The cold iron was pressed against my neck, and the chill penetrated from my skin and penetrated to my bones.
My eyes widened and my mind went blank.
Standing in front of me was a man wearing a black brocade robe. His face was as cold as if he had been fished out of an ice cellar. He was holding a sword in his hand, and the blade was pressed against my throat. Surrounded by antique rooms, with carved mahogany beds, bronze incense burners, and drooping curtains - this is definitely not my fucking rental house.
"Say, who sent you?"
The man's voice was low, with suppressed murderous intent. His fingers were long and white, but his grip on the sword was very steady. I could even feel the blade vibrating slightly with his breathing.
I opened my mouth and found that my throat was terribly dry.
Who sent me? I don't even know how I got here. Five minutes ago, I was working overtime at the company, staring blankly at the broken report on the computer screen, and then everything went black - and when I opened my eyes again, it was this sword.
"I..." My voice trembled, "I don't know what you are talking about."
The man's eyes became colder.
"Pretending to be stupid?" He exerted a slight force, the blade of the sword pressed into the skin, and the sting came. I felt warm liquid flowing down my neck, "My princess, you wanted to poison me last night, and today you say you don't know?"
