My Black Suit King

♱ •⋅ 1750 A.C. ⋅• ♱

There was much to be said regarding history, but nothing left me as stunned as this. The strong and warm arms of the man I had always dreamt of were around me, and he looked at me with a smile in his violet eyes that I admired so much.

He seemed real.

"What's wrong?" he asked me with a rough and gentle voice.

"Uh... nothing," I replied, questioning whether all of this was a dream or not. But he was still there, his eyes now closed as he held me in his embrace.

Indeed, this was one of the best dreams I had ever had.

"Sir," a masculine voice called out to him, and I saw Calisto raise his face with displeasure.

"What the hell do you want?" he grumbled.

"We've learned something that might interest you, sir," the man said, and a shiver ran down my spine.

"I'm busy," he said, burying his face in my back. I could feel his breath on my bare skin, and it made my face warm.

"Sir," the man persisted, and by this point, I already knew what would happen. I had read and reread that scene thousands of times, so I mentally repeated it as he spoke in perfect synchrony: "A girl has emerged in front of the Cathedral of Samael."

Calisto growled, and I could feel his fangs against my skin, but he hadn't bitten me. He was displeased.

"Then kill her already," he snarled.

"We couldn't, sir," the man said, and I involuntarily smiled.

Whether it was a dream or not, he was staying true to the book I had read so many times. And if it was him, if it was that scene... then I was...

My gaze wandered around the room, searching for a mirror, and when I found one, I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood.

Red hair like blood, ruby eyes without pupils, and skin pale as a corpse. There was no doubt I was Asra.

The king's concubine, who attempted to go against the saint sent by God, would not only heal the king's son but also win his heart and make him good again, as well as the cause of his death.

Calisto seemed irritated as he let go of me and sat on the bed.

"They need your king to handle something so stupid? What good are the princes?" he was bothered, but my eyes were occupied with his sculpted body, with every feature of his face.

No matter how many fanatics I had seen or how many times I had imagined it, I would never come close to the true beauty of Calisto.

Black hair cascaded down his back in messy waves, thanks to what we had done before. But, to my unfortunate luck, I wasn't even dreaming of this beautiful moment. His eyes were rose quartz.