1st January, 2032.
The world was burning.
Markets bleeding red.
Satellites twitching mid-air like epileptic flies.
Presidents shitting bricks, ministers screaming into voids.
All because of one man.
And that bastard?
Was asleep.
Like a fucking immortal baby, peaceful, smug, and shameless.
Wang Xiao lay sprawled across the silken bedding of his underwater suite, buried beneath velvet sheets and something far softer, someone.
A low moan echoed under him.
"Ugh…"
...Soft.
...Warm.
Fragrant.
A scent filled the room, vanilla mixed with crushed wildflowers after rain. Not the kind of air a man inhales, the kind he devours.
The room was aglow in cold fluorescent light, filtered through a crystalline wall that showed the deep blue ocean outside. Schools of silver fish darted past like clueless diplomats ignoring a dictator's bedchamber.
And beneath his absurdly heavy body, a girl twitched, like a dying lotus caught under a mountain.
"Aaahh…" the girl gasped.
