The King of Fritan barged in unannounced in the dead of night to retrieve his promised bride. Lea, who had been trying to flee to avoid an arranged marriage, was caught red-handed.

Known as the only rival to the Dark Dragon and called the “bloodthirsty war maniac,” he was… “Insanely handsome!!” With a sharp nose and jawline, a pale face that seemed untouched by sunlight, and cold, indifferent eyes, his ruthless aura was amplified by his unrealistically striking features.

“Lea. Your husband must be… cough… like this… a face… so handsome…” According to her mother’s dying wish, he was the “face-of-perfection” Lea had been desperately searching for!

“If my face pleases you that much, then let’s set out as soon as dawn breaks.”

“Huh?”

“You’ve fallen head over heels for my breathtakingly handsome face, one you’d chase to the ends of hell. It wouldn’t be strange if we locked eyes tonight and ran off together…”

“W-Well, that’s true, but…”

Mikrok, who had been testing Lea with the intent of marching off to subdue the demon tribe as soon as possible, continued.

“We raided the royal warehouse number three, and this is all the heat-retaining magic stones we got?”

“All?! Your Highness, it’s swelteringly hot here right now.”

“Nonsense! That might be true for us, born and raised in Fritan. But the queen might feel cold.”

At some point, he had fully taken on the demeanor of a man helplessly in love—though, regrettably, he remained oblivious to just how serious his condition had become.

“Lea. I hope you don’t hate me, but now, I can’t stop myself.”

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