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It was the age of the plague.
She had already experienced the fifth cycle of hell, having been exploited by the imperial family and the powerful elite as the sole cure.
No matter what she did, she couldn’t die.
Not until her thirtieth birthday, when the holy relic would finally drain her of all her strength.
To escape this life, she needed an alliance — she needed him.
But then…

“Take me as your mistress.”
“No.”

As expected, his firm rejection made Irynsis sigh.
While she was busy scheming her next move, Cassion opened his mouth.

“Let’s get married.”

What was she supposed to do with this fool?

***

At first, he thought she was insane.

“Even if I’m not your type, there’s nothing I can do.”
“Is that really the issue right now?”
Just like you can’t always do what you want, you can’t always sleep with the women you want.”

“This is insane.”

But in the end, it was her face that he couldn’t forget.
Irynsis — this woman was an addiction.
Small, pale and fragile, she was always getting on his nerves, yet he found himself thinking about her constantly.

“You really do have to marry me. I’ll make sure you live in luxury.”

Little did he know that, thanks to his self-sacrificing wife, he was about to experience hell of patience.