Artis squinted at the so-called hero, who was staring at him like he'd just crawled out of the underworld, and a single thought screamed through his mind like a drunk uncle at a wedding:
'How the fuck does he know about that damn event?'
That particular episode was supposed to be locked tighter than a chastity belt in a nunnery. The palace workers who knew about it had been silenced so thoroughly you'd think they'd been buried alongside the incident itself. And yet, here was this cocky asshole, spouting plot points like he was the narrator of Artis's private blooper reel.
But then another thought wormed its way into Artis's mind'
'How does this guy knows about the original novel's plot?
The two men locked eyes across the room, both radiating wildly different energies.
