I was forced to marry the rumored cruel King of the North on my sister's behalf.
On the night of flowers and candles, he sneered and lifted my hijab: "Since your family sent you to die, I will grant you my wish."
I hid the poisonous needle, pretended to be docile, tested the poison for him every day, and blocked his arrows.
He gradually lowered his guard and exposed his fragile back to me.
Until that day, he stabbed the dagger into my chest with his own hands: "Your meticulous work will never deserve the sincerity."
I smiled and swallowed the blood foam: "That's great, it turns out you will cry in pain."
