His Treasures in the Palm of My Hands

Crunch, crunch, crunch. That was all that Milan could hear. He stared into the void through the bars of a cage and watched a group of rabid dogs chew on a person locked inside with them. However, no matter how terrifying the scene was, all Milan did was stare.

Then a dainty hand with slender fingers reached out to make him face away from the scene. Her fingers had bejeweled rings with thick bands that grew as cold as the room. With just one touch, Milan quickly woke up from his strange trance. He looked up and saw a rather beautiful woman. She seemed to be as delicate and exquisite as the timeless statues carved in marble.

However, unlike them, her lips were as red as blood, and her eyes were like the green of first light. Mauve Beaufort never looked any less of a goddess.