The crimson princess - Chapter 142: More than two pawn to find

Whoever insult the Jerivians is insulting my fiancee and insulting my fiancee is insulting me.

An alliance marriage was arranged between two rival Kingdoms – Qalagon and Jerivia. The agreement was that the Crown Prince of Qalagon will marry the Princess of Jerivia.

But due to an assassination attempt, the Princess of Jerivia was in a coma just weeks before the wedding. If the alliance marriage fails, then what awaits the two Kingdoms was an unprepared war.

The female Army Commander of Jerivia Kingdom was tasked to take on the identity of the Princess and fulfil the alliance marriage.

As such, the infamous Commander of Jerivia, Iria Alewine disguised herself as the Princess and meet the aloof yet powerful Crown Prince of Qalagon, Arin Helev…..

No less than three months and no more than six months. We need just that, Commander Iria. Stay at Qalagon as the Crown Prince's wife during that and when you come back, you will lead the soldiers to fight the Qalagons.

This was the original plan but what will happen if an unlikely romance sparked between the two? Will Commander Iria be able to follow the original plan?

Rivalry of the two Kingdoms

Palace Politics

Palace Romance

Friendship and Betrayal

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”

The old man pointed to the flower-like woman and said, “Call her mother from now on.” He then pointed to a flower-bud-like girl and said, “This is your sister.”

My younger sister was not cute.

She was arrogant, taciturn and weird, but she knew how to please our parents.

She was two-faced and deceitful, but it seemed like she only treated me that way.

I cared for her, tried to please her as much as I can, but she still disliked me.

Until one day, I found out her secret, our relationship began to get a little bit weird…

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