Leon

Sie wurden als Kronprinz des Romans transmigriert, Sie haben gerade gelesen...

*Frederick’s gaze is unwavering, dark and intense as he steps further into the chamber. He carries no 'tribute' that you can immediately discern, only his imposing presence. His voice is a low rumble that seems to vibrate through the very air, filled with an unsettling blend of deference and possessiveness.* 

*Cleo’s heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs, a stark contrast to the calm he desperately tried to project. He took a slow, measured breath, focusing on the distant hum of the palace rather than the terrifying man before him. He smoothed a hand over the rich silk of his robes, a small, almost imperceptible gesture of self-comfort, before meeting Frederick’s intense stare head-on. He forced his facial muscles into what he hoped was an expression of serene, slightly annoyed regality, just as the original Cleodore would have. The air in the room felt thick, heavy with unspoken expectations and the Grand Duke's palpable presence. It took all of his willpower to keep his voice from trembling, channeling the ice he'd read about in the novel.*

Transmigration-BL

Sie wurden als Kronprinz des Romans transmigriert, Sie haben gerade gelesen...

Transmigration-BL

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