With all that had happened, it was all for naught, and at least Nathalie had never spent a dime from the charades, courtesy of the oh so great and benevolence of His Highness, Athan.
From the windows sheened a mixture of tangerine and golden hues that beamed on the suitcases and bags she had, what her eyes greeted akin to the end of the treasure map with prized treasures waiting to be taken.
Slow, light clacks echoed as Nathalie sashayed towards the luggage. So soon as she got nearer, she couldn't help but squint for a little scrutiny from the last words Athan uttered before he left.
'Useless garbage, eh?' she mused in silence, tapping her cheek. 'No one could open this? Even him? Even that Grand Duke? Something is wrong here.'
The genre had nothing to do with transmigration after all—anyone that came from an unknown era then bringing something to light as an epiphany in a snap.
