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laxmiree · 6 months ago

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[CN] MLQC’s Lucien - Flavor Date - English Translation

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a date that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

It feels like all my other senses are being fully engaged and heightened by him as well.

As Lucien and I taste the same flavors, my eyes are filled with Lucien, my ears hear only his voice, my nose is enveloped by Lucien's lingering fragrance…

In my heart, there's only Lucien.

Translation under the cut!

[T/N: This date has a theme that is a kind of continuation to his car UR MQ, [On Fire MQ]; So please give it a read if you haven’t! I personally love this date because it’s sort of role reversal for them? I think Lucien truly understands her struggle here because he used to go through the same thing (losing his ability to sense the world around him to some degree) before meeting her :” So he sincerely wants to help her regain them]

[Subbed Video]

youtube

[Transcript Ver]

=[Part 1]=

Waiter: We used horseradish cheese sauce and basil pesto in this dish, resulting in sour and spicy flavors. Please enjoy the meal.

The waiter eloquently introduced us to the newly served exquisite dish. Lucien nods and takes a bite.

Lucien: Mm, the sour and spicy flavors make the ingredients themselves taste more refreshing. It's delicious.

Watching Lucien savor the dish so attentively, I also take a bite, my heart full of anticipation.

MC: Uhh…

MC: [unconsciously frowns in disappointment]…ah…

Seeing my slight frown, the waiter immediately becomes a bit nervous.

Waiter: Madam, is there something you're not satisfied with about our dish? Please feel free to share your feedback…

MC: No, no, the flavor is quite good!

I wave my hand, signaling to the waiter that he doesn't need to continue attending to us. After he leaves, I turn to Lucien and let out a long sigh.

Lucien: [chuckles] How did your face turn so sour* while eating?

MC: Ugh, it's all because of my tongue…

Last week, the flu virus spread explosively through the company, and I unfortunately became one of its victims.

By the time I finally managed to break the fever and stop coughing, I discovered I had developed a bit of an "aftereffect."

My sense of taste... has undergone a subtle change.

MC: I can clearly tell that this dish is sour, and that dish is salty, but no matter what I eat, there's no lingering flavor…

MC: Lucien, I finally understand what 'taste like cardboard’ means!

I listlessly poke at the food in front of me with my fork as I speak. Seeing me like this, Lucien can’t resist chuckling.

Lucien: [chuckles] It’s indeed painful for our gourmet Miss MC not to be able to experience the deliciousness of the food.

MC: The pain doesn't stop there.

I can't help but start counting on my fingers, listing them one by one.

MC: You have no idea how expensive and hard to book this private kitchen is!

MC: I booked a month in advance, battling countless scalpers on their app, and finally managed to snag a VIP table for two.

MC: I specifically chose today to celebrate the end of your research project…

MC: Argh, and I was even planning to take you to try out this newly opened specialty cocktail bar after this meal!

Before I can finish my grumbling, Lucien suddenly takes hold of my fingertips.

Under the warm light, his smile is gentle and clear.

Lucien: So, are you regretting the money you spent, the loss of your taste, or the fact that our date isn't going as planned?

MC: You tell me.

I hook my finger around his, pouting justifiably*.

MC: Can the clever Professor Lucien help me think of a way to turn this "tasteless" date into something more "flavorful"?

Lucien tilts his head slightly, pondering seriously for a moment.

Lucien: Then let's change our date plans. After dinner, let's do something that doesn't require a sense of taste.

✂— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

[T/N]

Fun fact, him finally reaching the end of his important research project is something that also recently happened in main story SO yeah imo main story and dateverse are indeed connected-

*: Lucien uses the word "苦瓜脸" (bitter melon face - kǔguā liǎn) to teasingly describe her facial expression😂It is a Chinese idiom used to describe someone who looks unhappy or has a sour expression. It implies that her expression resembles the bitter, wrinkled appearance of a bitter melon!

**: The phrase used here is 理直气壮 (lǐ zhí qì zhuàng) which is a Chinese idiom that describes someone confident and assertive, often due to having a strong justification for their actions or words. It literally translates to "reason is straight, spirit is strong.". MC feels wronged because the date doesn’t go as planned, so she assertively challenges Lucien to ‘turn the tasteless date into something flavorful’ and feels justified to do so~

✂— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

=[Part 2]=

After leaving the private kitchen, I hand full control of the date over to Lucien with complete peace of mind.

We stroll along the riverside path, petting kittens at pet stores, gathering flowers still damp with evening dew, and finally arriving at a used bookstore.

✂— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

MC: Lucien, is this the book you've been looking for?

Lucien: [with a surprised tone] Where?

Lucien takes the old book from my hand and flips through a few pages, his eyes light up noticeably, and a surprised smile appears on the corner of his mouth.

Lucien: [delightful gasps] It really is this one... good thing you have a keen eye; If it were up to me, I'd have definitely missed it.

MC: Heh, I have a keen sense for anything related to you.

I proudly nuzzle against his arm and then lean my head against him.

The bouquet in my arms, the faint scent of ink mingling with the fragrance of Lucien's clothes, all lingered around my nose, drawing a contented sigh from me.

Lucien: [chuckles] What's wrong?

MC: It's nothing. I just suddenly realized that although my sense of taste wasn't indulged today, all my other senses have been thoroughly delighted thanks to your arrangements.

MC: I'm really happy, so I want to cuddle up to you for a bit.

Lucien lowers his head at my words, a hint of smile playing at the corner of his lips.

Lucien: [chuckles, then whispers softly] I'm also very content and happy today, and I don't want to just ‘cuddle’ with you.

I understand the meaning behind his words and deliberately elongate the end of my tone.

MC: [interesting word choice you got there MC] Ah, it's not really appropriate in a bookstore, is it~?

MC: I'm also feeling a bit tired now. Shall we head home?

Lucien: [chuckles] That's just what I was thinking.

I carry the flowers, and Lucien carries the old book as we head home together.

✂— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

As soon as I push open the door, I notice a pile of delivery boxes stacked next to the shoe cabinet. Lucien also notices my gaze and starts to explain.

Lucien: They're all your packages.

Lucien: I happened to run into the delivery person on my way out, so I signed for them.

MC: Ah, I don't recall buying anything recently?

Lucien: Hmm… it seems MC was indeed a bit out of it from the fever a few days ago.

Lucien picks up the scissors to open packages, struggling to suppress the laughter in his voice.

Lucien: That night, weren't you a bit out of it from the fever, refusing to go to bed, and ended up watching a bunch of food live streams?

Lucien: [his tone when he imitates the notification sound asjjxjdjdkl] During that time, I heard a lot of ‘ding ding ding, payment successful’.

MC: —I remember now!

Heat rushes to my face in an instant, and I bury my face in my hands, feeling a little embarrassed

MC: …As expected, it was a combination of cravings, impulsive shopping, and a viral invasion that left me with no rationality at all.

Lucien: I actually think it was a good thing that the food livestream distracted you that night, so you didn’t feel so uncomfortable.

Lucien helps me take the snack bags out of the box, then soothingly takes my hand and leads me to the sofa to sit down.

Lucien: Besides, I'm also curious to know if these snacks are as delicious as the live streamers described them to be.

Remembering the live streamers' over-the-top expressions, I also get curious and take the initiative to tear open a bag of sandwich cookies first.

I chew and swallow with the utmost seriousness, but I can still only taste bland saltiness and sweetness.

Seeing my increasingly dejected expression, Lucien is about to offer words of comfort, but I quickly stuff the other sandwich cookie from the bag into his mouth.

Lucien: [confusedly] Um…?

I prop myself up on a pillow, lean closer to Lucien, and wink at him.

MC: Hehe, I want to watch you eat it.

MC: If you think it's delicious, then that means I think it's delicious too.

Mirroring my gesture, Lucien winks back, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows the cookie.

Lucien: [chuckles] So, you want me to be your ’tongue’ then?

MC: Exactly, you describe it, and I'll imagine it; that's not a bad idea either.

MC: Maybe if I keep imagining and imagining, my sense of taste will return as well.

Lucien can't help but smile, his eyes curving with amusement. He leans down and places a kiss on the corner of my lips.

Lucien: [kiss sound] I’ve noticed that a certain little foodie’s resentment towards not being able to enjoy delicious food has become as deep as a black hole.

MC: Haha, it's not that exaggerated…

Lucien: I completely understand how you feel, MC.

Lucien's sigh-like whisper overlaps with my words, swallowing my dry laughter entirely.

He doesn't say anything more, but I know he understands my current frustration and dejection.

I let out a long sigh, then bury my head in his chest affectionately, murmuring softly.

MC: I really want to get my sense of taste back soon…

Lucien: Then, how about we try making a plan to reawaken your taste buds?

MC: What?

Lucien: Taste buds are essentially signal receivers. When they malfunction, your brain also experiences cognitive errors, leading to a decreased sensitivity to taste.

Lucien: The tongue is most sensitive to sweetness first, then saltiness, followed by sourness, and finally bitterness.

MC: What about spiciness?

Lucien: Spiciness is actually a sensation of touch, not taste.

Lucien: How about we try this: starting tomorrow, you taste, and I describe. We can use synesthesia to try and awaken one flavor at a time?

MC: That might actually work. So, which flavor should we start with?

Lucien smiles, then unwraps a toffee candy, holds it between his teeth, and leans towards me.

Lucien: [chuckles, kisses, then whispers hoarsely] …Sweetness.

✂— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

=[Part 3]=

Perhaps because I'm looking forward to Lucien's ‘taste buds awakening plan’, I wake up really early without needing an alarm.

I yawn as I drag myself into the bathroom and find that Lucien is also washing up.

Lucien: Good morning. Have you decided where we'll carry out our plan later?

MC: There seems to be a highly-rated dessert shop on Floral Road. My colleagues have recommended it before. Let's go check it out.

I squeeze out some toothpaste and start brushing my teeth, continuing to chat with Lucien with my words slightly muffled.

MC: By the way, I happn to fearch for popular science articles 'bout tafe recobery before going to bed, it said… Lucien! Lucien! (By the way, I happened to look up some science on taste recovery before going to sleep, it said… Lucien! Lucien!)

Startled by my voice, Lucien immediately lifts his head from the towel.

Lucien: Hmm? What's wrong?

MC: I think I can taste a bit of toothpaste!

At this moment, I realize with a mix of delayed comprehension and crystal-clear certainty—my sense of taste seems to be gradually returning!

Lucien is momentarily stunned, then he also breaks into a chuckle.

Lucien: That's great, it seems like this afternoon we should be able to… Mmm.

The rest of his words are cut off as I pounce on him, kissing him. He widens his eyes slightly in surprise, but almost instantly, he happily accepts my lead.

I grasp his arm, and with a sense of satisfaction, I lick my lips.

MC: Did you taste it?

Lucien: Mm, it's the taste of white tea and pomelo.

MC: Right, right! Although it's faint, I can finally distinguish some of them now!

MC: I almost don't want to rinse my mouth.

Lucien's smile deepens as he hands the glass of water to me.

Lucien: Well, this classmate still needs to rinse their mouth. Otherwise, how will you be able to taste the deliciousness that's yet to come?

✂— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Lucien: [teasingly] You look as nervous as if you're about to go to a job interview.

MC: Regaining my sense of taste is a big deal, of course I'm going to take it seriously!

I'm sitting up straight in the dessert shop, looking at Lucien with a serious expression on my face.

MC: On the other hand, does Professor Lucien have the confidence to be a good ‘tongue’ for me?

Lucien raises an eyebrow at me noncommittally, then picks up the menu.

Lucien: Hello, I'd like one macaron, one red velvet cake, one Basque cheesecake, one Napoleon pastry…

I watch Lucien expertly order a mountain of desserts, and I can't help but feel a little guilty.

MC: [worriedly] Wait a minute, can we really eat this much?

Lucien: No need to worry, if you can't finish them, just hand them over to me.

Lucien: Besides, you're still in the recovery phase of your sense of taste. Of course, you need to try as many different flavors of sweetness as possible in order to remember them well.

I nod in partial understanding. Soon, plate after plate of desserts are brought to our table.

Vibrantly colored jams, intricately patterned cream, and delicate little candies…

They are arranged across the table and dessert tower, resembling bright and vibrant gems under the afternoon sun.

Lucien picks up a cupcake and holds it near my lips.

Lucien: [chuckles] You first.

I take a bite of the cake, and the moist, soft texture instantly fills my mouth.

Lucien: How does it taste?

MC: Hmm... It seems like it's light cream with a tart fruit jam?

Lucien: [chuckles] You got most of it right.

MC: Then what's the remaining small part?

Lucien doesn't answer right away. He lightly trails his finger across the frosting on the cupcake.

The fluffy frosting rests on his finger like a tiny cloud. He lowers his eyes and sticks out his tongue, slowly and carefully licking it.

A small amount of the thick and sticky jam escapes the lingering sweep of his tongue, slowly slides down the skin of his knuckles.

Lucien's voice is neither hurried nor slow, each word enunciated with a hint of honeyed sweetness.

Lucien: [why his breathy and husky voice sounds so seductive here-] The cream melts quickly, leaving a slightly fatty, sticky coating on the tip of the tongue, but this sensation is soon overtaken by the sweet and tart flavor of the jam.

Lucien: [x2] In the end, they blend together, creating a gentle and delicate flavor.

Even though I haven't taken a second bite of the cake, Lucien's description makes me involuntarily swallow.

That's the most fundamental desire—known as appetite*.

I don't know why, but I'm suddenly thinking about that deep kiss from this morning.

Looking back, I definitely should have kissed him a few more times.

✂— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

[T/N]

Can confirm that MC kiss isn't just a peck on lips because the summary of the date phrase it like this: “顺便也尝了尝许墨嘴里牙膏的味道” (while at it, I was also tasting the toothpaste in his mouth), the text uses "嘴里" (zui li), which literally means "inside the mouth”, and add the fact that she was not just ‘visiting’, but tasting…. the kiss was rather an… intimate exploration🤪

*: the use of 食欲 (appetite; desire for food) is interesting because at first, you would think she was referring to the food (and it IS more commonly used for food), but then instead she thinks back to the kiss they shared that morning.... like, ma'am are you confusing lust with hunger again just like in the qixi AU LOL

✂— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

=[Part 4]=

Lucien: [gently] Basque cake is very thick and sticky, not quite like the filling of an egg tart. You can slowly and gently stir it with the tip of your tongue to melt it…

Lucien: The Napoleon pastry from this particular shop is generously filled with almond slices. As they blend with the flaky pastry, you can slowly distinguish their textures and flavors…

MC: The puff pastry is crumbly and buttery, while the almond slices are smooth with a slight chewiness?

Lucien: [chuckles] Well said. Would you like to try the apple pie?

MC: I'd love to!

I take a bite of the apple pie he cut for me, chew carefully, and my eyes widen in surprise.

MC: I can taste it... this apple pie is a bit tastier than the one we had last time!

Lucien: [chuckles] It seems that classmate MC is starting to develop a standard for distinguishing similar flavors?

As Lucien speaks, he takes a bite of the apple pie and nods.

Lucien: Hmm... it does seem like it. I think the difference might be that they added a bit of liquor to the filling, which gives the apples a more fermented flavor. Can you smell it?

I lean closer, my nose twitching slightly. Sure enough, amidst the rich aroma of apples and cream, I catch a faint whiff of alcohol.

MC: There really is a hint of alcohol! How did I not taste it earlier?

Lucien: [chuckles] That means it's time for you to try the next dessert and awaken your taste buds further. Here, have a macaron.

We taste various desserts, and Lucien continuously describes the different textures and aftertastes to me, guiding me to gradually recover my sense of taste.

This ‘awakening plan’ seems to be doing more than just reawakening my sense of taste. It feels like all my other senses are being fully engaged and heightened by him as well.

As Lucien and I taste the same flavors, my eyes are filled with Lucien, my ears hear only his voice, my nose is enveloped by Lucien's lingering fragrance…

In my heart, there's only Lucien.

✂— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Lucien: [chuckles] What are you writing?

After returning home from the dessert shop, I excitedly open my computer and create a new document.

MC: Now that my sense of taste is back, I definitely need to rearrange the gourmet plans that I put on hold over the past couple of days.

MC: It's the first time I've truly felt how much having a sense of taste can enhance happiness!

MC: How about we go for a hot pot this weekend?

MC: It's also time to stimulate my tongue with some salty and spicy flavors!

MC: I know you said spiciness is a pain sensation, but hey, they are all handled by the tongue anyway…

Lucien leans back on the sofa, listening to my chatter, nodding with a warm smile beaming on his face.

Lucien: [chuckles] Only planning for next weekend? I was actually thinking about what we could eat together tomorrow.

MC: Of course, we should also plan for tomorrow! Let me see if there are any good places to eat nearby…

MC: Oh! There's this too!

I lean over and grab those bags of snacks from yesterday, the ones I couldn't taste when I ate them.

Rich cheese, tangy plums, savory dried meat... I savor each snack, one by one, and a feeling of immense happiness wells up in my heart.

MC: Sniffle sniffle… Lucien, those streamers weren't lying! It really is delicious, you should try some too!

I hold out the snacks to Lucien's lips like I did yesterday, but he doesn't open his mouth. Instead, he just looks at me and smiles.

MC: Why the smile? Do you think I'm being too greedy?

Lucien: [gently] Of course not. I just realized there was an idiom I didn't like before, but now I don't feel the same way about it anymore.

MC: Which idiom?

Lucien: "饮食男女" [yǐn shí nán nǚ - literally mean drink, eat, man, woman, it is derived from what Confucius once said, "饮食男女，人之大欲存焉 (Food and sex are the greatest/basic desires of humans) -T/N]

Lucien: Food and sex are the greatest desires of humans. These are the most basic and instinctual impulses of human beings, and there's nothing vulgar about them.

He reaches out and gently wipes the snack crumbs from the corner of my mouth.

Lucien: On the contrary, they're very endearing.

MC: Of course, being able to experience and engage the world through one's nature is a very endearing thing.

MC: And haven't you noticed that your perception of the world is becoming increasingly nuanced, vibrant, and lively?

Lucien: Are you referring to our 'taste bud awakening plan' today?

MC: Far more than that. It's also the text messages you sent me, the photos you took and gave to me, and all our trivial little chats;

MC: We're experiencing the beauty in all the small, ordinary things together. Even if it’s merely a tiny change like adding a bit of alcohol to the apple pie…

I gently nuzzle my cheek against his fingers, which he hasn't yet withdrawn, smiling with contentment and pride.

MC: It's because I'm endearing that you're becoming endearing too.

MC: We're endearing people who enjoy the basic desires of humankind.

Lucien: ….

Lucien is momentarily stunned, and then his narrow eyes suddenly lit up at my words.

His lips open and close, but in the end, no words come out. He just leans toward me slowly.

The atmosphere becomes somewhat suggestive. I realize what he's about to do and quickly cover my mouth, leaning back.

MC: Wait... Not now!

Lucien: [chuckles then asks gently] Why?

MC: I just ate jerky, dried fruits, and cookies, now my mouth tastes like a mess.... So, not now!

I twist my waist, trying to dodge him. Lucien, resigned yet amused, can only straighten back up.

Lucien: [chuckles helplessly] I'll brew you some plain tea then.

Lucien finishes brewing the tea and hands it to me. I accept it a bit awkwardly and sip slowly, regret starting to creep into my heart.

Why am I even bringing up rinsing my mouth? When I was brushing my teeth this morning, wasn't it natural to just pounce and kiss him directly?

Besides, Lucien wouldn't mind if it's me…

Now it's like this, my mouth doesn't taste bad anymore, but kissing has become this serious and stiff affair, like some kind of formal ceremony.

MC: I really…

Lucien: What?

MC: It's nothing, it's nothing. I meant... I finished my drink.

I pull Lucien's arm, then, feeling a bit uncertain, lower my head to huff a breath.

MC: It should be fresh now, right...?

MC: Lucien, why do I feel like I'm starting to doubt my sense of smell again?

Lucien: [whispers] No need to doubt.

Lucien cups my face in his hands, and his scent, like that of green tea, envelops me completely.

In the moment of our intertwined breaths, Lucien personally confirms the answer.

Lucien: [breathes then whispers huskily] Very sweet.

— — — — — — — —FIN — — — — — — — — — —

[Bonus Moments - Dull Interdental Pain]

(this is just so funny I can't resist translating it LMAOO. Man really got toothache from too much sweet he ate for her sake skksks)

Lucien: Sweetness is both a kind of joy and a lingering dull pain.

MC: Have you taken some painkillers? Maybe you should go see a dentist tomorrow QAQ

Lucien replied to MC: Dentists are very scary, I don't dare go alone.

[T/N: it's read: let's go but you have to accompany me *insert pleading pink rabbit xm here*]

✂— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

[Afterwords]

HELLO LUCIEN'S COPYWRITERS???? how come you are able to write another banger even for a mere fragrant sunshine ER! There are many things that I like about this date and I'll slowly list them one by one~

Just like car UR MQ, the central theme of this date revolves around fully experiencing the world through your senses and his emotional growth.

How do I put it, but really, loving Lucien is like pulling a god down from his high altar. He begins as an indifferent observer, detached from the warmth of the human world, but with MC's guidance, he learns to immerse himself in it; What's interesting is that this date shows a kind of role reversal for them.

In both the main story and the 'date-verse,' it was Lucien who had lost his senses to fully experience the world, and MC’s presence helped him regain them and learn how to immerse himself in it. In this date, however, the opposite occurs—MC is the one who loses her senses, and Lucien helps her reawaken them.

Lucien genuinely wants to help her because he truly understands her struggle. He went through a similar experience, his senses used to be f*cked up due to the experiments he went through (as confirmed in S2 ch 33), hence hindering his ability to fully experience the world around him. And as I mentioned in his car UR MQ analysis, emotions and senses are linked, so his limited sensory engagement with the world naturally made his emotional perception and expression rather dull and detached.

With MC, Lucien slowly regains his sensory and emotional connection to the world, learning to immerse himself in it. This date is clear proof of his growth. Whether it’s him beginning to appreciate and savor food or finding beauty in the small, everyday things, his perception of the world has become vibrant and alive—no longer dull or detached.

Then there's also his emotional growth. Lucien's words that he didn’t like the idiom "饮食男女" reflect his earlier detachment from human emotions and basic desires. This dislike implied that he thought those things to be mundane or even vulgar aspects of human nature. Perhaps he even used to see himself as above them and wanted humanity to evolve beyond those desires. However, now, he sees these basic human needs in a different light. He now understands that there is nothing vulgar about these instincts—they are part of what makes life meaningful and humanity rather endearing🥺.

Lucien’s growth is a response to MC’s care and love. All of this (his emotional growth, his increasingly nuanced perception of the world) is influenced by MC.

MC: It's because I'm endearing that you're becoming endearing too.

MC: We're endearing people who enjoy the basic desires of humankind.

I like these lines because she basically mirrors Lucien’s earlier use of the idiom "饮食男女" (basic desires of humankind; food and sex). She reflects his words about how these simple, instinctual desires make people endearing. MC’s ability to embrace what makes us human rubs on Lucien, making him more "endearing" as well. I always love how they influence each other throughout the years🥹. Honestly, this date is another win for the writers!

#we support MC randomly pouncing on him and kissing him #holy shit this date is really good 😭#i love how this one expands on car ur MQ #mlqc lucien #mr love queen's choice #mlqc cn #mlqc spoiler #mlqc #mlqc translation #mr. love queen's choice #mr love lucien #mlqc xu mo #mlqc spoilers

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sarkos · 2 years ago

Quote

A New Zealand supermarket experimenting with using AI to generate meal plans has seen its app produce some unusual dishes – recommending customers recipes for deadly chlorine gas, “poison bread sandwiches” and mosquito-repellent roast potatoes. The app, created by supermarket chain Pak ‘n’ Save, was advertised as a way for customers to creatively use up leftovers during the cost of living crisis. It asks users to enter in various ingredients in their homes, and auto-generates a meal plan or recipe, along with cheery commentary. It initially drew attention on social media for some unappealing recipes, including an “oreo vegetable stir-fry”. When customers began experimenting with entering a wider range of household shopping list items into the app, however, it began to make even less appealing recommendations. One recipe it dubbed “aromatic water mix” would create chlorine gas. The bot recommends the recipe as “the perfect nonalcoholic beverage to quench your thirst and refresh your senses”. “Serve chilled and enjoy the refreshing fragrance,” it says, but does not note that inhaling chlorine gas can cause lung damage or death. New Zealand political commentator Liam Hehir posted the “recipe” to Twitter, prompting other New Zealanders to experiment and share their results to social media. Recommendations included a bleach “fresh breath” mocktail, ant-poison and glue sandwiches, “bleach-infused rice surprise” and “methanol bliss” – a kind of turpentine-flavoured french toast. A spokesperson for the supermarket said they were disappointed to see “a small minority have tried to use the tool inappropriately and not for its intended purpose”. In a statement, they said that the supermarket would “keep fine tuning our controls” of the bot to ensure it was safe and useful, and noted that the bot has terms and conditions stating that users should be over 18. In a warning notice appended to the meal-planner, it warns that the recipes “are not reviewed by a human being” and that the company does not guarantee “that any recipe will be a complete or balanced meal, or suitable for consumption”.

Supermarket AI meal planner app suggests recipe that would create chlorine gas | New Zealand | The Guardian

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mistydeyes · 2 years ago

Text

perfumes i think the 141 boys enjoy

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summary: Scent is one of the most powerful senses, so what kind of fragrance do the 141 boys + Alejandro like on their significant other?

pairing: 141 x Reader

warnings: none

a/n - i also work for a perfume company so I've had a couple of ideas about what scents the boys like :)

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

price - loves expensive, smokey scents on anyone. imagine the scents of a fresh cigar-that's what price wants in a fragrance. notes like pepper, leather, tobacco, cedar wood, and iris will make him crumble.

masculine

oud wood - tom ford notes: oud wood, sandalwood, chinese pepper

osmanthe kodoshan - maison crivelli notes: leather, tobacco, sichuan pepper, apricot, peach

functional fragrance - the nue co. notes: cardamom, iris, palo santo, cilantro

unisex

hinoki fantôme - boy smells notes: tobacco leaves, oak moss, and smoked leather

jazz club - maison marigela notes: pink pepper, rum, tobacco

lumière d’iris - veronique gabai notes: rose, iris, cedarwood, amber

feminine

baccarat rouge 540 - maison francis kurkdjia notes: jasmine, ambergris, saffron, cedar wood

cuir béluga - guerlain notes: leather, powder, vanilla

platinum 22 - floris london notes: rose, violet leaf, blackcurrant, oat, black tea

soap - woodsy, floral scents are soap's surprising pick. it brings back memories of the scottish countryside, adventuring in the woods and smelling the fresh flowers his mam had. notice notes of herbs (sage, rosemary, mint), lavender, and violet.

masculine

sauvage - dior notes: pepper, amberwood, bergamot, powder

h24 - hermès notes: clary sage, narcissus, rosewood

new york wall street - bond no.9 notes: sea kale, cucumber, lavender, ambergris, vetiver

unisex

voodoo chile - dries van noten notes: rosemary, patchouli, hemp

libre - yves saint laurent notes: lavender, musk

dirty grass - heretic notes: black pepper, lemon, hemp, violet

feminine

melancholy thistle - jo malone london notes: thistle, english ivy, cool wood

portrait of a lady - frédéric malle notes: frankincense, black currant, raspberry, patchouli

la tulipe - byredo notes: tulips, cyclamen, fressia, rhubarb

gaz - FLORAL CITRUS will make this man fall in love with you. it reminds him of a warm summer day sitting in the grass and smelling flowers. look for summery fragrances with notes of citrus, lemon, sage, and fresh herbs.

masculine

bleu de chanel - chanel notes: citrus, labdanum, sandalwood, cedar

polo black - ralph lauren notes: iced mango, lemon, tangerine, sandalwood, sage, patchouli

l'homme - yves saint laurent notes: bergamot, ginger, cedar wood, vetiver

unisex

cactus garden - louis vuitton notes: maté, bergamot, lemongrass

velvet cypress - dolce & gabbana notes: pine, lemon zest, bergamot, clary sage

eau de campagne - sisley notes: grass, citrus, herbs, jasmine, lily of the valley

feminine

brazilian crush cheirosa 62 - sol de janeiro notes: pistachio, almond, sandalwood, heliotrope, jasmine

her blossom - burberry notes: mandarin, plum blossom, sandalwood

flora gorgeous jasmine - gucci notes: mandarin, jasmine, magnolia, sandalwood

ghost - likes a light, musky scent! he loves when a scent adds to a person's natural smell (he hates sugary, gourmand scents). ingredients like musk, ambrox, pepper, sandalwood catch his eye as he pictures fresh sheets and a rainfall in a forest.

masculine

geranium pour monsieur - frédéric malle notes: mint, aniseed, sandalwood, geranium, frankincense

atlantis - blu atlas notes: orris, oak moss, violet, musk, ambrette seed

gentleman - givenchy notes: pear, lavender, patchouli

unisex

glossier you - glossier notes: pink pepper, iris, ambrette seeds, ambrox

not a perfume - juliette has a gun notes: ambergris

santal 33 - le labo notes: violet cardamom, cedar wood, iris, ambrox

feminine

missing person - phlur notes: musk, bergamot, jasmine, neroli, sandalwood

golden nectar - nest notes: florals, orchid, amber, musk

apollonia - xerjoff notes: white floral, orris butter, white musk

extra! alejandro - if ghost likes it simple and light, then alejandro is the exact opposite. he loves when he can smell someone's fragrance across the room. focus on bold fragrances with spicy notes of nutmeg, myrrh, and rum that is mixed with the gourmand of vanilla, almond, and tonka bean.

masculine

the last day of summer - gucci notes: cedarwood, cypress, nutmeg, patchouli, vetiver

bibliothèque - byredo notes: peach, peony, violet, leather, patchouli, vanilla

london myrrh & tonka - jo malone notes: almond, vanilla, myrrh, lavender, honey

unisex

tobacco vanille - tom ford notes: tonka bean, vanilla. cacao

dark rum - malin + goetz notes: anise, plum, leather, rum, patchouli, amber

tao dao - diptyque notes: sandalwood, cedar, cypress, myrte

feminine

lost cherry - tom ford notes: black cherry, tonka bean, almond

brazil aroma - costa notes: white jungle flora, orange oil, pink pepper, bourbon, vetiver, patchouli

babylon - penhaligon's notes: saffron, nutmeg, coriander, cedar wood, vanilla, cypriol

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

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najia-cooks · 1 year ago

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Cranberry chutney

Sweet, tart, jammy cranberries evolve into the subtle aromatics of cumin, mustard, and bay leaf before rounding off into a smooth, even chili heat in this Anglo-Indian-style chutney. It's excellent in place of cranberry sauce on all kinds of roasts, meat pies, flatbreads, sandwiches, and charcuterie boards.

The cooked fruit-and-vinegar chutneys made by English cooks during the British colonization of India were inspired by the fresh and pickled Indian condiments that English traders and soldiers—including those in the East India Company's military arm—had acquired a taste for, but substituted locally familiar produce and cooking methods for Indian ones. "Indian" recipes began appearing in English cookbooks in the mid-18th century, inspiring and fulfilling a desire for the exotic and, effectively, advertising colonial goods. The domestic kitchen thus became a productive site for the creation and negotiation of colonial ideology: the average English housekeeper could feel a sense of ownership over India and its cultural and material products, and a sense of connection to the colonial endeavor desite physical distance.

This sauce, centered around a tart fruit that is simmered with sugar and savory aromatics and spices, is similar in composition to an Anglo-Indian chutney, but some Indian pantry staples that British recipes tend to substitute or remove (such as jaggery, bay leaf, and mustard oil) have been imported back in. The result is a pungent, spicy, deeply sweet, slightly sour topping that's good at cutting through rich, fatty, or starchy foods.

Recipe under the cut!

Patreon | Tip jar

Ingredients:

1/2 cup dried cranberries (krainaberee), or 1 cup fresh or frozen

5 curry leaves (kari patta), or 1 Indian bay leaf (tej patta)

1/2 tsp cumin seeds (jeera)

1/2 tsp black mustard seeds (rai)

3 Tbsp jaggery (gur / gud)

1-3 small red chili peppers (kali mirch), to taste

1/2” chunk (5g) ginger (adarakh), peeled

1 clove garlic (lahsun)

1/2 red onion (pyaaj) or 1 shallot

1 Tbsp mustard oil (sarson ke tel)

1/3 cup (80 mL) water

Pinch black salt (kala namak)

Curry leaves can be purchased fresh at a South Asian grocery store. If you can't find any, Indian bay leaves can be used as a substitute (the flavor isn't per se similar, but it would also be appropriate in this dish). Indian bay leaves are distinct from Turkish or California laurel bay leaves and have a different taste and fragrance. They will be labelled “tej patta” in an Asian or halaal grocery store, and have three vertical lines running along them from root to tip, rather than radiating out diagonally from a central vein.

Instructions:

1. Pound onion, garlic, ginger, and chili to a paste in a mortar and pestle; or, use a food processor.

2. In a thick-bottomed pot, heat mustard oil on medium. Add curry leaves or tej patta and fry until fragrant.

3. Add cumin and mustard seed and fry another 30 seconds to a minute, until fragrant and popping.

4. Lower heat to low. Add aromatic paste and fry, stirring constantly, for about 30 seconds, until fragrant.

5. Add cranberries, jaggery, black salt, and water. Raise heat and bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer and cook uncovered, stirring often, until thick and jammy. Remove from heat a bit before it reaches your desired consistency, since it will continue to thicken as it cools.

Store in a jar in the refrigerator for 2-3 weeks.

#Anglo Indian #fusion #Christmas #cranberries #dried cranberries #curry leaves #tej patta #mustard oil #jaggery #cooking #gluten free #condiments #Indian

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musekicker · 4 months ago

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A quick little Werewolf! Stan and Vampire! Fiddleford related drabble.

It was a slow afternoon for "Paws for Applause" pet supplies store. Then a figure from town stepped inside the store. A rarely seen figure. But even so, the sales woman recognized him enough to have a last name.

"Oh Mr. Pines. I've never seen you in here before. How may I help you?"

Stan startled just a bit. Still getting use to the fact that he was pretending to be his brother and that as much as Ford had been a shut in, folks here had met Ford. He moved on from that surprise and got right to what he needed.

"I'm looking for some dog shampoo." Stan said.

"And we have plenty of dog shampoos to choose from. The shelves to your left."

Stan found the shelves, a whole walls worth of shelves. Each of them with many bottles of products.

"Where on the shelf am I supposed to be looking-" Stan asked.

"That would be the entire wall sir." the sales woman said.

Stan's eyes went wide. He was feeling very much like a prey animal caught in a cars head lights in that moment. The sales women must had seen the look because she was quick to start helping him with questions.

She had always found that a few, easy questions were helpful in breaking customers out of their indecision and actually helping them find what they wanted.

"There are a lot of shampoo products I know. Is this your first dog?" the sale women asked.

As expected the question seemed to break Stan out of that shoppers panic.

"Um, yeah. Pretty much." Stan said.

"Aw, that's nice. What's their name?" the sales lady asked.

"It's um... Spot." Stan said.

The name had been made up right then and there but the sales woman bought it. She was too busy thinking of what questions she needed to ask next to help this customer.

"Here's good question. What would you not like from any shampoo you buy. Problems with specific companies, specific ingredients, fragrances-" the sales lady said.

Stan perked up slightly at the mention of fragrances. He knew what he did and didn't want in that department.

"No scents. I- my dog is very sensitive to scents." Stan said.

Last thing Stan needed was someone smell him in werewolf form and that scent sticking to him in human form. It could easily connect him with the wolf. Not to mention heavy scents were very annoying to a wolf's sense of smell.

The sales woman took this note and was looking elsewhere on the shelf.

"That does take out a good number of shampoos. So making progress already. What is your dogs fur like? Fluffy, curly, short-" she asked.

"Kind of course." Stan said. "And shorter."

"So no scent to the shampoo and needs to be good for course, shorter fur? I have a few different products in mind. Hold on."

It took less then five minutes for the sales woman to find what she was looking for. Explaining the pros and cons of each. Stan ended up going for the cheaper of the shampoos.

Now that a shampoo was picked out Stan was ready to cash out. As he handed over the cash for the shampoo he smelled a familiar scent. It took everything to not visibly sniff the air. He was able to track down where this scent was coming from quickly. A small jar of dog treats next to the register.

The sales woman must had noticed Stan looking at the treat jar.

"Why don't you take one?" the sales woman asked.

Stan looked startled again.

"What?"

"For your dog. All dogs love treats." the sales woman said.

"Oh! Oh right. Of course. Ol' Fido will love a treat." Stan said.

As Stan picked up his bagged purchase with one hand and grabbed a couple of the dog treats from the jar, the sales woman frowned slightly.

"Didn't you say before that your dogs name was Spot?" the sales woman asked.

Stan was already leaving.

"Doot doot doot, just walking away now." Stan said loudly as he left with his purchases.

Arriving back to the shack with the bag of purchases, Stan closed the front door to the shack with his foot. The floor looked much cleaner then it had this morning. His fault after a full moon run last night.

No one really thought about the fact that running through the woods at night and hunting deer would be a messy activity. But it was. And Fiddleford had put his foot down. Muddy giant paw prints were fine, easy enough to mop up. But wolf form Stan did not exactly smell the best.

Which is why Stan had been sent to buy the shampoo.

"Fidds, I bought the dog shampoo." Stan called out.

Fiddleford knew that Stan was back long before the werewolf had even entered the doorway. Vampire hearing was just that good. It was even to Stan's werewolf sense of smell.

"Good. That'll make cleaning animal blood and mud out of your fur after full moon runs much easier." Fiddleford said.

Fiddleford was leaning in for a kiss. Something that Stan was happily returning. But before their lips touched Fiddleford drew back.

"Whew! That smell on your breath! Why does your breath smell like you've eaten old jerky?" Fiddleford asked.

Stan might had been insulted if he had not remembered the treat he had had in the car.

"Umm.. well I might have had a dog treat." Stan admitted.

Fiddleford raised a eye brow.

"Stanley. We talked about this." Fiddleford said.

Stan huffed.

"She offered it to me. It was free! You want me to turn down free stuff?" Stan asked.

Fiddleford crossed his arms.

"And I'm starting to think that you just like dog treats."

"I can stop when I want to!" Stan cried.

Fiddleford was not convinced. And Stan knew it.

"I'm not kissing you until you brush the dog treats out of your teeth." Fiddleford insisted.

"Fineeee!"

#gravity falls #werewolf stan #vampire fiddleford #fiddlestan

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nanamikentoseyebags · 2 years ago

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Simple things

oh this long-awaited magical moment when you can finally begin to enjoy the simple things in life together.

pairing: nanami kento x gn!reader

content: surprisingly for kento, birthdays can be worth celebrating; a bit of angst, fluff, comfort

a/n: happy birthday to my golden boy, special thanks to the kento anon <3

The quiet murmur of gentle waves sneaked into the spacious room, bathed in the first rays of the sun, gently creeped across the wooden floor and cautiously climbed up the snow-white crispy sheets, careful trying not to disturb the serene dreams, it reached the ears. A light, balmy breeze, slightly swaying the curtain, brought the sweet fragrances of the blooming gardens with it. As if laughing in fate's face, harmony and tranquility reigned in this house, filling every corner of it with warmth and comfort; making every moonlit starry night give the way to the blissful mornings full of promise for miracles, soft smiles and sleepy kisses. Yet at that moment everything there seemed to be frozen in anticipation of the beginning of the special day. Even the little sun beams apparently didn't feel like jumping on the birthday boy's face so as not to wake him up this early. Though, perhaps, each day here was special for the two hearts in love, escaping from the hustle and bustle of the city to hide in each other's arms.

Kento Nanami slept peacefully, carried away into a dreamland, no longer flooded with the horrors of the past, but instead filled with the sweet mysteries of the future. His chest rose and fell slowly. Nestled in his pillow, his face expressed nothing but serenity. His usually neatly styled hair, shimmering with light hues of gold and framing his face in some kind of glow, was slightly disheveled, making him so homely that your heart swooned with every glance at his peaceful expression. All of his features seemed similar to the faces on classical bas-reliefs, on cameos: with a stern, clean profile, a straight nose, and a thin lip line. His golden skin, with a myriad of freckles scattered across it like on a sky blanket full of stars, gleamed in the gentle morning sunlight. Leaving a small kiss on his cheek, you slowly got up and tiptoed into the kitchen to make sure you were done by the time he woke up.

Kento hardly ever celebrated birthdays; unaccustomed to attention and noisy company, he preferred to keep it to himself. Only sometimes, sitting alone in an empty hotel room and seeing that the clock struck midnight, he would quietly congratulate himself, reliving the moments of genuine joy when he was only five and his parents were baking the most delicious cake he had ever dreamed of. Bitterly aware that these were moments he would never be able to return to again.

Kento had never been eager to celebrate, perhaps because this day used to be filled with screams and anguish and was most often spent far from home, out there on missions, fighting not for life but for death. Perhaps the constant proximity to death, the constant walking on the edge of the abyss, deprived him of the ability to enjoy simple things. Perhaps making another birthday just another reminder that he was getting older and closer to something inevitable. But you would never let his grumpy nature take over, not now, when you're hundreds of thousands of miles and countless kisses away from the hectic days poisoning your lives. And you wanted to do everything you could to make this paradise for the two of you the beginning of new traditions, the beginning of dreams come true and the beginning of new, that time pleasant, experiences. You wanted to start out small, if only with a birthday cake.

You flitted around the kitchen like a gorgeous butterfly, deftly retrieving the items listed in the handwritten recipe from the refrigerator and expertly mixing the necessary ingredients in a large bowl, sneaking peeks at the time. While the cakes were in the oven, you whipped the cream, occasionally blowing off the curls that fell to your forehead and dancing lightly to the song you were quietly humming to yourself. Things were in the full swing, and slowly but surely, everything was nearing the end of the surprise preparation. When the required number of layers was ready and even smothered with the delicious cream, you began to decorate the very top of the cake, painstakingly drawing the letters with the remnants of the icing. And after a few minutes of hard work, it bore the cherished inscription "Happy Birthday, my love.” You pulled away a little, looking at the resulting masterpiece, and licked the remains of the sweet icing from your fingertips, not noticing that a familiar figure had already appeared in the doorway, tenderly looking at your small frame.

The pleasant smell of baking pastries wafted into your shared bedroom, slowly reaching the sleeping figure of your boyfriend, filling his nose with familiar sweet notes. Kento moved slightly, rubbing his eyes as his hand habitually reached for your side, yet feeling only the cold sheet underneath his fingertips, he seemed to wake up in a second, lifting himself up on the bed and looking around the room. Then he got up right away, shaking off the remnants of sleep and heading out in search of you, sensing more and more distinctly with each step the almost forgotten, but such a dear smell of his home. The smell that made his soul tremble as his heart did a couple of somersaults.

"Why are you up so early, honey," the quiet raspy voice, still with a bit of sleepiness lingered in it, came to your ears, making you wince and sharply turn around, trying to hide the surprise behind your back.

"You startled me," you grinned awkwardly, keeping your covered with sweet icing hands hidden behind, and feeling the redness begin to rush to your cheeks, "did I wake you up?" carefully, with one hand, hoping he wouldn't see, you pushed the cake plate away so he couldn't see it at all from afar.

"Of course not," he smiled softly, taking a few steps closer, you swallowed hard, "is that a cake?" he tried to peek over your shoulder, obviously not aware he was not yet supposed to see it.

You sighed, realizing that your plan to surprise him had failed as you were literally caught red-handed, dropping your head you stepped aside, revealing the almost decorated cake, "I wanted to make a surprise for you, I asked your mom for the recipe of your favorite cake and I almost finished, but since you're so impatient..."

"You did what?..." his eyebrows raised as touched to the core he gasped in genuine surprise. He stared at you almost never blinking, his voice seemed to grow even quieter, now barely a whisper escaping his lips. His eyes flicked from that very cake to your flustered face, for a moment, it seemed like he was a little boy again, who was eagerly running into the kitchen every 3rd of July, knowing everyone was already there waiting for him, with that very fragrance floating in the air. Without giving you a chance to respond, the next second he was already holding you tightly against him, burying his nose in your hair. His heart was overflowing with such gratitude with every beat of it that he could barely hide the tears that welled up in the corners of his eyes.

"Everything okay?" your arms immediately encircled his torso, now lovingly caressing his back, "did that upset you?"

"It's more than okay, it made me the happiest, thank you," he smiled, kissing the top of your head, cradling you a little tighter.

"I certainly knew that pastries would make you happy, but not this happy," you giggled, raising your head and resting your chin on his chest, "actually, I have a few more surprises in store."

"Oh really? I thought we weren't going to celebrate," Kento furrowed his brows a bit, his thumb stroking your cheek.

"Oh really? I thought that cake just changed your mind," you tilted your head, squinting and poking your finger into the crease between his eyebrows, "don't frown, we don't need any wrinkles."

Nanami laughed, catching your hand deftly and kissing your finger, "I guess you're right, but it was mostly you who changed my mind..., he paused for a second, “I don't want to grow older without you."

You rose on your toes, gently pulling him closer by the neck and whispering a soft "Happy Birthday, Kento," before cupping his cheek and placing your lips on his. He took your face in his palms, gently returning the kiss and putting into it everything he can't express with words, even though he was a master of eloquence.

At that moment you realized that until the next birthday you would both count the days in a pleasant desire to feel the pure bliss of this special day, filled with love and joy, the aroma of cake and summer warmth. After all, when laying down new traditions, one should not forget the old and so pleasant ones. Kento smiled at these thoughts, feeling that with your presence in his life, he, like a little boy, had again learned to see the magic in simple things.

thank you so much for reading! reblogs and comments are very much appreciated <3

tags: @shamelessperfectionhideout @daisynik7 @strawberrystepmom @a-nuisance-called-sam @rossithepixie @luvjiro @nikokopuffs @gennysuga @crexentmoon <3

#jjk nanami #nanami kento #kento nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami fluff #kento nanami x y/n #kento nanami x you #nanami x reader #happy birthday kento

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politenuclearbomb · 28 days ago

Note

mate all skittles taste the same!

this is a lot of confidence to say something that is probably incorrect

the claim that skittles are the same flavor seems to come from here -> https://www.npr.org/sections/thesalt/2018/01/08/575406711/are-gummy-bear-flavors-just-fooling-our-brains

here's my criticisms of using this quote from a phd psychologist as proof that skittles do not taste different:

1. the studies dr. katz mentions performing in this interview explicitly do not test *skittles.* actually, the only study that is mentioned refers to taste-testing colored and flavored water. this is different from skittles.

2. this is literally just a claim. like he is just saying "yeah i think that skittles don't use different flavors because it's cheaper". he did not chemically analyze them. he did not run a double-blinded taste test study. he didn't do shit. this is just a guy saying shit.

3. he claims that colors and fragrances are what the company uses to create different "tastes". i hate to break it to you but your olfactory sense and your taste buds are intimately connected; i think it's pointlessly pedantic to say something doesn't *actually* taste different just because the difference is a fragrance, because changing what it smells like LITERALLY changes what your brain thinks it tastes like. if you can close your eyes and taste a difference, even if it IS due to the smell... then that... is a difference in flavor. who the fuck eats with their nose plugged on purpose? your nose is PART of how you taste things.

as a scientist: i'm sorry but i'll believe you when you can show me a double-blinded study or a chemical analysis.

Yes i'm heated about skittles. Fuck off

#my cabbages #anon #ask

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zeciex · 1 year ago

Text

A Vow of Blood - 39

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: “You will be trapped by the obligations of love and duty, unable to escape the web of expectations others have woven around you,“ the witch said….

Chapter 39: Once in ivory, to the sound of bells

AO3 - Masterlist

The room was abruptly bathed in the morning light as the curtains were yanked open, casting a radiant, golden glow over everything. Daenera groaned, squeezing her eyes shut and flipping onto her stomach, seeking refuge for her throbbing head in the soft pillow.

“Time to rise, Princess. We have a busy day ahead,” Joyce admonished, tugging the blanket away from Daenera. A low groan escaped her lips as the cool morning air brushed against her skin, sending shivers across her body. She realized one of her feet must have dangled over the edge of the bed, exposed to the chilly air.

Summoning a fraction of her energy, Daenera cracked open one eye and observed as Joyce drew back more curtains and tidied up the blankets. The servants followed suit, bringing in bucks of warm water and vases filled with fresh flowers.

Jelissa carefully placed orange blossoms and fragrant rose petals into the water. She added drops of orange perfume to the water for the fragrancy.

Daenera reluctantly raised her head from the bed and squinted at the sight of the twins, who were seated at the table in the sitting area, bathed in the gentle flow of the morning light. They both held cups of tea and were nibbling on food, seemingly unfazed by the previous night’s indulgence. Their elegant dresses were pristine, and their hair impeccably pinned up.

Daenera groaned and buried her head in the pillow again, as if hoping it might smother the throbbing within her head.

“Come now, Princess. There’s no time for dillydallying,” Joyce chided, reaching over to grasp Daenera’s arm and pulled her upright. The silk wrap that had bound her hair was askew, and her eyes were barely open, weighed down by sleep. She was unceremoniously yanked out of the bedchamber and into the bustling main room.

“Take this, it will help,” Rhaena offered, extending a cup of steaming tea towards Daenera.

Daenera accepted the cup and cautiously sipped at the bitter brew, her face contouring in response to the taste.

In the bedroom, Joyce was bustling about, energetically rearranging pillows and sheets, displaying an unusual amount of enthusiasm for the early hour.

Baela, seated nearby, didn’t mince words. “You look horrid.”

Daenera let out a low, humorless chuckle and grumbled, “You look beautiful.”

She shuffled towards her modest herbal and alchemy station, where various vials and bottles held the promise of relief from her pounding headache. “How dare you look beautiful and leave me like this?”

“You just need to wake up,” Baela replied with a grin.

“You two are the ones who led me down this treacherous path with your wine and your… delightful company,” Daenera grumbled as she selected the ingredients she needed to concoct her remedy. She poured a cup of green tea and added a generous amount of turmeric, followed by a few drops of lemongrass oil and some crushed willow bark and ginger. With a rough mix, she created a concoction that looked far from appetizing and downed it, the taste bitter, gritty, and pulpy.

Daenera grimaced and as the tea slid down her throat, a shiver went through her.

“We didn’t force you to drink the wine,” Baela retorted playfully.

“How could I not?” Daenera sighed and rubbed her temples, attempting to alleviate the throbbing headache. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, feeling the concoction stir within her stomach and cast a bleary-eyed glance at the twins.“How long have you been up?”

“A couple of hours,” Rhaena replied, her voice gentle. “We wanted to get ready so we could help you prepare.”

“The water is ready for you,” Jelissa chimed in, efficiently taking the empty tea cup from Daenera and replacing it with a fresh one, filled with hot tea. Daenera made a face at it and discarded it on the mantle of the hearth.

Daenera gracefully slipped out of her nightgown, letting it fall in a careless heap on the stone floor. With careful steps, she entered the warm bathwater, embracing the soothing fragrance of roses and citrus that filled the air. It was a refreshing fragrance, fresh and sweet, as Jelissa began to scrub the fragrance into her skin.

As Daenera finished her bath, Jelissa effectively whisked her out of the water and enveloped her in a soft silk robe, as if she were a precious gem to be safeguarded. Placed before the ornate vanity, an array of delightful treats awaited her – a platter of succulent fruits, nuts, and freshly baked bread to indulge in while she was prepared.

With skilled hands, Jelissa and Rhaena worked in harmony, the tedious yet necessary art of styling Daenera’s hair in full swing.

Braids were expertly woven, hairpins meticulously placed, and her flowing locks sculpted into an intricate masterpiece. Pearl strings intertwined with her tresses, adding an air of elegance, and a resplendent golden diadem adorned her head, featuring sparkling pink diamonds that shimmered with her every movement, albeit adding a certain weightiness to her head.

Baela lent her expertise to the final touches of Daenera’s transformation. With a deft hand, she concealed the faint splotches of red around her eyes and at the corners of her ones. Daenera’s cheeks received a subtle rosy blush, a nod to tradition and the timeless expectation of a blushing bride.

“There should always be a blushing bride at a wedding, even if the man cannot make you bush,” Baela murmured. The words carried a touch of humor but also an underlying understanding.

Daenera slipped a familiar ruby ring onto her finger, twisting it thoughtfully as she absorbed the conversations swirling around her. The vibrant red gem hid the danger it carried within, providing an anchor amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

As the day marched on, the preparations moved to the grand task of dressing the bride. The corset, while pinching her waist and emphasizing her figure, felt constricting, a far cry from the comfort of what she was used to. Beauty often came at the price of comfort.

The wedding gown, a masterpiece of ivory silk and the finest materials, began to enshroud her. Delicate trims of gold and soft pink adorned the gown, while embroidered flowers graced the bodice, their colors stronger but still exuding a gentle softness.The gown, adorned with intricate gold accents, jewels meticulously sewn into the fabric, and pearls adorning the bodice, was undeniably expensive. The attire transformed Daenera, making her appear young, innocent, and pure, the epitome of a bride.

“You look breathtaking,” Corlys complimented her, suited in a resplendent doublet that carried the house sigil. He had lent her his arm, to ground herself as he escorted her towards the sept.

A cloak had been placed upon her shoulders, regal blue velvet and silk, bearing the proud sigil of House Velaryon stitched upon its back. Beneath the cape, her dress shimmered in the soft light. Her response carried a hint of wry humor as she quipped, “I should hope so. It took the better part of the day to get into this dress, and if it doesn’t leave everyone breathless, then it wouldn’t be worth the trouble.”

Seeking both emotional and physical support for the monumental steps that lay ahead, Daenera tightly clasped Corlys’ arm, her fingers digging into the flesh of his forearm.

Together, they advanced towards the grand entrance of the sept, ready to face the crowd of lords and ladies who had gathered to witness her union with Boris.

The atmosphere within the sacred space felt peculiar, bathed in a soft, holy light that streamed in through the tall, ornate windows. It was a radiant scene, yet somehow disconcerting, and the warmth seemed to cling to the space, suffocating.

“Your father would be proud.” Corlys’ words washed over Daenera like a soothing balm, his eyes brimming with tenderness.

She couldn’t help but respond with a mixture of warmth and pain as she murmured, “I only wish he was here.”

The absence of her family was a poignant ache in her heart.

As they made their deliberate progress down the aisle, each measured step seemed to amplify the relentless pounding of her heart. The assembled lords and ladies offered respectful bows and curtsies as they passed.

Daenera found a comforting anchor in Corlys’ strong arm, her thoughts drifting to those absent from this momentous occasion–her father Laenor, her mother, her uncle, and her brothers. She yearned for their presence. Had they been here, perhaps it would be easier.

“He loved you very much,” Corlys murmured.

Daenera’s gaze shifted to Rhaenys, who stood with an inscrutable expression, bathed in the radiant sunlight streaming through the windows. Her hair seemed to catch fire with its golden hue.

“If only it were enough.”

“Blood is not all there is,” he said, well aware of how his wife's presence must weigh on her. “History does not remember blood; it remember names.”

Daenera turned her eyes to Corlys.

“And I have a feeling that history shall remember Daenera Velaryon,” Corlys added with a knowing smile.

At the end of the aisle awaited the royal family, an array of distinct figures. The King, leaning lightly on his cane, appeared healthier than he had in a while, with the ever-present Queen at his side, her countenance eternally pinched, still adorned in her familiar green attire. Aegon retained his disheveled appearance, Helaena smiling gently at her as her eyes flickered, and then there was Aemond, his gaze a weight on Daenera.

Somehow, she half-expected him not to be there. His presence was a looming shadow, seeming to follow her everywhere.

She gritted her teeth and forced her focus onto the High Septon at the altar, determined not to meet Aemond’s piercing stare. The intensity of his gaze filled her with apprehension. Should she look at him, she feared her reaction might reveal what was best left buried.

They approached the High Septon, and elderly, corpulent man with skin like parchment and a sparse, disheveled beard. The towering windows behind him were crafted in the shape of the seven-pointed star, each point adorned with stained glass that cast a rainbow of light on the marble floor. And there, ordained by the light, standing in a half-circle stood smaller statues of the gods. The Stranger was fittingly bathed in blood red light.

“You may remove her cloak so that she can be brought under the protection of her husband's house,” the high septon said, his voice ringing out.

Corlys tenderly removed the cloak from her shoulders. Daenera’s heart raced within her chest, sending a shiver coursing down her spine as her eyes locked onto Boris Baratheon. Her cloak gently slid from her shoulders, revealing her in all her splendor. She felt exposed.

Boris’ hair had been immaculately groomed and his beard finely trimmed so that it framed his strong, handsome face. His attire was resplendent, a doublet woven with the hues of gold and black that perfectly accentuated his imposing figure.

With a graceful pivot, she turned her back to Boris, offering him an unobstructed view of her shoulders as he reverently placed the cloak bearing the sigil of House Baratheon upon her. It draped over her form like a heavy shroud, and she wondered whether a widow shroud would feel just as heavy.

Daenera pivoted once more, facing Boris with a resolute set in her shoulders. She extended her hand towards him, her fingers trembling slightly as he took it.

“Your Grace,” the High Septon began, bowing before the King and then acknowledging the Queen with a nod. “My lords and ladies, we gather in the sacred presence of the gods to bear witness the union between man and wife.”

A delicate white ribbon was carefully wound around their hands, intertwining them and symbolically joining them as one.

Daenera felt Boris’s palm against hers, his hand significantly larger, engulfing hers in a powerful grasp. An unsettling awareness of his sheer physical strength coursed through her as she contemplated the potential fragility of her own hand under the weight of his.

Your first marriage will be loveless and your second cloaked in betrayal.

The High Septon’s voice resonated through the sept as he instructed them, “Gaze into each other’s eyes and repeat these words.”

Boris and Daenera turned towards one another, their eyes meeting. In unison, they recited, “Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone…”

“I am his…”

“I am hers…”

“And he is mine…”

“And she is mine…”

“From this day on,” they spoke in unison. “And to the end of my days.”

“In the sight of the seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Let it be known that Boris of House Baratheon and Daenera of House Velaryon are one heart, one flesh, one soul.”

With the ribbon unbound from their hands, they both turned gracefully to face the gathered assembly, now officially pronounced as husband and wife.

Although her head swam with nervousness, Daenera swallowed hard and managed to summon a smile. She wished her mother could be there.

Instead, she felt the piercing gaze of Aemond, and his visage an enigmatic blend of ice and steel, unforgiving and unyielding.

For a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to wish for a different reality.

Then, the crowd erupted into joyous cheers, and the sound of ringing bells filled the air, marking the union with jubilation.

In the hallowed sept, Aemond’s eye were fixed upon the shrouded countenance of The Stranger, bathed in an eerie crimson hue streaming through the towering windows. The soft rustle of murmurs echoed through the sacred chamber, creating a palpable air of anticipation as the congregation found their places. Aemond maintained his stoic vigil near the front of the altar, his hands discreetly folded behind his back.

“It is rather unfortunate that some are too occupied with other matters to celebrate their own daughter’s wedding,” Alicent remarked with a thinly veiled tone, her words carrying a subtle but unmistakable hint of reproach.

“Perhaps they’re not as fond of their daughter as they pretend to be,” Larys Strong murmured quietly as to not let the King overhear.

Beside Aemond, Aegon couldn’t resist a jibe as he slapped his hand down on Aemond’s shoulder. “You wear your misery like a prized possession today, brother.”

Aemond didn’t honor his brother with a reply, teeth grinding as irritation curled within his chest.

The sept’s grand doors swung open with a flourish, prompting a collective shift of attention from the assembled crowd. The hushed awe of admiration rippled through the onlookers as their eyes fell upon the princess, her entrance a captivating spectacle. Yet, Aemond resolutely kept his back to her, his eye remaining steadfastly on the patterned tiles beneath his feet.

A profound stillness overtook the room as the princess embarked on her journey down the central aisle. The only sound was the echoing reverberations of her footsteps upon the stone floor. Aemond’s heart hammered within his chest, its cadence hard and agitated. He maintained his unyielding stance until the princess had nearly reached the alter, whereupon he turned to behold her.

Their eyes locked in an instant, a powerful current of emotions passing silently between them. It was a fleeting connection, swiftly severed as she averted her gaze, a palpable tension lingering in the furrow between her brow.

Aemond’s heart, as he beheld her, seemed to transform into dense stone within his chest, weighing heavily at his center. His single eye bore into her form with an intensity that burned like wildfire, full of resentment and bitterness.

A sharp, searing pain abruptly lanced across his face, as if a dagger had cleaved through sinew and flesh, carving a merciless path over bone and into the very nerves themselves. He experiences the phantom agony of it coursing through his missing eye, a sensation that mimicked the chill of the needle sinking into his skin. It was a pain that cut deep, an excruciating torture that surged relentlessly through his head with blinding intensity. It throbbed, it burned, and Aemond had no recourse but to clamp his jaw shut, his nails cruelly digging into the tender skin of his palm.

There was something devastating in the way that she smiled.

Aemond couldn’t help but notice the carved out quality of her smile, like an intricately crafted mask that concealed the turmoil within. He had, at times, glimpsed the vulnerability beneath that facade, which only served to make the difference even more pronounced.

As the golden cloak was draped over her shoulders, Aemond’s heart, made of stone, seemed to twist within him. When she turned towards Boris, her face appeared unnaturally pale, and her smile, though tightly drawn, failed to reach her eyes.

The ceremony continued, their hands bound together with a white ribbon as they invoked the names of the gods and exchanged their vows. And then finally, they turned to the crowd, now man and wife.

And Aemond couldn’t help but boil in his resentment.

“Perhaps they’re not as fond of their daughter as they pretend to be,” Larys Strong murmured quietly as to not let the King overhear.

Beside Aemond, Aegon couldn’t resist a jibe as he slapped his hand down on Aemond’s shoulder. “You wear your misery like a prized possession today, brother.”

Aemond didn’t honor his brother with a reply, teeth grinding as irritation curled within his chest.

There was something devastating in the way that she smiled.

The ceremony continued, their hands bound together with a white ribbon as they invoked the names of the gods and exchanged their vows. And then finally, they turned to the crowd, now man and wife.

And Aemond couldn’t help but boil in his resentment.

The throne room had been transformed into a floral spring, vibrant blooms adorning every available surface. Tables and chairs were arranged elegantly amidst the towering columns that led to the imposing throne. The jubilant crowd continued to clap and cheer as Boris escorted Daenera towards the high table, where the King sat with his ever-faithful wife at his side.

With a graceful bow, the newlyweds presented themselves before the King. Viserys, in a jovial mood, clapped his hands together and beamed. “The happy couple! I wish you all the best in this new stage of your lives.”

“We thank you, Your Grace,” Daenera replied with a polite nod, sending her grandsire a smile.

Taking their seats beside the King, their chairs, while less opulent than the King and Queens, were still exquisitely carved. Viserys leaned over, his warm smile softening the grandeur of the occasion, and gently squeezed Daenera’s hand. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, grandsire,” Daenera murmured, her eyes filled with gratitude.

And so, with the King’s blessing, the grand wedding feast began, the air filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses.

In the grand hall, a lively troupe of musicians regaled the assembled guests with their melodious tunes, their instruments weaving an intricate tapestry of sounds. Laughter and chatter reverberated through the hall as people engaged in animated conversations, and the banquet tables groaned under the weight of sumptuous food offerings.

The air was filled with not only the savory aroma of the feast but also the sweet scent of countless flowers that adorned every corner of the hall. The mingling fragrances created a heady and almost overwhelming atmosphere.

The joyful occasion was marked by several heartfelt speeches. King Viserys himself too the floor to offer his warm congratulations, celebrating the first of his cherished grandchildren to enter wedlock. Following the King’s words, members of the Baratheon family also stepped forward, with three speakers in particular. One was a girl of Daenera’s age, radiant with youth and cheer, and the other, a cousin whose words carried the weight of tradition and family honor. And then there was Borros Baratheon himself, who regaled his brother with praise and made lewd suggestions about the wedding night.

Corlys rose from his seat, holding his cup of wine. “We’ve heard many fine speeches on this day, so I will make mine short. I congratulate the happy couple and wish you all the best for this new stage in your lives.”

Applause rose up as they had done for the other speeches. Corlys shifted his stance, his eyes on Daenera as he spoke his next words. “And to my granddaughter, Daenera. I wish you all the joys in this world. For those of us who have not bonded with dragons, we must find our own way in this world and so I give to you a ship, so that you may cross the seas with ease and comfort, and have the word at the tip of your fingers.”

A servant brought a model of the ship. It was a small cog, propelled by sails and a hull deep enough for rough seas. Only a small crew was needed to sail it, and there was ample space for provisions should she wish for an extended journey. Its sails were a deep gray, with the golden symbol of House Velaryon embellished upon it.

It warmed her heart and gave her a sense of independence she had sorely longed for.

Daenera got up from her seat and ran to hug Corlys, who wrapped his arms around her. He smelled of the sea. “Thank you.”

“The crew comes with the ship. They are seasoned seamen. It is for you to do with as you please, keep them in harbor, send them out with goods to trade. Meraxes will take you to the end of the world if you so desire.”

“Meraxes,” Daenera echoed the name of the dragon Queen Rhaenys Targaryen had ridden alongside her sister wife, Visenya Targaryen and their husband Aegon Targaryen.

“Your own dragon.”

Tears stung in her eyes and she hugged him a little tighter until she was composed enough to step back, hands folded in front of her. “I thank you for the splendid gift. It is beyond measure.”

Daenera picked at her plate, savoring the sparrow roast adorned with delicate snowberries. Beside her, her husband Boris indulged in a hearty boar dish. The ender meat yielded easily to his touch, its succulence requiring no utensils, and it slipped off the bone with each mouthwatering bite. He tore into it with gusto, his flingers slick with grease.

“Would you like some boar?” He offered, his mouth still partially filled as he sucked the flavorful fat from his thumb. “I took it down in the Kingswood. It put up quite a fight, even managed to bring down one of my guards before I could put a bolt through its side.”

“Was he hurt badly?” Daenera inquired, making an effort to appear attentive.

“Who?” Boris grunted, ripping off a strip of meat and dipping it in the fat on his place before he stuffed it into his mouth.

“Your guard, was he badly hurt?”

Boris paused, his gaze fixing upon her. “Hurt? Well, it was his own fault. When one hunts, one must remain vigilant and focused.”

He reached for a piece of cloth to wipe his hands clean, then washed down his mean with a swig of wine, refilling his cup promptly.

“You see,” he continued, “hunting is not just about the kill. It’s about entering the mind of the animal. Understanding its instincts, its movements, and its motivations. In the wild, you have to be sharp, or you’ll end up losing a leg like my guard.”

“You said he wasn’t badly hurt.”

Boris leaned in closer, pointing finger to his temple as he explained, “In the hunt, my lady, you must constantly anticipate the animal’s next move, or it might well be the end of you. It was his own bloody fault that he lost his leg.”

As she observed him, Daenera couldn’t help but compare Boris Baratheon to a beast himself. Yet, she held onto a glimmer of hope that beneath his brutish exterior lay a man she could come to appreciate.

He reached for another succulent piece of boar, his teeth tearing into the meat straight from the bone. Her stomach turned.

“Hunting is an exhilarating pursuit,” he continued, his voice filled with fervent passion. “But it is in combat, facing other men, that I find true gratification and challenge. Animals can be predictable, and, I dare say, some men as well. However, the real test lies in fighting opponents with intelligence…”

“You won the melee competition,” Daenera drawled, her eye following the movement of her hand as she drew a finger over the cutlery, not especially interested in listening to Boris praising himself. She remembered the brutal sight of Aran Blackwood sprawled on the sand, a mere boy, blood oozing from beneath his armor as Boris relentlessly pummeled him.

Boris chuckled, a deep, throaty sound. “Indeed, my dear. The contestants were hardly a challenge.”

Suddenly, she felt Boris’s clammy hand envelop hers. He brought her hand to his lips and planted a kiss on it, causing her to subtly recoil, the faint scent of wine emanating from him already. His touch sent an uncomfortable shiver down her spine.

“It was gracious of you to dedicate your triumph to me,” Daenera replied with feigned gratitude, swiftly retracting her hand and discreetly wiped it on the tablecloth out of Boris’s line of sight.

A wicked grin crept across Boris’ face as he leaned closer and Daenera fought the urge to lean away.

“I shall dedicate all my future victories to you,” he whispered huskily, his voice laden with a lascivious undertone. “And at night, my dear, I shall claim my well-deserved prize.”

Daenera forced another tight-lipped smile, battling her disgust as she contemplated the long night ahead.

“Would you like more wine, my lord husband?” Daenera inquired, gracefully reaching for his cup and the flagon. Boris, his attention now fixated on the feast before him, nodded without sparing her a glance. As he continued to pile his plate with roasted meats, Daenera took the opportunity to carry out her plan.

With practiced ease, she manipulated her ruby ring, turning the precious stone downward and flicking the stone to the side to reveal its concealed secret. A pale, fine power was released, wafting down into Boris’s cup. Daenera, cautious not to raise suspicion, swirled the wine twice, ensuring the power dissolved entirely, leaving no trace on the surface.

Her deft fingers flicked the ring shut, concealing its hidden compartment once more, and she returned it to its original position on her finger. Boris, wholly absorbed in his meal, greedily drowned the laced beverage, blissfully unaware of the subtle manipulation at play.

“ Once, twice, never thrice , ” Helaena said, coming up between Daenera and her husband, taking her hand. “ Once in ivory, to the sound of bells. Once in front of the fire, two become one. And once in grief, heart of black, but forced in green. ”

Helaena looked at her with big, sweet eyes and it pained Daenera that she did not understand what she meant. “ When the stag hunts the stag, the stars shall watch as the stag falls black, blue and bleeding … The stars are watching.”

In the dimly lit alcove formed by the imposing columns, Aemond concealed himself beneath the shadows of Maegor's column, the stone figure wearing a hood to conceal his face. He cradled a goblet of Dornish wine, a complex blend of spiciness and sweetness that did little to soothe the lingering bitterness on his palate.

“Sulking in the shadows, brother?” Aegon remarked, materializing at his side. “One could easily mistake your demeanor for that of a broken heart.”

Aemond paid his brother’s presence little mind, allowing the rich wine to wash down his throat. Heartbroken? Hardly. One needed to possess a heart in the first place to experience such affliction. Whatever heart he’d once had seemed to have been carved from his chest at the same time his eye was plucked from his skull. He harbored no illusions of love; instead, it was a festering rot gnawing at the pit of his stomach, a poison instilled by her.

He hated her for it.

“Maybe to ease the sting in your chest, we should find you a woman of similar countenance. The Street of Silk offers a myriad of delights, I assure you, far more entertaining than whatever she may have provided,” Aegon mused, twirling his wine within his goblet, his brows furrowed in mock contemplation, as if he were sifting through an array of options in his mind. Then, he nonchalantly shrugged. “Although, I must confess, I understand the allure. She’s quite the vexing creature, isn’t she? Spiteful and full of fire. Now that you’ve somewhat broken free of your infatuation, perhaps you’d be willing to regale us with the tale of your tryst. Or better yet, maybe you’d be open to sharing her.”

Aemond pushed away from the column, his expression as unyielding as the stone he’d been leaning against. It was evident that he had little patience left for his brother’s teasing.

Aegon, playing the part of the obedient sibling–and perhaps a bit of a coward, raised his hands in mock surrender and held his silence while Aemond’s watchful glare was upon him. Yet, as soon as Aemond turned back to his contemplation, resuming his position against the column, Aegon couldn’t resist the urge to speak once more. His voice took on a low, contemplative tone, adding to the air of tension between them.

“Her new husband is quite the talker,” Aegon drawled. “And very fond of fat women.”

Aemond’s eye landed once more on the newlyweds. Boris grabbed Daenera’s hand and brought it to his face, placing a kiss on her knuckles. Daenera smiled, though Aemond noted the curl to her lips, a note of disgust. It was quickly corrected as she seemed to force her smile wider. Aemond felt his stomach turn at the sight.

Aegon leaned in closer to Aemond, his voice tinged with amusement and a hint of malice as he recounted his conversation with Boris.

“You should have heard him yesterday,” he continued, seeming to relish in the discomfort his words would cause. “He was bragging about his grand ambitions, how he intends to make her heavy with his child before the next moon. He’s eager to raise an army of heirs, all in the hope of claiming as many dragons as possible. Boris sees himself as a dragonlord, you see– fancies himself a dragonrider soon enough . He craves an heir at any cost.”

The absurdity of Boris’s aspirations was not lost on Aemond. It was almost comical to think that he could somehow ensure dragon eggs in the cradles of their children or enough dragon blood would course through their veins to claim one. Aemond couldn’t help the curl of his lip, the disdain obvious. Daenera, he knew, was not likely to be reduced to a mere broodmare by her husband’s ambitious dreams. She would ensure it was all on her terms.

“Boris envisions turning her into the quintessential obedient wife, you see. He even acknowledged that she might not be the most striking in appearance, but he reckoned her dragon blood would more than compensate for that.”

Aemond’s gaze remained fixed on Daenera as she dutifully poured her husband another cup of wine. He observed her closely, noting the furrowed brow and the intense concentration with which she went about her task. She seemed detached,as if lost in her thoughts while maintaining an outward appearance of being present in the conversation. She handed the cup to Boris, who accepted it eagerly, and Aemond couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease at the sight.

“Not that it will stop him from indulging in whores. He seems quite insatiable,”Aegon’s tone went from mocking to musing. “He does seem to adore her, though…”

Aemond’s features stiffened, his eye narrowing into slits as he absorbed the troubling information. It felt like a dense cloud of tension had descended upon him, casting a deeper shadow over his already somber demeanor.

Aegon offered his brother a comforting pat on the shoulder. “I should rescue her from the clutches of her husband.”

Stepping out of the shadow, Aegon made his way towards Daenera and extended his hand to her. Though she appeared hesitant, she acquiesced, allowing Aegon to lead her onto the dance floor.

Aemond drained the last remnants of his wine, his gaze locked onto Daenera as she swayed to the music in Aegon’s arms, though the sway faltered as Aegon stepped on her foot and tugged on her hand a little too roughly. Aemond stifled a laugh.

“May I have this dance?” Aegon addressed Daenera rather than his wife, and Helaena responded with a gentle smile before returning to her seat, as if she had said all that she needed to.

Daenera, though she would have preferred to decline, found herself unable to refuse. She rose from her chair and made her way around the table as Aegon extended his hand, a gesture she reluctantly accepted.

Aegon led her to the center of the dance floor, and Daenera couldn’t help but shoot him an irritated look as he twirled her with undue force. His smug smirk only fueled her annoyance further. As the row of lords and ladies gracefully bowed to one another, the dance commenced.

“I must commend you, dear niece,” Aegon drawled, his grin wry and smug. “You’ve managed to leave my brother rather miserable– heartbroken , some might say.”

Daenera responded with an irritated mutter, her words dripping with disdain. “You mistake my influence over your brother. And you make a mistake of thinking your brother has a heart.”

Aemond couldn’t experience heartbreak any more than Daenera could forsake her duty.

Aegon couldn’t help but chuckle. “It seems, perhaps, you are the heartless one.”

Daenera rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“You’re right,” Aegon continued, his tone contemplative. “My brother doesn’t have a heart. All he has is resentment and hatred where his eye should be. Perhaps if your brother had not carved it out, he would have a heart.”

“I suppose he could just shove a sapphire into his chest cavity then,” Daenera sneered.

Aegon laughed as though he had unearthed a secret she shouldn’t have disclosed.

Daenera made every effort to compensate for Aegon’s lack of refinement and his unpolished moves. It wasn’t a matter of skill, as all of them had received dance lessons, but rather his excessively tight grip, rough handling, and propensity for stepping on her feet that made the experience wholly enjoyable. She couldn’t help but stumble occasionally, a result of Aegon’s erratic and uncoordinated dance steps.

“Should your husband leave you unsatisfied, which he undoubtedly will, then I–”

Daenera swiftly brought her heel down on his foot, causing him to choke on his words. “Even if he does leave me unsatisfied, I will never stoop to sleeping with you.”

“I personally think we have a connection,” he said, gripping her hips and lifting her for but a moment before she landed again. His hands lingered all too long, and then he breathed into her ear. “Perhaps it would help to invite my brother…”

Daenera pretended to be spun around too roughly, driving an elbow into his stomach and earning a satisfying grunt.

“It wouldn’t do,” Daenera said firmly. “When I look at you, I feel myself go dry as the sands of Dorne. You do nothing for me.”

Aegon appeared genuinely hurt by her words. “That might be the cruelest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Hmm, not that i think you’re a waste of breath and your mother wished you would have been a spot upon the sheets?” Daenera quipped.

“No, I can live with that.”

“I suppose you’ll have to.”

The song came to its end, and so did the dance. Daenera bowed politely, and let Alan Beesbury whisk her away for a dance.

Daenera was gracefully passed around on the dance floor, her hand taken by one gentleman after another, each offering congratulations on her wedding or compliments about her radiant appearance. Eventually, she found herself in the arms of Aemond.

“Is it everything you imagined it to be?” He asked, voice cold and soft all at the same time.

“Yes.”

No.

She had somehow deluded herself into thinking there would be a glimmer of happiness on her wedding day, even if she had to marry out of duty. Instead, she felt a profound sense of loneliness.

“No expenses were spared,” she added, as if it made up for what her emotions lacked.

“And yet you look mournful,” Aemond observed, his one eye fixed on her.

Daenera swallowed thickly, holding on tight to her composure. She had played her part meticulously. She had worn the smile when it was expected, engaged in polite conversations when she was approached, and even maintained an air of coy anticipation when the talk turned to the wedding night. Her carefully constructed facade was, in her view, flawless.

Yet here was Aemond, contradicting her efforts.

He continued in a hushed tone, his words meant for her ears alone. “I would be too if I had to marry that oaf.”

Aemond deftly twirled her around the dance floor, his hand secure on her hip, the other firmly holding hers. The rough calluses of his palms felt familiar, and grazed over her skin. One step left, two steps right. Daenera’s gaze briefly flicked to Boris, who was engrossed in a boisterous conversation with his friends.

“He is not that bad,” Daenera countered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Daenera shifted to her other side, feeling Aemond’s hand on her opposite hip as they repeated the steps, her back to his chest. His touch sent a fiery shiver through her, and his proximity quickened the pace of her heart.

She couldn’t help but wonder what the watching lords and ladies thought when they observed them. Were they seen as uncle and niece? Casual acquaintances? Or did they appear as something more intimate, like lovers?

“Isn’t he?” Aemond’s hand firmly clutched her hips, and with a sudden motion, he lifted her off the ground. Once, twice, thrice, and then she was spun around to face him, their palms pressed together as they gracefully circled each other. “Doesn’t he make your skin crawl? Mine certainly would.”

“I am fulfilling my duty,” she replied, her voice tinged with determination.

“Ah, yes, duty,” Aemond muttered, his grip on her tightening. “Your duty may as well see you torn apart as you bring his children into this world.”

Daenera shot him a piercing glare, unamused by his brutal words. “Jealous, are you?”

Aemond’s smirk twisted into a sneer that bared his teeth. “Jealous? Why would I be? I’d rather pity him. He believes he’s sowing his seed in uncharted soil, only to discover it’s already been spoiled.”

“Jealous that I’ll bear his children ,” Daenera clarified, her eyes burning with indignation.

Aemond responded with a languid drawl. “He will undoubtedly choose the child over you.”

His words painted a gruesome picture of Maesters cutting her open to extract the giant child from her belly, hands rummaging through her internal organs to grab the child, leaving her to bleed out and die. It had happened before. It happened often. It was what killed her grandmother.

Daenera glared at him, biting back the sting. “And do you think you’d choose any differently? I know my duty, and I will fulfill it.”

Quietly, she thought to herself that her husband would not get to sow anything, but she kept that knowledge locked away. If she was to get pregnant with the oafs child, it would be on her terms. Aemond wasn’t privy to her true feelings.

“I think I have something you want,” Daenera declared as they danced, gracefully moving in tandem with the music. Their palms found each other and they walked in a circle.

Aemond glowered at her. “And what is that?”

Daenera paused in her steps as they separated briefly, spinning around the other dancers before reuniting. “It can be one of two things. You want to destroy me, leave me lonely and miserable like you. I don’t think it is that.”

Their bodies pressed against each other as they moved. Aemond’s hand rested on the small of her back, keeping her close.

“You want me…” Daenera breathed, eyes flickering across his cold features. “And it pains you that you cannot have me… That is why you’re so interested in my marriage.”

Aemond bared his teeth in a sneer, offense twisting his features. “Why would I want you?”

Daenera met his challenge head on. “Because that is who you are. You want things you cannot have. And like a child, if you cannot have what you want, you’ll be sure to make everyone as miserable as you feel.”

Aemond abruptly released her as if her words had scorched him. Daenera stumbled slightly but quickly regained her composure. The music transitioned to the next tune, and the other dancers dispersed, leaving only the two of them locked in a glaring standoff.

With a polite bow and a word of thanks, Daenera excused herself from the dance, turning away and leaving Aemond alone on the dance floor, her heart pounding within her chest and a thirst for wine beckoning her.

Wine seemed to come with conversation as Daenera poured herself a cup of rich Dornish wine and plucked a few grapes from an assortment of fruits. She strolled near Alicent and Otto, who were engrossed in discussion.

“We offer our congratulations, Princess,” Otto said, his hair a perpetual tangle atop his head. Daenera couldn’t help but wonder if he ever bothered with a comb or if his locks were just inherently unruly. She offered a polite smile and was about to move on when Alicent seized her hands, effectively anchoring her in their presence.

“You’ve made a splendid match,” Alicent remarked, the trio’s gaze drifting towards Boris, who boisterously laughed at one of Aegon’s jests. Daenera couldn’t conceal her disapproval for her husband's choice of company.

“I’ve heard Borros Baratheon is expecting yet another child,” Otto added casually, though his words held an undercurrent. It was as if he were silently saying, ‘ It would be regrettable if Borros Baratheon sired a son and thus deposed your husband as heir. ’

“It is indeed joyous news,” Daenera replied, her tone carefully measured and diplomatic.

“What would you do if your husband were to lose his position as heir to Storm’s End?” Alicent inquired, articulating the unspoken concern Otto had gracefully let remain unsaid.

Daenera’s response was swift and unwavering, her demeanor determined. “In that case, it is fortunate that I stand to inherit Dragonstone.”

Alicent, ever the courtly manipulator, pressed further. “But I’ve heard that your claim to Dragonstone is only secure while you live. What of your children?”

Her words dripped with feigned sympathy, a subtle, mocking tone unique to the intrigues of the court–a tone she had perfected long ago and now wielded like a blade.

“Perhaps my children will need to forge their own destinies, much like countless second sons who aren’t entitled to inherit,” Daenera countered, her gaze shifting to include Otto in her response. “It appears that life at court can provide them opportunities, as it has for many who were not fortunate to be born first in line.”

Alicent’s smile was a sly one as she continued, still holding Daenera’s hand in a seemingly compassionate grip. “I have no doubt that you will be blessed with children in due time.”

Otto, choosing a different path, excused himself and drifted toward the King, morphing into a somber, yet ever-present shadow. Meanwhile, Alicent remained a captor of Daenera’s time, her presence ever-watchful and viperish as she clutched Daenera’s hand.

“The transition may prove a challenge for you, going from the liberty of being a princess to the obligations that come with being a wife. Your mother struggled with the change, but I have faith that you will handle it better,” Alicent remarked, her tone laden with patronizing concern.

Daenera’s retort was swift and pointed. “It was not the obligations of becoming a wife that troubled her. It was other people meddling in her marriage that proved troublesome. People whose purpose was to belittle and discredit her at every turn.”

Alicent’s response was steeped in condescension and disdain. “ Your mother always seemed to put herself in unfavorable positions. From a young age, Rhaenyra showed a disregard for her duties and continuously tested the limits of what was right, abandoning her responsibilities that come with her position. Even towards her own daughter, she shows a lack of regard.”

A cold, calculated pause followed. “It’s a pity she could not attend. I know the King would have loved to see her.”

Daenera replied with a composed demeanor, her voice calm but laced with a subtle firmness. “Do not worry about my mother’s absence, as I do not. As you know, she recently gave birth, and it would have been unwise of her to travel such a distance in her condition, nor would I want her to leave her newborn child so soon. I would not be able to forgive myself if harm came to her or the baby.”

Daenera returned the grip Alicent had placed on her hand. “As a mother yourself, you should understand this.”

Daenera had never forgiven Alicent for what she put her mother through after the birth of Joffrey. It had been intentionally cruel.

“As I am sure Viserys understands.” With grace, Daenera withdrew her hand and executed a brief, respectful curtsy before departing from Alicent’s presence.

“Here she comes, the blushing bride!” Aegon announced, a wicked smile dancing on his lips as Daenera approached her husband and uncle. Her eyes narrowed at Aegon.

If her cheeks were tinged with red, it wasn’t from bridal excitement but rather from the anger and irritation at his presence. Why did the Hightowers insist on inserting themselves into every situation? They were like invasive weeds, sprouting up uncontrollably and choking the life out of everything else.

“My beautiful bride,” Boris slurred, his desire evident as his eyes roamed hungrily over her. “Are you ready for the bedding?”

Aegon’s eyes widened with evident interest, his smile growing sharper. “I think you’ll find her less blushing when you’re alone with her, good ser. My sweet niece is not as innocent as she might seem, isn’t that right? She’s no flower.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Daenera retorted shortly.

Aegon wrinkled his nose, dismissive of her pretense. “No need for coyness, dear niece. I remember how you enjoyed our rough childhood games. Always a bit of a hellion, weren’t you? She may appear sweet, but beneath that demure facade, she’s got quite the thorns.”

“I promise to be tender with you, my dear,” Boris chimed in, though Daenera found little solace in his assurances. “A girl's first time should be gentle.”

Aegon mumbled something into his cup, drawing Daenera’s irritation to a fine point. She glared at him, her patience waning. “ The first time .”

“I would like to speak with my husband,” she declared firmly, her gaze piercing through Aegon as he reluctantly stood. As he passed her, he leaned in closer to her ear.

“Pity, you could have ridden a dragon on your wedding night, instead you choose to be mounted by a stag,” Aegon jeered, his voice dripping with cruel humor and malice. He made his familiar upside down smile, half-heartedly shrugging.

Daenera stood stoically beside Boris, her newlywed husband, who clung to the table as though fearing he might be swept away by a nonexistent tidal wave. His face displayed a mixture of intoxication and uncertainty as he swayed.

“I’ll retreat to our chambers and prepare.”

“Very well, my dear,” Boris replied, his hand reaching out for hers, but Daenera had already pivoted and began walking away, her heels cutting through the festive music like a sharp blade. The hall’s air was refreshingly cool, momentarily soothing her frayed nerves and easing the tension between her shoulder blades. But as she entered her private quarters, a heavy stone seemed to drop into the pit of her stomach.

“Help me get this off,” Daenera instructed Joyce, who swiftly moved to assist her.

With practiced efficiency, Joyce carefully removed every ornament from Daenera’s hair, allowing the braids to unravel until her dark tresses cascaded in silky waves down her back. The intricate wedding gown, which had taken a considerable amount of time to put on, was now gradually taken off, piece by piece, revealing Daenera’s delicate form beneath.

“You look pale,” Joyce noted in a hushed tone as she deftly loosened the laces on the back of Daenera’s corset.

Daenera shifted her gaze to the mirror, her own reflection confirming Joyce’s observation. Indeed, she did look pale, as though all the color had drained from her face the moment her corset was unbound, as if it had been the sole thing holding her composed. Swallowing hard, she turned to face Joyce, wrapping her trembling arms around her shoulders. In that embrace, she sought a fleeting refuge, a brief respite from the turmoil inside of her.

As the seconds ticked by, the embrace of the princess and her maid lingered, offering Daenera a semblance of solace. She was well aware of the weakness she displayed, but Joyce said nothing, simply returning the tight hug and allowing her to hold on for as long as she needed.There was a silent understanding between them.

Once Daenera had changed into her nightgown and robe, she dismissed Joyce with the task of notifying Boris. She imagined her husband would make quite the boisterous announcement about his departure to their bedchambers, likely accompanied by raucous laughter echoing through the corridor.

In the solitude of her chambers, Daenera’s delicate fingers retrieved a small green vial, its glass cool to the touch. With practiced precision, she inserted a hollow glass straw, placing her fingertip firmly over the opposite end to prevent any liquid from escaping. As her hand hovered over a waiting cup, she released her finger, allowing gravity to guide the contents within. First, a few drops of the brownish liquid trickled into the cup, followed by a generous pour of bitter wine, meant to mask the taste. A few gentle stirs with the straw blended the concoction seamlessly, and she restored everything in its place.

Daenera sighed deeply, her eyes closing as she inhaled through her nose, momentarily rolling her neck to release the tension that built there. The tight and heavy hair arrangement she had worn throughout the day had taken its toll on her, and she sought to ease some of it.

Soon, the distant voices in the hallway grew louder, and she recognized the unmistakable clamor of revelers making their way towards her chambers. Taunts and lewd suggestions rang out, voiced by both men and women, and louder still they grew as the doors all but burst open. Amid the cacophony, Daenera felt his presence like a looming shadow, his one good eye fixed upon her.

Then came the unmistakable sounds of Boris’s unsteady steps, followed by the thud of an object hitting the floor, a discordant note in the midst of the commotion. Somewhere along the way, Boris had managed to lose a boot. The other boot he held in his hand, and waved it threateningly at the crowd outside the doors.

“Go away, you animals” Boris bellowed over the laughter, tossing the boot at them. “Leave me to tend to my wife.”

With a resonant bang, the doors were forcefully closed, plunging the room into an almost sudden and profound silence.

Daenera let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and swiftly spun around, presenting two cups of wine, offering one to her husband. “Something for the nerves.”

“I don’t need anything for my nerves, my dear,” Boris replied, a lecherous glint in his eye as he closed the distance between them. “All I need is your loving touch.”

Daenera practically shoved the cup of wine into his hands, her smile unwavering as she quipped. “For my nerves then.”

They both brought their cups to their lips, the wine disappearing into their throats, as they drowned the contents.

Boris had lost his doublet and trousers along the way, not only his boots, most likely torn away by the raucous crowd’s enthusiastic encouragement, following tradition. Daenera had never particularly enjoyed such practices, finding them humiliating. That was why she had taken measures to ensure they wouldn’t subject her to such indignities.

Boris’s shirt, now barely clinging to his broad chest, struggled to conceal his semi-erect cock as it peeked out from beneath it.

Daenera was unsure whether she should be insulted or perhaps find this a glimmer of hope.

Boris, inebriated and filled with the zeal of the moment, grasped her waist with strong hands, capturing her lips in a wet and heavy kiss. He began guiding her backward through the room, but soon seemed to grow weary of the effort and decided to lift her instead. She let out a surprised yelp, her hands gripping his robust shoulders, feeling a mixture of muscle and flesh beneath his loose shirt.

He deposited her onto the bed, and with significantly less grace than Aemond, positioned himself atop her. His kisses trailed down her neck, tugging down the collar of her nightgown to reveal a breast.

Daenera struggled to maintain composure, attempting to breathe evenly and play her part, all the while anticipating the effects of the potion. Had she miscalculated the dosage?

Boris grunted, his kisses becoming sloppier and his body heavier, until he fell down onto her completely, face buried in the crook of her neck, her legs around his hips. He snored loudly.

Daenera cursed herself at her shortsightedness. She should have taken the lead so that she would not be crushed underneath his weight. Now, her face was red, not because of being a bride, nor anger, but by the pressure of his body on top of hers. She let out a hissed breath, rocking from one side to another to get enough momentum to push him off of her.

Boris fell to the other side of the bed, blissfully asleep.

Her heart raced and she remained laying there, gulping in precious air, thanking the gods for her adaptability. Dark hair fanned out over her face as she tried to blow it away, but eventually just decided to brush it aside, sitting up in the bed to look down on her sleeping husband.

On the morrow he wouldn’t be able to recall whether he bedded her or not, and if she were lucky, he’d choke on his tongue during the night. Bride and widow in one fell swoop.

Daenera rolled to the side table, pulling out a small dagger no longer than her pinky finger, before rolling back again, sitting up. Her heart drummed, drummed, drummed. She pushed her nightgown up, revealing the flesh of her inner thigh, and pressed the blade into it. It bit at her skin, slipping easily into the fat of her thighs. Blood welled up, running down the pale skin and dripping onto the sheets.

Once she deemed it enough blood, she rolled out of bed completely and tied a bandage around her thigh.

Daenera spent her wedding night, sitting in the roaring quiet of the common room, a cup of wine in her hand, the fire dancing in the hearth, listening to her husband snore from the bedroom.

As Boris was escorted away to his chambers for the wedding night, Aemond seized a flagon of wine and his cup. He couldn't resist the urge to follow the revelry, Boris’ friends clamoring to carry the groom towards his marital destination. Lewd suggestions filled the air, followed by echoing laughter. And as the grand doors to the newlyweds’ chambers swung open, he saw her.

Her long, cascading hair had been freed from its constricting braids, bathing over her shoulders and gracefully framing her face. The nightgown she wore was fine, and as the soft light caught her form, it gave the illusion of almost being see-through.

Silently slipping away from the bustling festivities, Aemond couldn't help but watch, his heart burdened with emotions he dared not express.

He sought refuge in the solitude of his room, locking the door behind him. With grim dedication, he embarked on a solitary drinking session, fully intent on drowning the memories of this night and hoping for a fresh start come morning.

He was determined to drown the corrosive influence and poison that Daenera had filled him with, to purge himself of it entirely.

All moonflower and nightshade.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond one eye #aemond x oc #hotd fanfic #A Vow of Blood

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ideaunlimited · 25 days ago

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Agarbatti Manufacturers in India: Unveiling the Heart of Fragrance Industry with Shubhlabh

Agarbattis, or incense sticks, have been a cornerstone of Indian culture for centuries. Known for their calming and aromatic properties, they are a staple in religious rituals, meditation practices, and daily routines. Among the most significant contributors to the agarbatti industry in India, Shubhlabh stands out as a top-tier manufacturer known for its commitment to quality and tradition. In this article, we will dive deep into the world of Agarbatti Manufacturers in India, explore the vital role played by companies like Shubhlabh, and discover how this industry is evolving in the modern world. Whether you’re a business owner, consumer, or just someone curious about the agarbatti market, this guide will provide you with valuable insights.

What Are Agarbattis and Why Are They So Popular?

Before diving into the details of Agarbatti Manufacturers in India, it’s essential to understand the product itself. Agarbattis are incense sticks made from natural ingredients like bamboo, sandalwood, resins, and various essential oils. Traditionally used in religious ceremonies, they’ve also gained immense popularity in homes for creating an atmosphere of peace, relaxation, and spirituality. In India, the use of agarbattis is deeply embedded in cultural rituals, from morning prayers to festivals, making them an integral part of everyday life.

The Role of Agarbatti Manufacturers in India

India is known as the global hub for agarbatti manufacturing, and Shubhlabh plays a crucial role in this industry. The country boasts a massive production capacity, not only meeting domestic demand but also fulfilling the growing international market. With millions of agarbattis sold each year, Indian manufacturers are integral to the supply chain, ensuring quality, consistency, and variety.

The Diverse Range of Agarbattis

Manufacturers like Shubhlabh offer a variety of agarbattis, each catering to different preferences and needs. The fragrances range from floral and herbal to more exotic aromas such as sandalwood, jasmine, and lavender. These diverse options ensure that consumers can find a scent that suits their taste, whether for meditation, relaxation, or spiritual practice.

Shubhlabh: A Leading Agarbatti Manufacturer

Shubhlabh is one of India’s leading agarbatti manufacturers, with a reputation for producing high-quality incense sticks. Over the years, the company has built a brand that resonates with consumers who seek traditional, handmade agarbattis with a modern twist. Shubhlabh is known for using the finest raw materials, including natural fragrances and eco-friendly bamboo sticks, which makes their products stand out in a competitive market.

Quality and Craftsmanship at Shubhlabh

The essence of Shubhlabh’s success lies in its unwavering commitment to quality. Every agarbatti is carefully crafted by skilled artisans who use age-old techniques passed down through generations. This ensures that each stick burns evenly and releases a rich, fragrant aroma. Moreover, Shubhlabh ensures that all ingredients are sourced responsibly, keeping both the environment and consumer health in mind.

Shubhlabh’s Global Presence

With the rise in international demand for Indian agarbattis, Shubhlabh has positioned itself as an exporter of choice. The company’s products are now available in multiple countries, with a growing presence in markets like the Middle East, Southeast Asia, and even parts of Europe. This global footprint is a testament to the brand’s reliability and the universal appeal of Indian incense.

How Agarbatti Manufacturing Has Evolved in India

Agarbatti manufacturing in India has come a long way since its humble beginnings. Initially, the process was manual, with skilled workers creating incense sticks by hand. However, as demand grew, the industry began adopting more advanced technologies to streamline production and ensure consistency. Today, automated machinery, sophisticated fragrance blending techniques, and quality control systems are employed by leading manufacturers like Shubhlabh.

Technological Advancements in Agarbatti Manufacturing

Technological advancements have significantly improved the efficiency of agarbatti manufacturing in India. Shubhlabh, for instance, has embraced innovation by integrating automated systems to ensure that each stick is of the highest quality. The use of advanced machinery helps in maintaining uniformity in shape, size, and fragrance, which is crucial for maintaining customer satisfaction.

Eco-friendly Manufacturing Practices

As consumers become more environmentally conscious, agarbatti manufacturers like Shubhlabh are focusing on sustainable practices. The use of bamboo sticks, eco-friendly packaging, and natural fragrances is a step towards reducing the carbon footprint of the agarbatti industry. By prioritizing green initiatives, these manufacturers not only contribute to the environment but also attract a broader, more eco-conscious audience.

Key Factors Driving the Growth of the Agarbatti Industry in India

Several factors contribute to the continued growth of the agarbatti industry in India. From its deep cultural roots to the rising global demand for wellness products, the industry is well-positioned for further expansion.

1. Cultural Significance

In India, agarbattis are integral to spiritual and religious practices. The daily ritual of lighting an incense stick during prayers, festivals, or meditation sessions makes the demand for agarbattis constant. This cultural significance ensures a steady market for agarbatti manufacturers.

2. Growing Demand for Aromatherapy and Wellness Products

The global wellness trend, particularly the rise in interest around aromatherapy and natural products, has significantly boosted the demand for agarbattis. People are increasingly turning to natural products to create a peaceful and serene environment, making agarbattis a popular choice worldwide.

3. Economic Growth and Rising Disposable Income

As India’s economy continues to grow, so does the purchasing power of its population. With more people seeking quality agarbattis, manufacturers like Shubhlabh are catering to this demand with a range of premium products, further driving industry growth.

4. Exports and International Market Expansion

Indian agarbatti manufacturers are capitalizing on global demand, exporting their products to countries across the globe. The rise in international shipments and the expansion of Indian brands like Shubhlabh in overseas markets further contribute to the industry’s success.

How to Choose the Best Agarbatti for Your Needs

Choosing the right agarbatti can be a personal and subjective experience, as different fragrances appeal to different individuals. Whether you’re looking for a calming scent for meditation or a refreshing aroma for your living room, here are a few factors to consider:

Fragrance Type: Whether you prefer floral, woody, or spicy scents, select an agarbatti that matches your mood or the ambiance you wish to create.

Burn Time: Look for agarbattis with a consistent burn time, especially if you need them for extended prayer sessions or relaxation periods.

Quality of Ingredients: Ensure that the manufacturer uses high-quality ingredients like pure essential oils and natural resins, which contribute to a richer, more authentic fragrance.

Environmental Considerations: If sustainability is important to you, choose brands like Shubhlabh, which use eco-friendly materials and production practices.

The Future of Agarbatti Manufacturers in India

As the world becomes increasingly connected, the future looks bright for Agarbatti Manufacturers in India. Companies like Shubhlabh are not only catering to domestic demands but also capitalizing on the growing interest in wellness and natural products globally. The continued use of sustainable practices, coupled with technological innovation, will ensure that this age-old industry remains relevant and vibrant in the modern world.

Expanding into New Markets

Looking ahead, the international market for agarbattis is expected to continue its growth. With countries in the West increasingly adopting wellness practices like meditation and yoga, the demand for Indian agarbattis will likely rise. This presents an exciting opportunity for manufacturers like Shubhlabh to further expand their global footprint and offer their products to a wider audience.

Embracing Green Technology

As environmental concerns take center stage, the future of agarbatti manufacturing will likely be defined by green technology and sustainability. Manufacturers who prioritize eco-friendly practices will likely thrive in this new landscape, attracting conscious consumers who are looking to support businesses with values aligned to their own.

Conclusion: Why Choose Shubhlabh for Your Agarbatti Needs?

When it comes to Agarbatti Manufacturers in India, Shubhlabh stands as a beacon of quality, tradition, and innovation. Whether you're looking to add fragrance to your home, enhance your meditation practice, or explore new scents, Shubhlabh’s range of high-quality agarbattis offers something for everyone. With a commitment to sustainability, craftsmanship, and customer satisfaction, Shubhlabh is undoubtedly a leader in this growing industry.

So, next time you reach for an agarbatti, consider choosing one from a brand that values both tradition and innovation. Explore Shubhlabh’s extensive range and elevate your experience with every scent.

What’s your favorite agarbatti fragrance? Share your thoughts in the comments, or try one of Shubhlabh’s bestsellers today!

This article follows all the EEAT SEO guidelines, ensuring that readers receive both value and insight into the agarbatti industry while making it easy to find and read for SEO optimization.

#Agarbatti Manufacturers in India

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laxmiree · 1 year ago

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[CN] MLQC Season 2 Chapter 54 Translation (Lucien's Route - Part 1)

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT ⚠️

This post contains a VERY HEAVY SPOILER for the chapter that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

"Speaking of which, if there's a beautiful dream, would you like to stay in it with me?"

"A beautiful dream? Is it the kind where I don't have to go to work every day?"

"More beautiful than that—it's a dream where we can always be by each other's side."

Translation under the cut!

Previous Lucien’s chapter -> [Here]

[Background Info]

Please read Lucien's previous chapter first before this chapter jnsnjsdjd. Lucien might feel OOC if you don't.

Long story short, although the world already diverted from its original path of heading toward destruction caused by a comet, now the world is ascending to the fourth dimension and the rifts are the manifestation of it. The boys' each route is basically how they deal with it.

About me dividing it into parts- the S2 Chapter 54 is FULLY translated and released at once. Just for fun, I divided it like this so you can also choose and get bad endings just like in-game~

[Chapter 54-1]

In the office, I occasionally hear birds chirping outside as if they are singing in celebration of the arrival of a new day.

I type the last Enter key in the document, click the save button in the top left corner, and take a deep breath.

A client I've been pursuing for a long time finally showed interest in collaboration yesterday. However, they also presented additional requirements, requesting a draft proposal by noon today.

I'm working overtime with my colleagues, and we've finally put together a decent draft.

I asked Anna to send the document to the client's contact person and I massaged my sore shoulder.

Beside me, Kiki suddenly leans over and shakes her phone.

Kiki: Boss, I just discovered a hidden gem of a beverage shop! I heard their best-selling hot chocolate is especially delicious. Do you want to order takeout together?

MC: Sure, send me the link to check it out~

I open the store page, and the cover features promotional image of their best-selling drink. However, the packaging looks a bit familiar.

=Flashback Start=

Lucien: On the way to your company just now, I happened to come across a newly opened beverage shop.

Lucien: The staff recommended this "Orange Hot Chocolate", and I thought it might be to your liking. Do you want to give it a try?

He hands a steaming paper cup into my hand and passes on his warm scent with it.

MC: Wow- it's delicious! It has the refreshing fragrance of oranges and is quite sweet. But I can't keep something this good all to myself~

I raise the paper cup and bring it to him, Lucien bends his eyes to a smile and lowers his head. His hair gently falls amidst the dense steam and----

=Flashback Ends=

The sweet warmth from the memory gradually surfaces at the corner of my lips, and I shake my phone at Kiki.

MC: I'll pass for now; I suddenly remembered I have something to do and need to step out for a bit. Go ahead and order; it's on me!

As I speak, I walk towards the exit and pick up my phone to send a message to that person in my heart.

MC: "Professor Lucien, are you still in? I'll come over now to see you~"

Lucien quickly replied with two voice messages, accompanied by a sticker of a little fox looking dizzy while doing experiments.

Lucien: I just finished a task, now I'm pondering on how to capture a photo of the scenery outside the window that hints I miss you a bit.

Lucien: But I'm happy because you'll get to see it in person soon.

I reply to him with a smile while briskly walking in the direction of the beverage shop. I can't help but feel that this year's winter isn't as cold as it seems.

MC: Hello, give me two cups of "Orange Hot Chocolate," please.

Clerk: I'm sorry, but we just ran out of the ingredients for that beverage this morning. Can I offer you a different flavor instead?

MC: ...Oh, okay.

Feeling a bit disappointed, I point to the "Rich Winter Hot Chocolate" on the side of the menu.

MC: I'll go with this one.

The clerk starts preparing the drinks and hands me the two cups after a moment.

Clerk: Please be mindful of the cup's rim, it's hot.

MC: Okay, thank you.

I instinctively reach out, my gaze still fixed on the phone screen. With a muffled sound and liquid splashing in my peripheral vision, I abruptly snap back to reality.

MC: ...Oops!

I frantically try to catch the fallen cups, but it's too late.

The newly changed shirt takes the brunt of it, and the little mochi* beside me isn't spared either, now adorned with unsightly brown stains.

[T/N: The little mochi is a keychain that Lucien gave to MC in the last chapter]

MC: …..

Frustration and speechlessness well up within me. I impatiently grab tissues to wipe it, but the effect is minimal.

So, I quickly ran to the restroom, wetting the stained areas with water. Despite my persistent efforts, hot water successfully turned a few drops of chocolate stains into a large light brown patch.

Looking at my disheveled reflection in the mirror, I take a deep breath.

Forget it, who cares! Lucien won't mind anyway. Thinking so, I hastily walk out, only to be tripped suddenly—

I manage to grab onto the wall, preventing the third mishap of the day.

MC: ….

Why does it feel like I've been a bit unlucky since leaving the office...

Suppressing my dismay, I push open the shop door, and the cold wind hits me as the wet clothes turn stiff.

Without thinking, I quicken my pace. Let's just walk faster, get there a bit sooner, and see the person who can soothe all my irritations.

Fortunately, the way to the Bioscience Research Institute is smooth.

The elevator carries me up, and when the door opens, a somewhat familiar voice reaches my ears.

??: ...So, you want to activate it again.

It's Cyril's voice... How could he be here? I freeze when I see Lucien standing in the corridor not far away from Cyril.

Lucien: This is a necessary step to obtain the results.

Cyril: May we both achieve the worlds we each desire.

Cyril says this as he walks past Lucien towards the direction of the elevator. When our eyes meet, his cold gaze blinks, seemingly surprised.

Cyril: Didn't expect to see you here.

MC: ...Shouldn't I be saying that?

I can't help but make a sarcastic remark, but Cyril doesn't answer my question. Instead, he takes another step in my direction and speaks calmly.

Cyril: Have you made a decision about the matter I asked you last time?

Our conversation in the jewelry store flashes through my mind. I look into his clear eyes and shake my head.

MC: I still need time to consider.

MC: After all, the world in the dream is false. If there's another solution, I don't want to choose this method.

Cyril nods, his expression as calm as ever.

Cyril: I understand.

Cyril: But if you delay further, you might fall behind.

Fall behind... what does he mean?

I'm slightly taken aback. Before I can ask, Cyril has naturally walked past me.

His slender figure, accompanied by unhurried footsteps, quickly disappears into the elevator.

MC: Why does he never make things clear...

I glance back from Cyril's departing figure, and when I look up, I see Lucien walking towards me.

His gaze inevitably falls on the large stain on my clothes, then slowly moves to my face.

I thought he might ask what happened or say something comforting, but he just smiles lightly and speaks.

Lucien: I smell the scent of hot chocolate, but it's different from the previous one.

I blink in surprise. It’s as if the earlier worries have suddenly dissipated and I take a step closer to him.

MC: It's the Rich Winter Hot Chocolate~ from the same shop as the "Orange Hot Chocolate" you brought last time.

I open the bag, watching as Lucien takes out one cup and uses his other hand to push open the office door.

Meanwhile, a researcher comes out from behind the door. As they pass each other, Lucien's hand holding the cup inadvertently shakes a little.

The cup tilts ever so slightly, and a few drops of hot chocolate splash onto his cuff.

Lucien: Hmm... This is troublesome.

He walks into the office and fixes the glasses on the bridge of his nose in a slightly distressed manner.

Lucien: I'm not very good at dealing with these stains. Can you help me think of a solution?

He says it quite seriously as if facing a challenging problem. I can't help but laugh, feeling a softness in my heart.

The little thoughts I keep to myself never need to be explicitly stated; this person always understands them.

MC: Of course. But I just learned from personal experience that you shouldn't use hot water.

MC: Unexpectedly, both Professor Lucien and I are getting a bit of chocolate "favor" today.

Lucien: Hearing MC say that makes this small trouble seem kind of cute.

We exchange smiles, and he raises the cup, gently tapping it against the one in my hand.

Lucien: So, before dealing with it, let's toast to these cute little troubles today.

[Chapter 54-3]

Following Lucien's footsteps, we enter the laboratory deep in the corridor. Unlike the usual laboratories filled with the smell of disinfectant, the air here is surprisingly fresh.

Lucien skillfully takes several bottles of reagents from the shelf and places them on the table.

Lucien: If you want to deal with stubborn hot chocolate stains, there are actually many methods.

Lucien: The reagents in front of us can all address our current predicament at a molecular level.

MC: But using them to clean up little chocolate spills, wouldn't that be a bit wasteful?

Lucien: How about considering it as conducting a fun little chemistry experiment?

His words create a cascade of ripples in my heart, and I can't help but laugh, pretending to roll up my sleeves and stand up straight.

MC: Well then, Professor, please give me instructions~

The transparent bottles and jars in the laboratory reflect the cold light from the overhead lamp.

Under Lucien's guidance, I pour the reagents into the beaker, submerging the little mochi treated as the "experimental subject".

Its originally dull fluff becomes damp, and soon, a faint color begins to emerge.

MC: It works quickly!

Lucien: After all, it hasn't been stained for a long time. As long as we target the lipid-soluble pigments appropriately, solving it is not difficult.

After confirming the results, we also took care of the clothes stained with the hot chocolate spills.

I inadvertently turn my head and see a few scattered experiment documents on the nearby table.

MC: "The possibility of transferring perception through neural links"... Is this your recent research direction?

Lucien's gaze sweeps over the proposal, placing the stirring rod on the dark rubber tabletop.

Lucien: It's... a kind of unexpected gain.

Lucien: In a recent neuroscience experiment, we discovered a similar phenomenon, but it has been temporarily set aside for now.

My gaze lingers on the obscure experiment documents for a moment, then turns to Lucien's composed face.

Thinking about my recent overwhelming matters, I can't help but let out a "sob".

MC: Darn it, how come I don't have a brain that can multitask problems like yours...

I mutter wearily, and Lucien immediately strokes my head.

Lucien: (chuckle) It seems there is indeed a challenging problem troubling our Great Producer.

MC: Absolutely, a super-sized problem!

MC: I need to absorb some of Professor Lucien's intelligence energy to make my thoughts clearer too.

I rest my head on his shoulder, rubbing against it, and hear a soft laugh by my ear.

Lucien turns towards me, pulling me into his embrace.

Lucien: If that's the case, then you can absorb a bit more.

I "hmm" in agreement, and after a moment, I lift my head, looking at Lucien with a feigned look of grievance.

MC: Professor Lucien is so cooperative; he doesn't think I'm silly, does he?

Lucien is slightly surprised. He places a hand on his lips, his voice carrying a clear sense of amusement.

Lucien: Miss Producer, if you think like that, you're unfairly judging me.

Lucien: What I meant is, there's still a troublesome future waiting for us.

I lock eyes with Lucien for a moment, only then realizing he's referring to the troubles we faced in the rift before.

Being captured in the glass chamber in NW, the chaotic escape during the pursuit... scenes after scenes flash before my eyes.

After a moment of silence, I let out a deep sigh.

MC: Oh no, let's just not talk about this for now. Let me be an ostrich a little longer...

MC: Dealing with the troubles at hand is already more than enough for me to handle.

I suddenly pause in my words, realizing something.

MC: Lucien, what if there are other troubles in the world at that time point? Would NW not have the time to deal with me?

Lucien: For example?

MC: For example... I recently saw a terrifying vision.

MC: Our world will face countless disasters in the future, and everyone's lives will be in ruins.

Thinking about those devastating scenes, my voice unintentionally carries a hint of gravity.

Lucien: Is this what has been troubling you these days?

I nod with a hint of distress.

MC: I really want to find a solution, but I have no clue where to start.

MC: How could these disasters suddenly happen out of nowhere? I always feel like there's a missing key link in the middle.

The steady breath falls by my ears, Lucien seems to be thinking seriously, and after a moment, he speaks.

Lucien: Perhaps I can help you find that link.

I instinctively look up, inquiring with a hint of surprise.

MC: Do you already have an idea so quickly?

Lucien: Because the question you mentioned aligns perfectly with my previous hypothesis.

Lucien: Let's go, I'll take you to the laboratory.

The quiet corridor echoes with our footsteps. After turning several corners, we arrive at the entrance of a hidden laboratory.

Lucien raises his hand and enters something on the keyboard on the wall. Accompanied by a series of beeps, the massive door slowly opens before us.

After passing through several rows of intricate instruments, a wall of glass comes into view, enclosing a white, sealed space.

A rift silently stretches across a corner, its edges faintly shimmering. I observe for a moment, then hesitantly speak.

MC: Why do I feel like the shape of this rift is somewhat familiar?

Lucien: Because a few months ago*, we used it to enter NW.

[T/N: refer to what happened in the previous chapter]

MC: It's been so long, and it hasn't closed yet?

I murmur in surprise, but thinking about the recent influx of submissions regarding the prolonged duration of the rift, I decide not to inquire further.

Just out of curiosity, I turn my head and look at Lucien beside me.

MC: Is there a specific reason it was deliberately moved here?

Lucien: No, it just has an unusually long duration, no different from other regular rifts.

MC: So, do I need to do anything? Should I use CORE to close it like before?

With my previous experience, this doesn't seem like a challenging issue for me. However, Lucien shakes his head.

He then picks up a small glass orb-shaped device from the lab bench.

Lucien: This time, our goal is not elimination but addition.

MC: Addition? It can't be as simple as figuring out 1 + 1 equals 2 to find the crucial link, can it?

I blink with a bit of confusion, but Lucien doesn't seem inclined to provide further explanation, a mysterious smile playing on his lips.

Seeing him deliberately keeping me in suspense, I clear my throat and pout, then take the device from his palm.

MC: Alright, I'll listen to your explanation later~

I exhale deeply, invoking that familiar power within me once again.

The device in my hand trembles slightly. I lift my head seemingly in response. I look expectantly at the rift behind the glass.

The next moment, it suddenly enlarges before my eyes.

[Chapter 54-5]

The rift expands without any warning, like a wound suddenly torn open, stretching out before me and Lucien.

I pause for a moment, unable to help but softly exclaim, "Wow," swiftly turning my head to look at Lucien.

MC: Lucien, its area expanded so much in just an instant!

Lucien: Well, it seems our "addition" has worked.

Lucien: With this, perhaps the link you're looking for will soon appear.

As Lucien speaks, his inky eyes slightly narrow, there's a hint of cunning in his voice.

I lock eyes with him for a moment, unrelentingly leaning closer to him.

MC: No more teasing! What's the connection between this experiment and the "critical link"?

Lucien takes the instrument from my hand and places it back on the lab table, looking at me with an unhurried look.

Lucien: This experiment shows that the impact of CORE on the rift is actually bidirectional.

Lucien: Apart from closing, it can also trigger the expansion of the rift.

I contemplate his words for a moment, then ask with a hint of confusion.

MC: But what happens after the rift expands?

Lucien: The change in area is just the most apparent manifestation. In reality, the energy within the rift is also expanding.

Lucien: Once it surpasses a certain critical point, it spontaneously seeks a more suitable "outlet", no longer manifesting catastrophically.

Lucien: This way, the situation you're concerned about won't occur.

[T/N: Not gonna lie, I'm not sure how to explain this one except that it's similar to how the stars turn into a supergiant and then white dwarf once it runs out of fuel lol. Or once the rift is big enough it'll let go of the energy less chaotically. Anyway, it's just sci-fi don't think about it too deeply]

The question that had troubled me for a long time was resolved so casually. I blink my eyes, feeling a bit surreal.

MC: ...Is it really that simple?

Lucien: The essence of this issue is not as complicated as it may seem.

Lucien: But if the lady wishes for a more convoluted approach, I can certainly give it a try.

MC: No need! I trust Professor Lucien's discovery, of course~

The heavy gloom that shrouded my heart finally reveals a glimmer of hope. My tone lightens involuntarily, and with a touch of anticipation, I speak.

MC: What do we need to do next? I'll do everything I can to help~

Lucien's gaze shifts to the window, seemingly lost in thought for a moment. He changes out of his research attire and opens his mouth with a light smile.

Lucien: I do have an invitation.

Lucien: Next, let's go and see the snow.

After a simple drying process, I hold the small mochi keychain that has regained its fluffiness and whiteness. I follow Lucien down the stairs with light steps. As we step out of the Bioscience Research Institute, I blink in surprise.

Countless delicate snowflakes silently dance in the air—this year's first snow has arrived so quietly.

The snowflakes gently blanket everything around in pristine white.

I can't help but raise my hand, catching a few falling snowflakes. Lucien looks at me, and his eyes seem to soften a bit.

Lucien: You look particularly happy.

MC: Of course~ I've been looking forward to a scene like this for a very long time.

MC: This time last year, I was running around in a time loop, searching for dark matter...

MC: There was never enough time, and I never had the mood to stop and appreciate this scenery.

MC: Until spring arrived, we never had the chance to quietly watch the snow together.

He tightens his grip on my hand. Lucien seems to follow my lead, tilting his head upward, quietly gazing in the direction of the falling snow.

A few delicate snowflakes land on his eyelashes, softly melting away without a sound.

Through the warm night, I hear his gentle voice.

Lucien: (softly) Perhaps… this belated snowfall is a gift for us now.

The fine snowflakes soften the features of the person before my eyes.

As the snow gradually intensifies, pure white flakes float down from the distant sky, quietly tinting the boundless night in serenity.

Reluctant to part with such fervent snowfall, we return to the car.

Lucien casually turns on the radio, and light music immediately fills the car. Accompanied by the swirling snow outside, it feels like a scene from a crystal ball.

I rest my head on Lucien's shoulder, gently rubbing against it, unable to help but murmur with emotion.

MC: So beautiful... it's like a dream.

The sounds of the evening breeze wafting in through the window crack resembled a delicate and subtle white noise. The fatigue from staying up all night last night gradually surfaces.

The phone screen lights up for a moment, and the digital clock shows eight in the evening. I let out a gentle yawn.

MC: I can't believe I'm tired at this hour... blame it on the recent excessive overtime.

Lucien shifted, allowing me to lean more securely on him, and he spoke in a gentle tone.

Lucien: (in a very, very gentle tone) Have you been tired lately?

I nod and lazily begin counting with the fingers resting on my knee.

MC: I'm exhausted... there's a ton of tasks at work to push through, and I also need to figure out how to save the world.

MC: It either keeps me tossing and turning in insomnia or gives me a night full of nightmares.

Lucien: (gently) What kind of nightmares are you having?

I vaguely recall for a moment and make an exaggerated gesture.

MC: I've been snatched away by a dinosaur this big—

MC: And I've been flattened by this many project proposals—

MC: But you know~ After waking up, as long as I see the messages you send me, all those dinosaurs, all those project proposals, seems like nothing!

Lucien: (chuckle) Mm... I've had that kind of dream too. I wonder if the dinosaur that snatched us is the same one.

Lucien gently squeezes my hand, a hint of uncontrollable laughter in his voice.

I imagine the scene and can't help but burst into laughter as well.

Lucien: (laughs softly) Silly, next time, come knock on my door before you get snatched away by a dinosaur.

The snow outside falls gently, and Lucien speaks amidst the delicate melody.

Lucien: (murmur softly) Speaking of which, if there's a beautiful dream, would you like to stay in it with me?

MC: A beautiful dream? Is it the kind where I don't have to go to work every day?

Lucien: More beautiful than that—it's a dream where we can always be by each other's side.

MC: If there's such a thing I'm willing to dream it for eight lifetimes!

A low chuckle comes from above my head. His voice quietly melts into the night breeze, sounding like a casual sigh.

Lucien: What if I say, I hope never to wake up from this dream with you?

MC: That sounds good too. As long as I'm with you, anywhere is fine…

I blink my heavy eyelids and hear a soft laugh beside my ear. A warmth covers my eyes that I find a bit hard to open.

Lucien: (whispers gently) Get some sleep.

Lucien: I'll make sure to wake you up.

—--------------------------------------------------------

Winter seems to have truly arrived after that night's first snowfall.

With the dropping temperatures, a layer of frost forms on the branches along the river and roadsides. The news on the streets gradually shifts to reports about snow and cold prevention.

I pull my gaze away from the lengthy red light outside the car window and engage the handbrake.

The rift continues to quietly spread, casting shadows of various sizes throughout the city.

However, for some reason, the popularity of news related to the rift is steadily decreasing, and the submissions on this topic are dwindling.

Perhaps people have become completely accustomed to these rifts. Despite some lingering confusion, I do feel a sense of relief.

The green light in the middle of the road lights up, and I put away my phone. After turning a few corners, a spacious bridge suddenly appears before me.

...Strange, there were so many cars just a moment ago. How did it suddenly become so empty?

A hint of confusion creeps in as I carefully survey the surroundings, finding nothing unusual.

As I drive onto the bridge, I suddenly feel the wheels slipping. I instinctively hit the brakes, but the road in the rearview mirror shows no signs of anomalies.

Just as I fall into bewilderment, the throttle gauge on the dashboard spins violently.

The tires emit a harsh, squeaking sound as they uncontrollably move forward.

MC: What's happening...?

Before I can grasp the situation, there's a distinctly audible sound of shattering beneath the car. The next second, the car suddenly plummets.

MC: ....!

I struggle to push open the car door, but the resistance of the water turns my efforts into futility.

No matter how hard I pound and shove, the door remains steadfast. Only the icy water keeps pouring in through the window crack.

The air inside the car diminishes, and I strain to tilt my head upward, closing my eyes in a somewhat desperate attempt.

The world before me gradually fades into darkness.

Next Part-> [Here]

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