The crown makes the royal, the witch makes the ruler.
In a world where they are slandered, belittled, hated, and hunted down, witches are known to be ruthless and despicable. But in secret, they were once the ones making a kingdom rise and fall with...
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T/W: MENTION OF ANIMAL ABUSE, DEATH
─────────────────────;❞ LIAR ❝
Choyeon found Jay fast asleep. Every time she would look into their room, regardless of the sky's state, he was sleeping inside, head buried in pillows with his black hair-strands peeking out on top and body hidden under the covers.
She had never seen anyone sleep as safely and soundly as Jay. Like he had the most peaceful basic life. As if nothing could wake this man up.
So every time he complained that she kept him awake, she didn't believe him. How could he be so peaceful in his sleep and yet be so irritable the moment he woke up?
She leaned back to look down the corridor, every open and closed door. Her footsteps, trained to be soundless, led her to a door at the far end. It was the only room she hadn't been able to have a look at yet, as she'd always been stopped in her tracks by Jay's questioning eyes.
He must have thought that not remembering the location of their room meant she had no sense of orientation or was just plainly stupid. She had to stifle a chuckle at the thought of how gullible he could be at times and yet still had such a high opinion of himself.
The fancy silver door handle clicked in the silent corridor and the dark wooden view morphed into an almost laboratory-like picture.
Shelves overflowing with such abstract stuff, so off-putting to any normal human being (animal hearts, eyes, fur, bird feathers, animal and human skulls, mushrooms in every conceivable form, etc.), bottles with various colours and consistencies, beverages with names that perfectly represented their owner.
She took a deep breath and tried to concentrate. Her sharp eyes scanned the various books that were scattered around the room. On the floor, in the cupboards, near the cauldron.
It was too obvious.
He wouldn't keep it that simple for everyone to see. She focused on the shelves, so crowded that a normal mind would never see through the façade of the masses. In the analysis of the structure, the arrangement, the substances, her hand stopped just in front of the salted water —tears.
Behind it was a book bound in a dark leather case. She had found it. Just as she had taken it, the book fell to the floor and her wrist was held in a grip that was almost too tight to allow the blood to circulate. She met Lee Minho's deadly dagger like feline eyes.
