A Barbaric Proposal - Chapter 1: A Bloody Courtship (1)

“Feng Tianyi! Your brother destroyed my Tang family! Is there anything good about your family?”

“En. Can’t you see how our good looking genes are passed on to our children? As for the Feng family’s debt, I will pay you.” He said nonchalantly.

Tang Moyu scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest.

“How will you pay for it?”

“How about I repay you with my body?”

“...”

So shameless!

The man sitting on his wheelchair burst into a round of laughter seeing her ugly expression.

“Miss Tang, it’s no point pretending you haven’t seen it since you practically climbed on my bed and took advantage of me.”

Five years ago, Tang Moyu was the empress of the business world and was at the peak of her career before she was reduced to nothing when her fiance fell in love with another woman. That was okay since there was no love between her and Feng Tianhua, but who would have thought that this ‘Cinderella’ was a wolf in sheep’s clothing?

Then there’s Feng Tianyi, the infamous successor of the Feng family, a critically acclaimed author who constantly rocked the bestselling list with his books. Rumors say that he was hot-headed and temperamental. He was so ruthless, that neither men nor women wanted his company. The rumors even say that his face was so handsome and out of this world. He was practically a god amongst men. It was a pity that he was crippled.

The two were never meant to meet again, but a pair of sweet little buns intervened.

“Uncle, we don’t have money to pay you for damages.” The elder Little Bun said.

“My manuscripts are invaluable,” This handsome uncle replied with amusement.

“Uncle, if you don’t mind, can we pay with our Mommy? She’s also invaluable.”

And so the pair of sweet little buns and the handsome uncle entered an agreement but who would have thought that the woman in question was an ice-cold queen from hell who had a weird affinity with sweets?

“Coming live to you, from Cerou Street, this is MBP News, and we have an unfolding situation to report. Late last night, at approximately 3:00 AM, an explosive-like sound reverberated through this area, disrupting the sleep of residents and instilling fear in their hearts,” the news anchor, a striking figure, delivered the report with poise, standing before the camera amidst a bustling scene.

In the background, the blaring horns of ambulances and police vehicles disturbed the serenity of the beautiful morning light. Two individuals wearing protective suits, presumably forensic experts, held a stretcher carrying a charred body.

The news anchor, who had been reporting earlier, placed a hand on her ear, fitted with an earpiece, and looked visibly surprised. Her voice filled with urgency as she continued, “We have just received an update from our headquarters regarding the sole fatality in this unexpected incident. The victim of this tragic event is none other than Norman, the famous gigolo of Night palace.”

“My colleague, who was set to cover an event today at Nightplace, obtained this information firsthand from Countess Maria, who held a special place for Norman in her heart. Our focus this morning is on this breaking news,” the female news reporter continued amidst the chaotic scene, while Norman's charred body lay alone in the ambulance.

Meanwhile, in a different world, a young boy lay fast asleep with his head on the table. The sun, seemingly displeased with the boy's carefree slumber, cast its rays directly onto his face. Annoyed by the intrusion, the boy shifted his head in another direction, unwilling to be roused from his deep sleep.

*ZZZr Zzrz Zzrzzr* However, an additional source disturbed his sleep, filling the room with a buzzing sound. The boy furrowed his brows in annoyance, his eyes still closed. He searched his surroundings and discovered a glass-like slab. With closed eyes, he slid his finger across it and placed it near his ear.

“Hello...” he mumbled in his drowsy voice, which carried a hint of depth.

“Hey, Pissed-up Prat, where are you?” a voice laced with disdain emanated from the slab.

The boy, referred to as the “Pissed-up Prat” by the irritating female voice, recognized it as a voice he heard frequently but couldn't recall its owner. With his eyes still closed, he inquired, “Who is this?”

“What do you mean, 'who is this'? Wake up, come home, or eat shit for breakfast if you prefer!” the voice behind the transparent slab retorted before falling silent.

The boy, still not fully awakened, gazed at the half-opened glass slab with a mixture of confusion and surprise. As his eyes darted around the room, he became increasingly shocked.

As he recollected the fragmented memories from the night before he lost consciousness, his gaze fell upon the entrance of the shop. Once old and damp, it now bore a different appearance. While not transformed into a luxurious space, it had undergone improvements compared to its previously dilapidated state.

The shop took on a rectangular shape, with one longer side adorned with wooden shelves intricately patterned. Rows of empty glass jars lined these shelves. On the opposite side, there was another wooden shelf, also displaying empty jars. Towards the beginning of the counter, where the boy had been sleeping, there stood a peculiar machine.

Confusion etched across his face, he murmured to himself, “Whose shop is this?”

In response to his question, a mechanical voice resonated in his mind.

[The Omnistore belongs to you, host.]

……………………………………………………………

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