I Became the Youngest Prince in the Novel - 258 - Attack on the Imperial Palace (5)

The person who was locked away inside the thorn-covered tower was not a princess, but a witch who employed the powers of darkness.

A brave young hero came searching for the tower in order to kill the witch.

– Light would force the darkness to recede, and grant it eternal rest

The witch wished.

That things would end with, ‘and the hero lived happily ever after killing the witch,’ like in the fairy tales.

And so, she had devised everything to happen in accordance to her wishes.

But the boy, who had grown up in but no time at all, would make the unfamiliar face of man’s from time to time.

“You want me to kill you? ……Do you really think I’ll let you go?”

Reality was very different from the fairy tales.

“The people don’t know of the precious treasure locked away in the tower.

I won’t let anyone else have this god given treasure, this crown of god surrounded by thorns that no one else could recognize.”

The hero gave the witch a slow and deep kiss.

“I am the true victor, and no one else.”

This game has two choices: become a reincarnated hero in another world or receive a duty as a god who guides such people. A man chooses the latter and becomes Raymund, the god of hope. He was tasked to send heroes to grant people's prayers in the mortal world.

After his heroes complete various missions, Raymund can choose a new one from the afterlife. That means he can make a harem of badass women!

A gorgeous formidable warrior? A cute loli wizard? A sexy ninja, maybe? Or perhaps a lovely woman with a unique job class? The possibilities are endless.

However, getting his heroines to complete missions is no easy feat. Raymund still had to think hard and make the right decisions.

So, will Raymund and his women be able to answer those prayers?

Tong, a sinner who was suffering endless torment in hell because of his mistake he had done in his previous life, was giving other chance to redeem himself by the devil.

[COMPLETE] Can a royal Romeo and Juliet find their happy ending?

Ayleth, Princess of Zenithra, is secretly trained in hand-to-hand combat, and collects swear words she doesn't know how to use. During the Festival of Peace, in which every royal son on the continent will be at the castle for a month, she is instructed by her parents to find a husband. Yet, Ayleth has never even been kissed—until the very first ball, when she meets the man in the Lion mask.

Etan is a seasoned warrior, and the Prince of Summitras. He attends the Festival hoping to find a powerful wife who will help him conquer the dark sorcery of their bloodsworn enemies, the Kingdom of Zenithra. But at the very first ball, he discovers the masked woman who captures his heart is the Heir to the evil empire.

Ayleth and Etan face an impossible battle. Will their love survive? Or will their parents' dark dealings keep them apart forever?

[Mature content. No sexual violence.]

******

“You…” She stepped back. Then back again, her mouth dropped open. “You… You cannot be…”

“I am,” Etan said, and his hair raked back as he pushed his mask off his handsome face. So handsome her heart raced.

His hair was ebony black, his skin a warm brown that threatened to fade in in the winter months. He stared at her with glittering green eyes, over high cheekbones and a noble nose, his jaw tight and shadowed this late in the day. His chin was high over the pillar of his neck that she’d just touched with its hard lines and steel strength, so different to her own. And his chest... She gasped and covered her eyes. She’d humiliated herself revealing her stupid, childish curiosity.

“No, Ayleth. This changes nothing.”

“How can you say that? It changes everything!” She was horrified to realize she was crying.

“Ayleth, please.” His voice cracked on the plea and she stared at him, shoving her mask up and off, despite how it would pull her hair out of the beautiful twist the maid had managed for her.

His eyes locked on hers and she couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe.

She had met her One. And he was the son of her bloodsworn enemy.

She stared at him as he stepped forward again, offering both hands, palm up. “Touch me,” he whispered. “Hold my hands. This is real, Ayleth. I don’t know how it happened, but this is real. Please don’t deny it.”

She couldn’t resist. She raised a trembling hand to his cheek, letting her palm catch on the scruff of his jaw. He blew out a breath and put his hand over hers, and that jolt that happened whenever they touched shivered through her again.

“Please, Ayleth.”

“I cannot deny it,” she whispered.