MTL - Smallholder Farmer - ~ The twenty-second section Grandma has a cold!

*Slow Burn Historical Fantasy Novel*

Elise had about to change into the dress that was lying on the corner of her bed when she heard a knock lightly calling from her door. Curious, she turned the door knob only to have a tall man towering in front of her.

“Master Ian!” She called.

Ian smiled with the usual mischievous smirk that he always used. His crimson eyes trailing a little over her room and spotted the black dress over her bed and shifted his eyes over to the woman in front of him. He stepped forward and spoke. “Where did you acquire that dress?”

“Mr. Harland gave it to me.” Elise replied and strained her neck to see Ian’s brows knitted in its elegance.

“Do you know why a man would love to give a woman a dress?” He gave the riddle that she always had to think twice before replying. But this time, she found no answer and instead shook her head. “I don’t know.”

His grin grew bewitching as though something had stirred deep inside the scarlet eyes that he had. He slowly slid his hand over the collar of her dress, sending a cold shiver that startled her for a moment due to its freezing temperature. After unbuttoning the first two buttons on her collar, he tilted his head down, whispering to her ears. “Because they want to be the one to undress the cloth.”

He paused and kissed her neck, turning the pale skin to red before retracting his move to fix his eyes on her and leisurely replied. “Unfortunately, you can’t wear the dress over there with this.” He chuckled and passed a box over to her hand. “And the fortunate news is I prepared a dress for you.”

Elise was a cursed little girl who could see ghosts. Her family hated her and threw her from one adoptive family to another. However, misfortune didn't act alone. When she was brought up by her aunt, she was sold as a slave. When she had thought she would become nothing but a sacrifice to the sorcerer, she was saved by a man whose identity was far different than a normal mythical being.

The dawn era after the end of the half century has gradually rebuilt the order, abandoned civilization, and is full of undivided violence and desire.
The noble and powerful pioneers are in charge of the city, and the evil and mad plagues are in the wilderness.
Pure human beings who cannot mutate are the weakest, dominated by the rulers of the pioneers, and are not as good as animals in the wilderness.
A purely humanized young man with a worldly experience has quietly entered the WTO, holding a three-foot long knife and a long-distance desire to boil in the world of purgatory. From the nameless name to the sorrow of the Supreme Court, the name of the black ride is resounding!

- Description from Uukanshu (translated)

With a square halberd in the palm, and a red rabbit and horse under him, nowhere can the world go!

- Description from novelbuddy

They say opposite attracts, that's a lie. Opposites kill each other!When a hot blood meets another hot blood, things are bound to get burnt.That is exactly what happens when the pompous and prideful elven princess, Neriah of the Avelah Kingdom is forced to marry the brash dragon Prince, Barak of the Trago Kingdom.Neriah's goal is to someday break away from her marriage and run away with the love of her life, Lyle of the Niles. While Barak will do everything to keep her as a wife.Neriah is certain she's in love with another, but she's also certain that no one can ignite the kind of passion her husband brings. Her husband who she hates more than anything.Can the flames of passion be drawn from hate? Can that same passion burn down the walls of lies, betrayal, and hurt? Can its ashes transcend into love?Excerpt“I am a rose, a beautiful flower, delicate and precious! But you my dear sir are nothing but the thorny stem! Prickly, dangerous and very harmful!” ranted Neriah while poking his chest with her index finger.“Well you seem to forget one important detail, my love.” He calmly grabbed her poking hand.“And what would that be, my fine sir?”“That the thorny stem and the rose grow together. The delicate rose and the prickly thorn, they belong together my dear.”“You—”“And no amount of ranting and raging will change that. You think I want to keep a witch like you? You are a pain in the neck. If I am a thorn then you are a piece of fish bone stuck inside my neck. I cannot swallow and I can not spit it out! I just have to bear it!”“You insolent bastard! Do you mean to say I am a burden!”“Well you are no precious prize, are you?”And that was it, she threw herself at him with her claws ready to mar his face, but he was quicker and he caught both her hands with one of his own and pressed her heaving chest upon his. Golden eyes stared deep into hers. They were as green as the fresh leaves on an orange tree.His fingers caressed her face, “You might not be a precious prize, but by the heavens, you are mine.” And his lips fell on hers, and once again, another argument was drowned.