The situation had taken a turn for the worse. Elena struggled to contain her amusement as she elegantly sipped her tea. Unexpectedly, Frederick En Surah’s anatomy had been irreversibly altered – a necessary step in Elena’s plan. In contrast, the four men sat frozen, as though enduring a frigid shower on a winter’s night. Elena could not fathom what the fuss was about; after all, what was the big deal with a mere separation?
“How is this even possible?” Portwall stuttered, his body shaking with fear. He felt as though he had just heard a ghost story he should not have listened to. He had gone to bed and woken up with a life-altering change. His once-virile anatomy had been reduced to a flaccid appendage, with only two testicles remaining. Regardless of his past transgressions, he couldn’t imagine why a higher power would permit such a fate. “I’d rather die…” he muttered, despondently.
Clarence, on the other hand, was trembling with fear. He was supposedly next in line in terms of being a man, but the thought of losing his manhood petrified him. Unlike many other members of the royal court society, Clarence was a rarity: a man who only had relations with his own wife. His behavior was often mocked and ridiculed, but he didn’t care. He enjoyed simple pleasures and reveled in a good fight. He preferred combat boxing over fencing and didn’t care about his opponent’s noble status. Even he, however, was horrified at the prospect of losing his masculinity.
Sidrain took a sip of his tea and contemplated the chilling question. “Really? I think being alive is still better,” he replied. The thought of being paralyzed from the waist down was a terrifying prospect, but he had no intention of giving up his nocturnal activities with Iris. In fact, he saw it as an opportunity to improve his weaknesses. Sidrain was a surprisingly optimistic man, even in the face of adversity.
But now, he felt exhausted and worn out. All he wanted was to sleep with Iris – desperately. He liked her, truly he did. But lately, he struggled to get into the right mood. Oh, Ruthna, why are you doing this to me? He was so drained that he didn’t even need to finish anymore, and it didn’t matter if Iris fell asleep halfway through. All he wanted was to push a little further…
Elena addressed the three gentlemen before her. “The rumor is spreading fast,” she said, with a sense of urgency.
Count Surah was eager to cover up the incident, especially since Margaret’s marriage to the Duke was imminent. Although Margaret still pretended to be Elena’s ally, Elena knew that Margaret was scheming to win over the Duke’s affections. At only twenty-six years old, Margaret was still considered young and inexperienced in the world of cunning noblewomen.
Margaret wanted to keep the incident quiet, but Frederick’s position was different. He woke up one day to find his genitals missing. Any man in his position would be beside himself with anger and frustration. He called in numerous physicians to try to reattach his genitals, but to no avail. Only a few “experts” said that he had been cursed by a powerful sorcerer.
“And we happen to know of a very powerful sorcerer,” Elena added.
Portwall’s expression turned grave. “Forgive me for saying so, but Iris Elaine has always been gentle and kind. I can’t believe she would do such a thing.”
Elena spoke with a sense of gravity. “But don’t forget, Iris Elaine has been nursing a grudge for a long time. And remember the incident on the mountain at midnight? It’s possible that it wasn’t just someone else’s problem.”
What if the princess of the Magic Tower, Iris Elaine, really wanted to cast a curse? How far would she take it? Portwall and Mutarion exchanged fearful glances, silently wondering if Sidrain could trust her. They couldn’t help but fret over the safety of their cherished brother’s body parts. Sidrain, however, grinned.
“I have faith in my wife, don’t I, Clarence?”
“Your Highness, you should always have complete trust in the one you love,” Clarence replied, his hand clasped with Elena’s, before gently kissing the back of her hand. Sidrain praised his words and sipped his tea with poise.
Portwall and Retendon’s expressions contorted in disgust. If that was love, they would rather mistake their own relationships as homosexual and engage in conversations reeking of violence and sweat. Their eyes met fleetingly.
I feel like killing you today, Retendon.
Retendon caught Portwall’s gaze and offered a small smile.
As fate would have it, I was thinking the same thing.
Elena addressed the group, “Given recent events, Your Highness, we need to adjust the plan. Our first priority is determining the Queen’s level of involvement.” All eyes turned to Sidrain, as the Queen had been tight-lipped about her intentions and he was in the dark about when and how the curse was cast.
“Is there any confirmation that Lady Iris is responsible?” Sidrain questioned while absently tapping his teacup. He acknowledged the likelihood of her guilt, but he couldn’t dismiss the possibility of another culprit. The last thing he wanted was to apprehend the wrong person, especially if it turned out to be Iris.
Elena opened her fan in response to Sidrain’s statement. “Encountering a truly frightening magician is rare in this world. Her Majesty witnessed a shocking event, and there is evidence to suggest that it was driven by strong emotions and shock,” she explained before shrugging her shoulders. “You’re familiar with Her Majesty’s anger, aren’t you?”
The gentlemen in attendance were reminded that even the queen bee had her limits.
“I understand,” Sidrain conceded, choosing not to argue further. However, he couldn’t help but wonder how he should broach the topic. How exactly does one ask if another man’s genitalia had been removed in front of his lover? The situation was delicate, to say the least, and even more so if the alleged perpetrator was Iris. In Sidrain’s estimation, she was the type to easily fall into misandry or harbor a deep-seated hatred towards men if things didn’t go her way. If that were the case, he would undoubtedly bear the brunt of her wrath.
Although he should ask, how should he ask?
It was awkward to ask if he had separated another man’s genitalia from his body in front of his beloved woman. Moreover, if the other party was Iris, it was even more awkward. In Sidrain’s eyes, she was the type to easily fall into misandry or harbor a deep-seated hatred towards men if things didn’t go her way. If that were the case, he would undoubtedly bear the brunt of her wrath.
The situation had taken a turn for the worse. Elena struggled to contain her amusement as she elegantly sipped her tea. Unexpectedly, Frederick En Surah’s anatomy had been irreversibly altered – a necessary step in Elena’s plan. In contrast, the four men sat frozen, as though enduring a frigid shower on a winter’s night. Elena could not fathom what the fuss was about; after all, what was the big deal with a mere separation?
“How is this even possible?” Portwall stuttered, his body shaking with fear. He felt as though he had just heard a ghost story he should not have listened to. He had gone to bed and woken up with a life-altering change. His once-virile anatomy had been reduced to a flaccid appendage, with only two testicles remaining. Regardless of his past transgressions, he couldn’t imagine why a higher power would permit such a fate. “I’d rather die…” he muttered, despondently.
Clarence, on the other hand, was trembling with fear. He was supposedly next in line in terms of being a man, but the thought of losing his manhood petrified him. Unlike many other members of the royal court society, Clarence was a rarity: a man who only had relations with his own wife. His behavior was often mocked and ridiculed, but he didn’t care. He enjoyed simple pleasures and reveled in a good fight. He preferred combat boxing over fencing and didn’t care about his opponent’s noble status. Even he, however, was horrified at the prospect of losing his masculinity.
Sidrain took a sip of his tea and contemplated the chilling question. “Really? I think being alive is still better,” he replied. The thought of being paralyzed from the waist down was a terrifying prospect, but he had no intention of giving up his nocturnal activities with Iris. In fact, he saw it as an opportunity to improve his weaknesses. Sidrain was a surprisingly optimistic man, even in the face of adversity.
But now, he felt exhausted and worn out. All he wanted was to sleep with Iris – desperately. He liked her, truly he did. But lately, he struggled to get into the right mood. Oh, Ruthna, why are you doing this to me? He was so drained that he didn’t even need to finish anymore, and it didn’t matter if Iris fell asleep halfway through. All he wanted was to push a little further…
Elena addressed the three gentlemen before her. “The rumor is spreading fast,” she said, with a sense of urgency.
Count Surah was eager to cover up the incident, especially since Margaret’s marriage to the Duke was imminent. Although Margaret still pretended to be Elena’s ally, Elena knew that Margaret was scheming to win over the Duke’s affections. At only twenty-six years old, Margaret was still considered young and inexperienced in the world of cunning noblewomen.
Margaret wanted to keep the incident quiet, but Frederick’s position was different. He woke up one day to find his genitals missing. Any man in his position would be beside himself with anger and frustration. He called in numerous physicians to try to reattach his genitals, but to no avail. Only a few “experts” said that he had been cursed by a powerful sorcerer.
“And we happen to know of a very powerful sorcerer,” Elena added.
Portwall’s expression turned grave. “Forgive me for saying so, but Iris Elaine has always been gentle and kind. I can’t believe she would do such a thing.”
Elena spoke with a sense of gravity. “But don’t forget, Iris Elaine has been nursing a grudge for a long time. And remember the incident on the mountain at midnight? It’s possible that it wasn’t just someone else’s problem.”
What if the princess of the Magic Tower, Iris Elaine, really wanted to cast a curse? How far would she take it? Portwall and Mutarion exchanged fearful glances, silently wondering if Sidrain could trust her. They couldn’t help but fret over the safety of their cherished brother’s body parts. Sidrain, however, grinned.
“I have faith in my wife, don’t I, Clarence?”
“Your Highness, you should always have complete trust in the one you love,” Clarence replied, his hand clasped with Elena’s, before gently kissing the back of her hand. Sidrain praised his words and sipped his tea with poise.
Portwall and Retendon’s expressions contorted in disgust. If that was love, they would rather mistake their own relationships as homosexual and engage in conversations reeking of violence and sweat. Their eyes met fleetingly.
I feel like killing you today, Retendon.
Retendon caught Portwall’s gaze and offered a small smile.
As fate would have it, I was thinking the same thing.
Elena addressed the group, “Given recent events, Your Highness, we need to adjust the plan. Our first priority is determining the Queen’s level of involvement.” All eyes turned to Sidrain, as the Queen had been tight-lipped about her intentions and he was in the dark about when and how the curse was cast.
“Is there any confirmation that Lady Iris is responsible?” Sidrain questioned while absently tapping his teacup. He acknowledged the likelihood of her guilt, but he couldn’t dismiss the possibility of another culprit. The last thing he wanted was to apprehend the wrong person, especially if it turned out to be Iris.
Elena opened her fan in response to Sidrain’s statement. “Encountering a truly frightening magician is rare in this world. Her Majesty witnessed a shocking event, and there is evidence to suggest that it was driven by strong emotions and shock,” she explained before shrugging her shoulders. “You’re familiar with Her Majesty’s anger, aren’t you?”
The gentlemen in attendance were reminded that even the queen bee had her limits.
“I understand,” Sidrain conceded, choosing not to argue further. However, he couldn’t help but wonder how he should broach the topic. How exactly does one ask if another man’s genitalia had been removed in front of his lover? The situation was delicate, to say the least, and even more so if the alleged perpetrator was Iris. In Sidrain’s estimation, she was the type to easily fall into misandry or harbor a deep-seated hatred towards men if things didn’t go her way. If that were the case, he would undoubtedly bear the brunt of her wrath.
Although he should ask, how should he ask?
It was awkward to ask if he had separated another man’s genitalia from his body in front of his beloved woman. Moreover, if the other party was Iris, it was even more awkward. In Sidrain’s eyes, she was the type to easily fall into misandry or harbor a deep-seated hatred towards men if things didn’t go her way. If that were the case, he would undoubtedly bear the brunt of her wrath.
