It's pouring outside even though it is my wedding. The dripping sound that the water makes is soothing to my ears.

My sisters gave me a red shawl to cover. It matches the red dress I received from my sister, the one I ran away from.

They couldn't have made another groom suit in three days that is red since my previous one is black. The groom wears black and the bride wears red.

The black here denotes formality, strength, and authority; whereas the red symbolizes formality, wealth, and ‘virginity’.

I have already shown my face to my family and my husband during the ceremony. I sit in my room until dawn when Aarthians and I leave for… Wherever.

It's kind of funny to me how we bandits created such culture and yet we refer to ourselves as bandits like how they call us.

Earlier, Trieu asked me for advice about what Nillin has asked him. It is how to know who to trust.

I wonder why Nillin asked Trieu that. It's not particularly rude, just weird. If I was in Trieu's shoes, I wouldn't know how to answer right away either.

Maybe follow a smart guy who once said, "The only way to know who to trust is to trust them."

But that's only the first step. It gives no further advice to betrayal nor idiocy. Trust is a real concern.

It's kind of like a marriage. To know if you can trust your partner, whoever that might be, is to become best friends.

I guess, whoever extends and returns friendship is the one trustworthy. I see that friendship in the form of compliments.

For example, to notice and give compliments to the new things and good things the friend has whether or not one truly thinks so…

The music that droplets of rain draws me near an open window and as I sit on a chair in front of it, I feel at ease.

I am found in the abyss.

"What are you doing?" Nillin begins taking off his wedding custom.

I startle a little, "When did you came in? I didn't hear a single crack or squeak?"

"Just now," he climbs onto the bed on the right side. That's my side!

But I bite my tongue and hug my knees as I continue to sit where I was listening to the rain and roaring thunders in between.

"You're not sleeping?" Nillin yawns and turns his back against the space available for me on the bed. It's my bed.

"I don't plan to."

"Wait. Are you planning to sneak up on me while I sleep?" I think he is laughing in his sleeps, so I ignore him.

Why would I sneak up on him? That's absurd! If I sleep, he's the one sneaking up on me!

"You know," I don't even know why he's still talking to me. "From this position and you dressing like that... You looks like this girl I met once in a brothel."

"Yeah? How many years ago was that?" I try to not sound too curious.

"Hmmmm," He sounds incredibly sleepy with that closed lips exhale. "I don't know. I think it was 10 years, 2 months and 9 days ago."

"I'm assuming you like this girl because you count days until your anniversary?"

What's happening? That's the exact same day I met my rich boy.

I ask another question for verification’s sake, “Which brothel is it?"

"Hm? Are you going to get her to be my mistress?" He laughs dryly. "Too bad, I told her to run away."

Why is the situation so similar?

"Oh, I didn't answer your question," now he sounds like he's drunk. "The brothel is called Bethany's Hope. 'Once I'm King, I won't allow prostitution'... Or at least that what I told her. Who would've guess that it'll be so hard?"

Yup. He's definitely not himself, and he is… I hate to admit this but he's my rich boy.

I'm married to my rich boy, so now what? I have no more goals or ambitions.

My rich boy turns out to be a homophobe who is disgusted by my existence. What a typical rich boy?

I want to see his face. To really make sure Nillin is my rich boy. I get up, walk to the the bed, and sit on the left side of the bed.

He still have shoes on. I guess he must be so drunk and tired, he forgot to take off his shoes even lying on the bed with his wedding clothes.

I sigh (and maybe I want to be a good wife or something) and take his shoes off for him, and place them near a leg where the footboard is.

My whole body gets on the bed as I hover above Nillin's face.

I have never really seen my rich boy's face, but I remember the touch and taste of his lips when he pushed us to a room and hide me from my mother, the mama of Bethany's Hope.

One of my hand grips the shawl together while the other slides across Nillin's pretty masculine face.

Flawless skin with beauty beyond compare. He is just as beautiful as I remember him.

I lift my hand away, feeling satisfied knowing that he is my rich boy; but he grabs my wrist unwilling to let go.

"What are you trying to do to me?" His upper body rises like a vampire. It's incredibly scary.

"Nothing. I wasn't trying to do anything to you," I look away scared and flustered. Somehow knowing that he's my rich boy excites me.

My dream person is next to me and fortunately, it's dark and the revealing of my embarrassing face is postponed.

Nillin leans in making our forehead touch and his breaths are all over my face. He's definitely drunk to no ends.

"You have such a loving family, you must’ve inherited very high morals." He's not coherent.

(Even if I want to talk this over with him once he's not like this, he’ll probably not remember.)

I turn my face away because if I look at him any longer, I'll explode.

"For me, I grew up basically alone, so I’m pretty pragmatic by nature.” I can hear the knot in his throat.

Probably due to alcohol.

"So, now that you’re mine, I won't let you go," Nillin wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me into bed with him.

We didn't calculate this through and I hit my head against the headboard of the bed.

"Ouch!"

I lower my body so that we sleep face to face. He kisses the temple of my head, "I'm sorry. I didn't meant to hurt you. Feel better?"

"I'll stay with you until you no longer want me." I reply though I am quite sure he’ll dump me for someone who can give him heirs.