Basville isn't his, but he makes the rules here.
It should be the opening day of the tournament for claiming the throne. Eligible warriors have arrived by the last night from every corner of this world, yet those people have to help others with the arrangements.
I don't get why they are all quiet. In their place, I would have left by then instead of working for someone like Abeloth, who means nothing to me or even my country. But my hands are tied now. So do the doors for my escape from this marriage.
My eyes travel toward the sofa set where I placed that gown last night. There is a history behind my dress. I didn't know why it looked so familiar to me, yet I wore it. I still don't think I deserve slut shaming just for the dress that holds elegance.
I still can't figure out what Abel
