Alicia von Crestvale's arm was cocked back, her fist glowing faintly with mana as it stopped frozen mere inches away from Alex Dragonheart's devilishly grinning face.
She couldn't move.
Not a twitch. Not a step forward.
Her eyes widened in shock.
"What... the hell?"
Meanwhile, Alex stood there, hands behind his back like a gentleman giving a lecture, lips stretched into a grin so smug it should've been declared a crime in three empires.
Alicia's whole body trembled—not from fear, but rage. Her instincts screamed at her to move, to punch, to explode—but her body didn't listen.
"You... YOU ASSHOLE! WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?!"
Alex tilted his head, eyes gleaming with amusement.
"Language, darling. What if someone hears you talking like that to a sweet, innocent commoner?"
In a blink, he stepped forward, raising her hands delicately one at a time—and with a gentle click, he latched something cold and metallic around each wrist.
Alicia's mind instantly registered the objects.
