With a heavy heart, she married the monster known as the king of the wasteland. It was said that four women who had dared to engage in conversation with him had all become victims of his sword. She, too, had been offered as a sacrifice to this beast. As she prepared for death on that first night, a guttural sound escaped his throat, like that of an animal. But then, something miraculous occurred. “Be quiet,” he murmured softly, “just stay still.” She could only nod in compliance as he looked up at her with hesitant eyes and leaned his head against her knee. He even nuzzled closer, turning his head left and right as if seeking a caress. Was he, the monster, asking to be petted? “Ren,” he pleaded, “Please don’t go. I can’t live without you.” His sad eyes never left hers as he tightly grasped her hand. Her wounded heart ached as the realization dawned on her—she had grown far too attached to this monster.