Thread 7 – A Garden of Thorns. [0.5. Red Thread of Fate] – 𝐆𝐨𝐝'𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

Content and Trigger Warnings for the Story

The following text contains mature themes and may be distressing to some readers. Please be aware of the following content triggers before proceeding:

Foul language: The narrative contains strong and explicit language throughout, including crude and sexual expressions.
Sexual content: There are numerous instances of suggestive behavior, flirting, and explicit romantic/sexual encounters, including unwanted advances and objectifying language.
Emotional manipulation: Characters may engage in emotionally manipulative behavior, both subtle and overt.
Toxic masculinity: The story explores themes of arrogance, pride, and control, particularly around interactions with women.
Substance use: There are references to heavy drinking and partying, which could be distressing or triggering.
Body image issues: There is some reference to physical appearance and body idealization, particularly related to attractiveness and self-worth.
Sexual content – Explicit sexual themes and actions, including suggestive behavior and physical intimacy, are present throughout the narrative.
Emotional manipulation and objectification – The characters engage in power dynamics that involve manipulation and emotional detachment.
Tension and psychological distress – Characters experience inner turmoil, personal conflict, and unresolved emotional issues, with moments of anxiety and discomfort.
Themes of escapism and self-destructive behavior – Characters indulge in distraction and avoidance of deeper personal struggles, including unresolved emotions.
Mentions of complex relationships – The story involves unspoken emotional tension and unresolved issues with significant others, impacting characters’ behavior.
Age gap – The character is younger (seven years old in human years), much younger than the other teenage characters, which introduces a layer of vulnerability and complexity to the interactions.
Confusion and disorientation – Characters experience intense mental and physical disorientation, both due to hangovers and the impact of their actions, leading to feelings of confusion and distress.

Reader discretion is advised. If you feel that any of these triggers may cause distress, please take caution before reading.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

Status: Draft #1

Last Edited: November 27, 2024

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

Reine stepped into the extravagant nightclub, the heavy bass of the music vibrating through his chest. It was everything he needed: loud, chaotic, and alive. Just the kind of place that washed away all his frustrations. The kind of place where nothing mattered but the here and now. Tonight, he wasn’t going to think about anything—especially not her.

“Reine!”

Noah’s voice cut through the noise as the man waved him over from a circle of people already gathered by the bar. Reine smirked, slipping through the crowd like he owned the place, every head turning to watch him as if it were scripted. It was like a damn parade whenever he walked in—heads turning, whispers starting, the usual welcoming buzz of excitement that followed his every step.

He grinned, feeling the weight of their admiration wash over him. This was his world. The world where he was the golden boy—rich, handsome, smart, confident, the whole damn package. A part of him relished it. A part of him needed it. After all, this was where he was in control. No weird candy from creepy Deon, no stupid forehead kisses. Just him, the life of the party, the man everyone wanted to be around.

He approached Noah, who had an almost unreadable expression on his face, looking him up and down like he was trying to dissect Reine’s mood. Reine flashed him a grin and gave him a half-hearted shrug.

“Sorry I’m late. Had some ‘business obligations’ to attend to,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm as he sidestepped a woman who was already giving him that look. You know, the one that said she was ready to climb him like a damn tree. She wasn’t the only one.

Noah raised an eyebrow but didn’t bite. “Business, huh? If you say so. You’re usually the first one here, you know. What’s got you dragging your feet?”

Reine’s gaze flicked over the women surrounding him, all of them eyeing him like he was the last drink at the bar. He leaned back against the polished counter, perfectly at ease, letting the women edge closer without even trying.

“Nothing, just had a long day,” Reine answered, his tone dismissive. “Don’t you worry about me. Let’s just have fun tonight, alright?”

Noah chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Yeah, sure. ‘Cause you look like you’re having so much fun already.” He eyed the crowd briefly before locking his gaze back onto Reine, giving him a little nod as if to say don’t screw this up.

Reine rolled his eyes. Noah was always the calculating one. Always observing, always reading between the lines. He didn’t get the carefree Reine at all. But tonight, Reine didn’t want to be read. He didn’t want to be observed. He just wanted to party, drink, and forget.

“Relax, I’m good,” Reine said, straightening up, exuding his usual arrogance. He winked at the women still practically drooling on him. “Now, who’s ready to have a good time?”

The crowd parted for him as he sauntered through, his usual charisma taking over. The tension of the evening slipped away as he got into his groove. There was something addictive about this kind of attention—something that made everything else fade into the background. The music thudded in his chest, the flashing lights made his skin tingle, and all the people around him just added to the exhilaration.

One woman was already pressing up against him, smiling like a cat who’d just caught a canary. She was wearing a sparkly dress that clung to her body just right. A real looker, if he did say so himself.

“Hey there, handsome,” she cooed, batting her lashes. “Been waiting for you to show up.”

Reine grinned and leaned in just a little too close for comfort, letting his lips brush against her ear. “I’m here now,” he whispered, his voice a smooth, playful drawl. “What do you want to do about it?”

She giggled and ran her fingers down his arm, sending a little shiver of excitement through him. This was it. This was what he was good at. Making women feel like the world revolved around them, while he stayed firmly in the center, never losing his edge.

But even as the night raged on, even as the drinks flowed and the women continued to surround him like moths to a flame, there was something gnawing at him. Just a little. He’d been flirty, sure, but something was… off.

He had fun, he was the center of attention, but somewhere in the back of his mind, a certain name kept flashing: Deon.

God damn it.

“Reine!” One of the women called, snapping him out of his thoughts. He pasted his trademark smirk on his face, turning to her with a wink.

“Yeah?”

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” she said, narrowing her eyes playfully. “You’ve been distracted all night.”

Reine took a deep breath, letting the comment roll off him like water on a duck’s back. “Nah, just enjoying the party.” He shot her a grin that was so smooth, it could’ve been a weapon.

He needed to stop thinking about her. Stop thinking about Deon. Deon. He didn’t care about her. He didn’t care about the way her little candy felt like some bizarre, intimate gesture. He didn’t care that she probably didn’t even notice what happened between them. He didn’t care that she might’ve been warming up to him. He didn’t care about any of that.

Because tonight was about him.

Reine Albertine. The golden boy.

The rest of the night stretched out before him, and for the first time that evening, he managed to shake off the weight of her thoughts. The rest of the party was everything he wanted it to be—chaotic, carefree, and full of attention.

And just like that, he was back to being Reine Albertine—the untouchable, the one everyone wanted to be around. The man with no regrets. The man who didn’t get flustered. The man who definitely didn’t care about some weird, silent freak who didn’t even know how to speak like a normal person.

Right?

═════════════════

Reine sank back into the plush couch, the heavy rhythm of the bass vibrating through the cushions as he looked around the room, surveying the scene with his usual cocky grin. The night was in full swing—people laughing, dancing, drinking, and generally making a ruckus. It was the kind of chaos he thrived in, where he could play his part as the untouchable golden boy. His eyes flitted around the room, following the movement of bodies, the way people gravitated towards him as though they were moths to a flame.

He was always at the center of it, wasn’t he?

A woman leaned in close, her fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. She was cute enough, her lips red and inviting, but there was a glint of something in her eyes—something predatory. He smirked, letting her close the gap, her perfume intoxicating. This was the game. He was the prize, and they all knew it. He had no need to try too hard. His presence alone was enough to command attention.

“You’re looking extra handsome tonight,” she purred, her voice dripping with sugary sweetness.

Reine raised an eyebrow, allowing himself to bask in the attention for a second. He had become so good at it that the flirtations felt almost mechanical now. It wasn’t about connecting, about feeling anything real. It was a performance. A game. His game.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he replied smoothly, his voice low and steady, sending a wave of satisfaction through him when she smiled like that. The more they fawned over him, the easier it became to forget everything else.

But even as the woman’s hand moved to rest on his thigh, even as he leaned in for that kiss she was clearly angling for, something about tonight felt… different.

Was it the way she kissed him? No. He was used to that, to the flirty, heavy make-out sessions that usually followed these kinds of interactions. He was a pro at this. But there was something else. Something in the back of his mind that kept gnawing at him like a constant itch he couldn’t scratch.

Every so often, his mind would drift back to her—the strange girl. The freak. The one who still didn’t even know how to talk to him properly. The one who had the audacity to look at him like he was nothing more than a casual annoyance.

But he hated her, right?

His lips pressed against the woman’s for a moment longer, savoring the moment of power he had over her before pulling back, his arm draping around her shoulder, his attention already halfway somewhere else. He spotted another woman across the room—blonde, tall, legs for days—already locking eyes with him, a predatory look that was just his type.

But then—

There it was again. That thought. That stupid thought.

Deon.

His body tensed for a fraction of a second, the briefest flicker of discomfort before he squashed it down hard. Reine cursed inwardly and flashed his most dazzling smile at the blonde woman, ready to slip into his usual routine. No distractions, he thought. No thinking about her.

“Let’s take this somewhere private,” he murmured to the blonde, brushing her hair behind her ear with a practiced flair. Her eyes sparkled as she nodded, but before they could make a move, Noah suddenly appeared beside him, arms crossed, a knowing smile on his face.

“You’ve been busy, haven’t you?” Noah said, his voice calm but with that subtle undertone of something deeper, like he could see right through him.

Reine flicked his eyes over to him, narrowing them in mock suspicion. “What are you talking about?”

Noah’s smile was a bit too knowing. He cocked his head slightly, his gaze flicking to the blonde woman, then back to Reine. “Oh, nothing. Just… it’s not like you to be this distracted. You’ve been throwing yourself into this a little too much tonight, don’t you think? I know you were always the first to jump into the party scene.”

Reine felt his chest tighten. God, Noah knew. He knew. He always did.

But instead of engaging in any kind of serious conversation, Reine waved it off with a dismissive laugh, letting the tension slide off him. “What can I say? The ladies can’t get enough of me,” he said, giving the blonde a wink. She flushed, clearly loving every second of it. “And why wouldn’t they?” he added, turning back to Noah, his grin wide and unconcerned. “There’s nothing wrong with enjoying the attention.”

Noah gave him a sideways glance, not buying it for a second. “Sure, man. Keep telling yourself that.”

Reine gritted his teeth, but he didn’t let the discomfort show. He was in control of this. He was. Noah wouldn’t understand, and he didn’t have to. No one else had to understand either.

“Right,” he muttered, already losing interest in the conversation. “I’ll catch you later.” With that, he turned back to the blonde woman, ignoring Noah’s lingering stare.

But as they moved to a more private area of the club, a VIP booth with the perfect view of the dance floor, Reine’s mind refused to quiet. He couldn’t stop thinking about how strange it felt tonight. How everything—every touch, every word—felt like it was happening too easily.

It was like he was trying to drown out something else. Something that had been plaguing him for days.

But no matter how much he tried to focus on the people around him, on the laughter, the flirtations, the wild, unfiltered chaos of the night, Deon’s face kept flashing through his mind.

Fuck.

Reine let out a breath, clinking his drink against the woman’s, offering her another smile. The night wasn’t over, and he wasn’t going to waste any more time thinking about the one person who clearly didn’t give a shit about him.

═════════════════

Reine was in full throttle mode. The music pulsed like the beating of his own heart, drowning out the low, insistent voice in the back of his mind. His eyes were sharp, scanning the crowd, watching the curves of women’s bodies move to the rhythm. The energy of the night seeped into him, turning his every movement fluid, effortless, and loaded with that signature confidence. The sharp glint of lust never dulled in his eyes as he reveled in the attention.

“Reine! Over here!”

A familiar voice pulled him back from his trance, and he turned to see a blonde with a mischievous grin, beckoning him over with a languid wave. He didn’t need to be asked twice.

She was stunning—too stunning to be alone at a party like this, and he wasn’t about to leave her hanging. He swaggered over, a predatory grin spreading across his face, his body language oozing the kind of casual confidence that came from being the center of attention wherever he went. The blonde didn’t stand a chance. As he slid into the seat beside her, his fingers brushed her thigh in a casual but suggestive motion.

“Reine,” she purred, her lips curling into a smile that screamed desire. “You’ve been avoiding me tonight.”

“Not avoiding,” he replied smoothly, leaning in closer, his breath hot against her ear. “Just… making sure the night’s interesting enough to keep me busy.”

He slid his fingers up her arm, feeling the soft skin beneath his touch. She responded instantly, pressing her body against his, and that was all it took. Reine smirked, eyes dark with intent, as the party around them blurred. The world outside the little bubble he created faded to white noise, the beat of the music growing louder in his ears as the anticipation swirled in the air.

One kiss. One simple kiss, and everything else fell away.

But as he kissed her, his mind wasn’t fully there—not completely. His thoughts flickered, like shadows in the corner of his mind, tugging at the edges of his focus.

Deon.

Shit.

He gritted his teeth, pressing harder into the kiss, trying to suffocate the thought. This wasn’t about her. This was about losing himself. The party. The chaos. The people. The women. It was all just noise. It was all just distraction. The woman in his arms wasn’t Deon, and that was exactly why he could give in to her.

Her body was soft and pliant against his, and he wasted no time pulling her even closer, his hands roaming as the world around them seemed to spin. Another woman joined them, a brunette, quick with a kiss, a squeeze of his thigh, then a slow drag of her hand up his chest. Reine didn’t hesitate. It was a game to him—a power play—watching them, feeling them, making them beg for his attention.

“Thought you might like a change of pace, Reine,” the brunette whispered, her fingers working their way down to his belt buckle, pulling him back into the frenzy that had become the night. She wasn’t wrong—this was a change of pace, though he wasn’t sure what kind of pace anymore. The adrenaline was too strong, the desire too overwhelming.

Another woman. And another. Reine moved between them with practiced ease, never losing his cool, his suave persona intact, but inside, the ball of tension tightened. He could feel his breath getting shallow, his chest tightening. He was going too far again. But he didn’t care.

Not tonight.

The music throbbed like a heartbeat in his chest, and as the clock ticked on, the haze of lust continued to cloud his thoughts. Bodies pressed against him, hands tugging at his shirt, lips on his neck, his chest, his mouth. Nothing mattered except the rhythm of the night, the chaos that was spinning faster and faster, until everything blurred together in a whirl of skin, sweat, and moans.

And yet, somewhere in the chaos, his thoughts kept straying. Back to her. To Deon.

The way she looked at him—like he was a puzzle she couldn’t solve, or worse, someone she couldn’t even be bothered to understand. It bothered him more than he’d ever admit.

He shoved that thought away, pulling the next woman close, biting his lip as she ran her hands over his chest. Her touch was almost like it was meant to punish him, to break through the walls he’d built.

“You’re enjoying this, huh?” the blonde teased, pushing him back against the couch, her lips finding the curve of his neck.

“Just keeping things interesting,” Reine smirked, his voice low and laced with sarcasm. But inside, the cracks were starting to show. He felt exposed, raw, in ways he couldn’t even process.

No, not tonight. Not now.

He had to stay in control. He was in control. This was his night.

But with every laugh, every touch, every kiss, a part of him—a tiny, treacherous part—kept slipping away, unraveling in the wake of a strange, almost magnetic pull.

“Maybe,” he muttered under his breath, his hand tangling in the blonde’s hair, pulling her in for another kiss. “Maybe I’m just looking for something I can’t find here.”

But he wouldn’t admit it. He wouldn’t admit that he was looking for anything but the next distraction. Anything but the last, most fucking irritating person to ever cross his path.

The music blared, drowning out everything else. The night was still young, and so was he.

═════════════════

The night was in full swing, the party loud, fast, and chaotic as ever. Reine was right where he belonged—at the center of it all, surrounded by bodies, laughter, and the blinding pulse of the music. His mind, however, was a blur of lust and alcohol, each drink more of a welcome escape than the last. He was on fire tonight—charismatic, playful, completely untouchable. Everyone wanted a piece of him, and he was all too happy to give it.

A woman slid into his lap, her hands already trailing over his chest, but before he could say a word, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Reine rolled his eyes, turning around, already bracing himself for some drunk acquaintance or another eager woman trying to latch onto him. But instead, it was Noah—calm, composed, with his usual deadpan expression. Reine had barely registered Noah’s silence as he made small talk with the others, but now that he was looking closely, he noticed how different Noah seemed tonight.

His best friend’s posture was stiff, eyes sharp with something Reine hadn’t quite pinned down yet, and there was no hint of his usual calm warmth. If anything, Noah’s eyes seemed calculating—almost predatory. The psychologist-to-be was always sharp, but tonight? Reine’s gut twisted.

“What’s up?” Reine asked, trying to keep his voice light, but he could feel the shift in the air, the underlying tension creeping in.

Noah leaned in slightly, the music and chatter fading just enough that only Reine could hear. His voice was low, clipped, and far colder than usual. Reine blinked, suddenly more aware of the heat of the room, the smell of alcohol, and the overwhelming rush of bodies pressing against him.

“You know what this is about,” Noah murmured, his expression betraying no warmth, no friendliness. Just pure observation.

Reine didn’t react immediately, brushing it off with a wave of his hand, barely registering the sudden shift in Noah’s demeanor. He leaned back into the woman’s arms, running his hands over her curves in practiced indifference. He didn’t need Noah’s lectures tonight.

But Noah’s voice came again, cutting through the haze, sharp and unrelenting. “Deon.”

The word felt like a punch to the chest, and for a brief, suspended moment, the noise of the party around him seemed to dim. Reine’s eyes snapped to Noah’s face, and he saw it—Noah knew.

A deep, uneasy silence passed between them, broken only by the steady thrum of the bass, the clinking of glasses, and the faint echo of laughter from a nearby group. Reine’s grip tightened around the woman’s waist, but his gaze never wavered from Noah. His pulse quickened, and he suddenly felt suffocated by the weight of the words.

“You’re not fooling anyone, Reine,” Noah said, his voice colder than it ever had been. “I see right through it.”

Reine’s mind spun as he processed the words, his heart racing in a mix of anger and… something else. Something unsettling.

Noah saw him. He saw right through the layers of charm, the deflecting smirk, the constant distractions. He knew.

Deon. The name was like a curse on his lips now. And damn it, Noah was right. It was her. It was always her.

Reine’s mind screamed at him to push it away, but Noah didn’t let up. He kept staring at him, piercing through the façade with a calculated, almost clinical gaze. He wasn’t even a little drunk tonight—not in the way Reine was.

The silence stretched on, each passing second a strange kind of pressure in the air between them. Then, with a casual flick of his wrist, Noah stood up, brushing his jacket with the kind of nonchalance that only he could pull off.

“Think about it,” Noah said softly, his words hanging in the air like a warning. He didn’t stick around for a response, moving toward the other side of the room where a few of their other friends lingered. But before he disappeared into the crowd, he added, “I’m leaving. Got work to do.”

Some of the other partygoers groaned at Noah’s exit, but no one seemed to care enough to stop him. They’d been used to his aloof, almost otherworldly presence. The man was too cool for this world—too above it.

Reine barely registered the complaints, his mind still reeling from what Noah had said. Deon.

Fuck.

He looked around the room, trying to get a grip on himself, but all he could see were flashing images of her—Deon, with her quiet, intense gaze and her goddamn aloof attitude that had the nerve to make his chest tighten in a way no woman ever had before. She was a problem. A big fucking problem.

The rest of the night was a blur of bodies and noise, but Reine was no longer completely in it. Noah’s words lingered, an uncomfortable echo in his mind. He found himself distracted, his usual cocky smile faltering for the briefest of moments.

Still, he refused to acknowledge it—refused to think about it. Not here, not now.

He wasn’t a fool. He had no vendetta. But Deon… she was a different story.

Reine slammed back another drink, swallowing the bitterness down with a grimace, and let the party swallow him whole once again. No more thoughts about her. Not tonight.

And yet, the pull was already there, like a faint whisper on the edge of his consciousness. It was only a matter of time before he’d have to face it.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

Reine groaned, his head pounding like someone was hammering it from the inside. The thick, metallic taste of last night’s chaos still clung to his mouth, and his entire body felt like it had been run over by a truck. He wasn’t a rookie when it came to hangovers—hell, even the toughest drugs didn’t phase him. But today? Today was different. He felt disoriented, disjointed, and ready to commit murder just for a sip of water that wouldn’t make him puke.

His eyes slowly opened, squinting against the harsh morning light that filtered through a cracked curtain. Reine let out another groan, cursing the sun for having the audacity to rise after he’d drowned himself in the purest form of debauchery. God, what did I even do last night?

He shifted his body, immediately regretting it when the room spun. His stomach lurched, threatening to expel whatever remained inside him, but he fought it back. No matter how hard he tried to ignore it, the sick feeling was relentless.

For a second, he thought, Maybe I passed out at the club, maybe some random girl or two or more crawled into bed with me… The usual aftermath of his wild nights. He wasn’t an angel, and he’d long since stopped counting the faces that blurred in and out of his life.

So, with his typical swagger (well, what was left of it), Reine rolled over, expecting to see a half-naked stranger beside him. Maybe a woman he had barely remembered—or not at all—her body tangled with his under the dim lighting of some dingy hotel room.

But he froze.

The feeling of soft sheets against his skin was nothing compared to the ice-cold shock of what he saw in front of him.

Deon.

Deon.

He blinked, blinking again, like the image might somehow fade and fix itself, like this was some weird, shitty dream. But no. No. It wasn’t a dream.

There she was, right next to him, bundled up tight in a blanket like a damn caterpillar. No makeup, no fake smile—just her usual stoic, unreadable expression that didn’t belong here, in this mess, in this… fucked up situation.

The world around him began to shift into focus, his hangover momentarily forgotten as confusion and panic began to replace it. Why the fuck is she here?

He immediately sat up, heart hammering in his chest. His head spun, and he winced, trying to push through the pounding sensation in his temples. His half-naked body seemed so out of place in this scene, like it didn’t belong here—like this wasn’t supposed to be his reality.

Reine’s mind raced as he tried to piece together the night. The wild party. The drinks. The flirting, the touching. But Deon—Deon hadn’t been a part of that. He hadn’t seen her at the club. So how?

His fingers brushed against the cold sheets, hesitating as he looked down at her. The blanket was wrapped so tightly around her that he couldn’t tell if she was even breathing. He wanted to shake her awake, but what the hell was he going to say? What the hell was he supposed to do? What did I do last night?

He was completely sober now, the panic slowly starting to creep in. His mind was whirling. Did I drag her here? Did I—No. No, I wouldn’t have. Did someone else? Did she—?

His eyes shifted back to her, catching his breath as he saw her face. Still the same, blank as ever.

Fuck. He had no clue what happened. No clue what was going on. His usual confident, cocky self had been replaced with a weird mix of anger and confusion. He hated not knowing. He hated not having control of the situation.

And yet, there was a part of him that didn’t want to wake her up. Not now. Not like this. It felt too… wrong.

He stood up, the movement clumsy as his head throbbed, and walked to the window. The sunlight hit him like a truck, but it helped clear his thoughts—at least enough for him to process his own frustration. What the hell am I going to do?

He hadn’t been expecting her. He hadn’t been expecting anything. He was just—he was just going to party, let loose, and forget the fucking world for a while. But Deon was here, in his bed, in his space. And he had no idea how to process that.

But no. No. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t—what the fuck?

He turned back toward the bed, heart pounding again. His eyes narrowed at her, expecting to see some indication that she’d remembered—that she’d known what happened.

But no. Deon was still completely unaware, wrapped up in her cocoon of blankets, her breathing steady but completely oblivious to everything around her.

Reine felt his stomach twist with a mix of frustration and… guilt? He immediately threw that thought out of his head. Guilt? No. This wasn’t guilt. This was just—what the fuck is going on?

Slowly, cautiously, he walked over to the bed and knelt beside her. The old Reine would’ve laughed this off, made some quip about how great the night was, maybe even tried to flirt with her again. But not now. He just wanted to understand.

“Deon?” He said her name softly, unsure of what he was even asking for.

Her eyes fluttered open slowly, and for the first time ever, Reine saw something that wasn’t cold indifference. For a brief, fleeting moment, she seemed… confused, as if she wasn’t sure whether she was still dreaming or if this was real.

She blinked at him, her voice soft and groggy, and Reine couldn’t believe it, but for a moment, he thought she might’ve been just as disoriented as he was.

“…Reine?”

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to say. Everything was wrong, and for the first time in a long time, Reine felt completely and utterly out of his element.

Thread 7 – A Garden of Thorns. [0.5. Red Thread of Fate]

Before you start reading God’s Protagonist, make sure to read the following:

Share this: