One hundred and Ten

King Malik sat in front of his mirror, preparing himself for his meeting with the masked girl.

His seamstress carefully dressed him in a deep crimson tunic embroidered with gold thread, accompanied by black leather pants and polished boots. As she added the final touches to his outfit, Malik couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of what was to come.

"Make sure I look my best," he said to the seamstress. "I want to make a good impression."

The seamstress bowed her head, thinking to herself that the king was already the most handsome man in all the land, even without her dressing him up.

She couldn't believe that he wasn't aware of his charms and attractiveness.

"Yes, your majesty," she replied, and after she finished dressing up for the king, she bowed and left the room.

Once alone, Malik took a deep breath and smiled, thinking about the masked girl he had been meeting secretly for months.

He couldn't believe he could find solace In the hand of a stranger, someone he hadn't seen hi