The Imperial Palace looked magical.
Between the ethereal glow of the floating lanterns and the shimmering moonlight reflecting off the walkways, the ambiance was romantic enough to take one's breath away. It was the kind of setting where one would expect a soft confession or a quiet, intimate stroll.
Instead, the silence was shattered by indignant complaints and a whole lot of frantic flailing.
Ollie Mylor feared for his already-shaven-off life. He had absolutely no idea what was going on as his boyfriend strode forward with alarming confidence toward the grand hall.
"K-Kyle, wait! Where are we going?" the trembling barnacle asked, confusion written all over his face.
But the man named Kyle didn't even slow down as he answered.
"Home," he replied, his tone nonchalant, yet his pace anything but.
In truth, the word signified so many things logistically, but as usual, the blonde didn't see all the different things attached to it, but focused on what felt alarming to him.
