From Rags to God of War

The Mission Isn't Over

Serafina stumbled into her father's house in a complete mess. She walked in, looking for her father, Lord Gideon, who was sitting calmly in the main hall.

Lord Gideon lifted his head, gazing at his daughter with a cold stare. "Where have you been? Why do you look such a wreck?"

Serafina looked at her father, her eyes burning with fury. "Why, Father? Why didn't you ever tell me?"

Lord Gideon rose to his feet. "Tell you what? What's going on?"

"About the Fire Lion Clan's inherited knowledge!" Serafina screamed, her voice raw. "Why can't it be passed down to women? Why did you hide this truth from me?"

SLAP!

A harsh slap landed on Serafina's cheek. Her head snapped to the side, a sharp sting spreading across her face. Her father had never hit her this hard before.

"You foolish girl!" Lord Gideon roared, his voice trembling with suppressed anger. "You're humiliating the Fire Lion Clan! Why do you even need to know such things? You stole the sacred book, you fought Nicholas, you risked your own reputation! It's destiny! Destiny cannot be changed! What are you trying to prove?"

Serafina clutched her reddening cheek. "Destiny? So, because of destiny, I have to be weak forever? I'm not allowed to have power? I can't defend myself? I've trained so hard, Father! I fought with all I had, but it was all for nothing because of some stupid fate!"

"Silence!" Lord Gideon growled. "You're foolish and impulsive! What did you learn from that stolen book? I never taught you because it would hurt you, drain your soul, leave you dying. It's useless!"

"But why is Nicholas so strong?" Serafina demanded. "He can even defeat me with ease! He knows the secret, right? He's the one who told me!"

Lord Gideon stared intensely. "Nicholas is indeed strong. Very strong. He's no ordinary man." A thin, malevolent smile formed on Lord Gideon's face. "Don't worry. I'll take care of him. He will pay dearly for daring to toy with the honor of the Fire Lion Clan. Just wait for the right moment."

...

That night, Nicholas came home when everyone was sound asleep. He walked straight to the bathroom, washing off the dirt and grime. The smell of earth and sweat still clung to him. After that, he tossed his dirty shirt and pants into the laundry basket.

In the morning, Isabella woke up early. She noticed the overflowing laundry basket. Nicholas's white shirt from last night was incredibly dirty, with brown stains and a slight tear on the sleeve. This wasn't the first time Nicholas had come home with dirty, dusty clothes after his nocturnal wanderings.

Isabella picked up the shirt, looking at it puzzled. "Nicholas! Nicholas!" she called out to her husband, who was still fast asleep.

Nicholas stirred, slowly opening his eyes. "What is it, Isabella?"

"Why are your clothes always so dirty like this every time you come home late?" Isabella showed him the shirt. "What exactly *is* your job anyway? Were you fighting or something?"

Nicholas scratched his head, pretending to think. "Oh, that. Last night I was helping clean out the old company warehouse. Lots of dust and broken stuff. That's why it's so dirty." He deliberately made his explanation sound reasonable but boring.

Isabella snorted. "Next time, don't let your clothes get this dirty again. I get a headache having to wash clothes like this every day."

"Yeah, yeah, I promise," Nicholas nodded obediently.

Isabella looked at Nicholas, observing her husband's appearance. His clothes were always simple, you could even say a bit worn-out. Plain t-shirts, regular jeans, no brand names. Yet, she was the wife of a manager at a giant corporate group.

"Nicholas," Isabella said, her tone suddenly serious. "I've noticed, you always wear the same few outfits. Why don't you ever wear nice clothes?"

Nicholas looked down at his clothes. "What's wrong with them? I just like these kinds of clothes. They're comfortable."

"Comfortable, sure. But... I'm embarrassed," Isabella admitted. "Look at me. I always wear designer clothes, and you? People will whisper that I have a husband who's not good enough for me."

Nicholas just shrugged. "Let them whisper. So what?"

"Nicholas, you're my husband! I don't want you looking scruffy!" Isabella insisted. "That's it, we're going shopping today. I'm going to buy you some really nice clothes. Everything has to be designer!"

Nicholas frowned. "No need, Isabella. I'm not really used to expensive clothes."

"No arguing!" Isabella cut him off. "I'm tired of being embarrassed like this. Bottom line, today you're trying on everything I pick out for you."

...

At a high-end mall, Isabella dragged Nicholas from one designer store to another. Nicholas looked visibly uncomfortable, his eyes kept darting to the floor, while Isabella enthusiastically picked out clothes for him.

"Try this on, Nicholas! It'll look great on you," Isabella said, handing him an expensive shirt from a high-end brand.

Nicholas reluctantly went into the changing room. He came out a few minutes later, wearing a crisp shirt and well-fitting dress pants. He looked way more handsome.

Isabella squealed with delight. "See! Told ya! You look absolutely dashing!"

Nicholas looked at his reflection in the mirror. He certainly looked different, more sophisticated. But he still felt awkward in all these fancy clothes.

"How much does this cost?" Nicholas asked.

"Don't even worry about the price," Isabella smiled. "I'm paying." She whipped out her platinum credit card without hesitation.

Several pairs of eyes in the store were whispering. "Look at that! Husband getting paid for by his wife? He must be a freeloading kept man." "Does he not have money? He's so good-looking, too."

Nicholas heard all the whispers, but he kept a straight face, as if he hadn't heard a thing.

Isabella bought Nicholas several suits, shirts, pants, shoes, and even a luxurious watch. Nicholas, who had initially looked like an average guy, was now transformed into an elegant and charismatic metropolitan man. His handsome face was even more striking.

When they walked out of the last store, carrying numerous branded paper bags, several teenage girls passing by stared at Nicholas with sparkling eyes.

"Wow, he's so hot!"

"Check him out! So cool!"

Isabella noticed their reactions. A satisfied smile played on her lips. She was glad Nicholas now looked worthy of being by her side. But a hint of possessiveness started to emerge.

As they were about to get into the car, Isabella stopped Nicholas. She tugged on his shirt collar, pulling their faces close. Their lips almost touched as Isabella whispered softly.

"Nicholas," her voice was barely audible, but it carried a warning. "Don't mess around, okay? You're mine." She paused, staring into his eyes. "And, from now on, these clothes better not get dirty and dusty again. I don't want you looking like you've just come from a battlefield."

Nicholas looked at her, a mysterious glint in his eyes that only appeared for a moment. "Of course, Isabella. I promise." He met Isabella's gaze, a faint smile on his lips.

Isabella shot a sharp glance at the girls who dared to ogle her husband. They quickly scurried away.