OSM_1015

[Mature content. No rape]
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"Mr. Archer!" She hurried her footsteps after the cop, who seemed to have already memorized the way out of the small two-story house.

"It's Adrien, not Archer," he said, not bothering to turn around and look at her as he turned the door knob.

"Fine." She rolled her eyes. "We need to talk, " she said, following him out of the house and closing the door behind her.

"I had enough time to spend with a dunderhead like you," she heard him say, and she fumed.

"How dare you?!" She fisted her palm furiously as she saw him walk past the little gate. "You son of a chameleon!"....

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In a world where mythical creatures like werewolves, vampires, and elves exist alongside humans, a long-standing war has left humans living in fear and captivity. Elves, once thriving, have become extinct due to the ongoing conflict. Alicia, the last surviving elf, is raised by Mrs. Anderson, whom she believes to be her biological mother.

However, when Alicia confronts a man named Adrien, whom she calls Mr. Archer, tensions rise. Adrien's apparent disdain for Alicia triggers a fiery exchange. Unbeknownst to Alicia, her unique heritage as the last elf will soon become a central focus in a world where mythical beings and humans clash.

This story promises intrigue, conflict, and a journey of self-discovery for Alicia as she grapples with her identity and the ongoing strife between mythical creatures and humans.

Hunting Down the Last Elf

The crowded market appeared to shimmer with heatwaves under the unrelenting assault of the scorching sun, giving the impression that molten gold was dancing on the cobblestone streets.

An enigmatic figure emerged from the burning fire, shrouded in obsidian shadows that seemed to absorb the light.

She moved through the winding passages and concealed nooks with the grace of a ghost, each stride filled with grace and purpose.

She had her hood drawn tightly over her head, a billowing canopy of darkness that hid her face in a shroud of mystery. She moved with the silent aplomb of a cat on the prowl, and the fabric clung to her perspiring skin.

Her motions were exquisite in perfection in the midst of the bright chaos, each footstep intentional and controlled, leaving barely a whisper in the marketplace's loudness.

The Package At The Doorstep