I got married for my sister, and I married the living king of hell who killed three fiancées.
On our wedding night, he pinched my chin and warned me: "I have a bad temper and will suppress my wife. Please be more at ease."
I just lay down and said, "What a coincidence, I cherish my life the most in my life. I don't fight, grab, or cause trouble."
I risked my life to save my life, just waiting to be rejected by him or die violently.
But when I was eating melon seeds and he gave me candied fruits, and when I hid in silence and he defended me in public, I realized something was wrong.
Until the assassin attacked, he shielded me from the knife, but his blood-stained robe smiled and caressed my face:
"It seems that this king's fate cannot be hard on you."
I later learned that beneath his reputation as a "wife-killer" was a bloody and monstrous conspiracy.
And I was the only reason he dared to lie down and sleep peacefully in the endless darkness.
He was also the one he personally chose for himself, the only fellow traveler he could travel with.
