Please tell me how it's going. I would love to hear it all. Who do you think is the brute that has caught out empress's attention? What did Sierra do to afford all of it? Most importantly, what's the next move?
The Phoenix Citadel is where elites eat, treat, party, shop, and relax while they stay in Duong. A magnificent white property near Seoraksan Hill, Phoenix, if not heaven, it is closest to the heaven that the labour class of Duong have. But… ‘I don’t think it’s anything extraordinary to be honest. I think it’s overrated.’ I speak, headless of the audience. ‘In fact, I find remarkable resemblance between this place and the opera house in the northern-region of Cercenoni. You remember the ancient Manor cum museum on the hill?’ I wash my mouth with the vine and wipe the wetness away with a tissue. Stretched over three acres, it is sparkling white with golden rims, a grandeur fountain, and a cluster of imperial palm trees to fence all of its fronts. It’s a niche, vandalising expensive, and has been a dream destination for staff of Khanum like us. And if I’d be honest, I have never imagined myself sitting in this regal estate if it were not for Sierra’s treat for the time being. It
I’m fucked. Freaking screwed! Hurry, Code Yellow. Code Yellow everyone. I send the message and impatiently wait for the reply while tapping the footpath with my toe. I sneak glances at Ishit’s back and heave a breath I did not know I am holding. Fortunately, I do not have to wait for long. My phone pings an incoming text almost instantly. With a peep at the screen, I find it to be from Sierra—my saviour who does not wear underwear on top of her polka dot pyjamas. She wears it in the manner it should with no quilt tied around her neck. Sup Bitch? It reads. Yeah, what are you up to? Getting laid already? He isn’t using protection? Want to marry you off already? Wolves are super clingy, I am telling you. Julie rambles unfiltered. Honestly, I expect as much from her. She is sort of an over-enthusiastic overthinker type. Before I could answer, another text pops in. I told you to invest in some undergarments and a SHOWER! Now he will see your Doraemon undies and think you are a freakin
‘I…Umm…’ I fidget with my fingers nervously, using my long tresses to veil my flustered face. Damn, you! Stop staring at me with those hypnotising eyes. Your beautiful eyes do funny things to me that are not beautiful. They make me think things I should not be thinking. They make me…dream and I don’t want to dream. I cannot afford them. My truth is ugly. It’s unbearable. I need lies. Yes! A fresh lot of lies can be covered up for romantic bullshit. Get a grip on yourself, Lizzy. I curse under my breath. ‘At least let her sit in first, Ibh–Sir. You can talk on the way. Please, Ma’am.’ The driver motions me towards the backseat with a practised bow and a stretch of his hand. His puffy eyes gleam with amusement. A lopsided grin plays on his face. My cheeks catch a darker shade of pink at the realisation. I have been sandwiched between two divine existences of glamour and masculine temptation which makes me wonder—how long has it been since I have copulated? More than three years, eh?
‘Another Left, you said?’ Kavish asks the third time, peeping at me through the rear-view while my brain is still weaving through the endless number of faces I might have seen in my life. None resembles his. And it is exhausting for me. I could not figure out his identity. Surely, he cannot just be a bodyguard to the hunk licking ice-cream from his fingers innocently oblivious to the sensation he is leaving in my p****y. Newspapers? Tabloid? Billboard? On a condom pack? The misty green eyes rake over me rather suspiciously. And what have I, your royal highness, done to earn the glances? It’s a long story and may have everything to do with the amount of lefts I have been telling him to take from the past ten minutes or something. Where do those lefts take me? I don’t bloody care. ‘Besides. Nothing is ever right in my life. Why refrain myself from taking all the wrong lefts.’ I mumble under my breath not loud enough for either of them to hear it. The icecream is over—mine is—becau
A diminishing fireball peeps from the dark adamant cloud. It struggles to make its appearance once in a while and gives up when the heavy clouds deny giving way. The air is soothingly chilly and so is the rainy climate. Duong is drenched with occasional drizzles accompanied by heavy downpours. Alongside ferocious thunder and reckless wind echoed high notes and beats in the surrounding neighborhoods, scaring away the flying creatures. The master at the piano is an aged expert who has witnessed and survived more monsoons than there are creatures on the planet; the neverending Daeyang. The vastness of the ocean resembles a ballerina twirling in delight. It moves in synchronisation with nature posing challenges to the vessels struck in its belly. Sometimes it would engulf the vessels in its long, wet arms from all sides and sweep the crews across one edge of the board to another, earning curses and shrills of protest over its mischief. Other times, it would melt into jelly and swin
The hotel reeks of power and luxury even from its back profile. There are floors on floors with glass windows, balconies overlooking the marvellous ocean, and palm trees. At a quarter to ten, it is illuminated brightly with glittering lights, chandeliers, and enchanting fountains. ‘This place is…’ ‘Awesome. Damn! I never knew something like this existed anywhere near Duong. It’s like we are–’ ‘Back in our castles. Dude, I missed this life so fucking much.’ Julie whistles, opening her slender arms wide open. ‘Hey! You, there!’ A voice yells from somewhere behind. ‘Stop goofing around and bring your cunt here. We ain’t have all night. Lemme count you, pussies. Line up!’ The in-charge—I honestly have no idea what a whore-manager is called—brandishes in a drunken slurry voice that urges me to punch the life out of him. ‘Ugh! Can we increase the number of kills we are allowed? I badly want to smack this pimp to Halujava island.’ Sierra snarls under her breath, glaring daggers at the
‘Holy Moly!’ My mouth falls open as soon as we pass the dim, stinky back corridor that opens in an adjacent hall. The hall resembles…well a hall. What else would an open space with lounges, big portraits of grinning wolves, stupid vases and glass windows look like? It’s your regular waiting lounge irrespective of the location and it kicks me pathetically back in nostalgia. ‘I miss my castle so much.’ Ella pouts. ‘I miss it too, Sweety. Those yellow and red roses. Those flower beds, our study, the painting room, the soft fluffy bed, our living room with those special lights that we especially imported from Vampan, and the closet. My clothes!’ I miss all of it. I had modified every corner of My Manor myself. From the colour on the walls to the hangers, pictures, and crockeries—I chose every single one of them myself. It was my special place. My kingdom where I had absolute control over my life. ‘Ahan.’ I signed. ‘I wonder if I’ll ever be able to get back to that place.’ ‘Alright, b
No. I won’t accept this. This cannot be happening. The lord cannot be this unfair. It has to be an error. Some clumsy mistake by my God’s stupid secretary on cocaine. That punk has to be high while scribbling my destiny. Trust me, it’s not common for someone to be an Empress once second and an escort the other. You have to be born in the wrong segment of time. Whatever! I want to strangle that dick. My life was not a fucking play toy to mess up. You, son of a bitch. No. I want a refund. My money back. This is a deficiency in service. Where can I sue God’s department for Assignment of Destiny? Anyone? No? Noooooooo. What am I supposed to do? Die? Out of all the filthy creatures in the world? Billions of permutations and combinations? It has to be him. In here? Gaah! I cannot take it. I am choking. I want to pass out. Dear Darkness, please engulf me. Take me? I wanna be dead. Anything just to get away from here…far, far away from this miserable world. ‘Umm…Empress? Are you ok