I ended up in a novel about a serial killer who only targets women with brown hair and green eyes. And, of course, I became one of those women—a noble lady with brown hair and green eyes.
To avoid catching his attention, I locked myself in a workshop and lived like a potion-making machine. Just six more months. If I could survive six months, the original protagonist and male lead would take care of that killer. At least, that’s how it was supposed to go…
“I am Eon de Granoua, the Lord of the Magic Tower.”
He wore earrings that hung down like silver threads. His eyes, gentle like the edge of darkness, could turn cold and cruel in an instant. A man as refined and flawless as a sculpture slowly curled his lips into a smile.
“I’ve come to take you with me.”
His purple eyes, deep as the night, flashed red for a moment. It was as if my terrified expression was nothing more than an entertaining play to him.
