At the Abyanabad Imperial Palace, on a moonless night, a tranquil silence was occasionally punctuated by dogs barking. A round-arched window was open, its sheer curtains billowing as a black silhouette flashed, like an agile cat, into the room.
"Gulit..." a cold voice called.
"Who's there?"
"Hehe, haven't you recognized my voice in only a few days?"
A man slowly approached. He had a tall, slender figure and long hair that partly concealed his evil-looking eyes. With handsome features, including a prominent nose, his appearance was exceptionally refined, yet those half-hidden eyes emanated a casual wickedness. Dressed in an expensive, handmade black suit over a deep purple shirt, he resembled a purple, double-petaled datura flower, blooming brightly in the darkness.
He held a bouquet of roses, a wicked smile on his face. Gulit, sitting by the dressing table, couldn't help but tremble in fear as she watched him slowly approach.
The aura emanating from him made her shudder.
