooding them so fast that they spilled over before she could even blink. Then her entire body shook even more violently, trembling as though she were standing naked in a storm. “You bastard!!!” she screamed again, looking utterly traumatized and devastated now. In the following second, Angela… no longer fearing the stranger or caring about anything else, lunged forward, scrambling back onto the bed and hurling herself at Zach with sheer recklessness. Following this, her fists rained down hysterically on his chest, shoulders, and anywhere she could reach, each strike clumsy but fueled by terror, hatred, and fury. “How dare you? How… how dare you!!!” She sobbed bitterly, her voice breaking as she struck him again and again, tears streaming down her cheeks, her nose running as she sniffed sharply between cries.