Forced Wedding; A Weird Freaky Love

While the Coldguards lay in love in front of their daughter and sister like idiots whose souls had been stolen by an evil spirit, Malayika hurried to drink his last glass in one go so that he could feel the effect of the drink rising in his head and spreading throughout his body to work its magic. 

Although he had decided to follow in his grandfather's and mother's footsteps, he still didn't have the right frame of mind — a challenge that many young people from wealthy families face.

He needed a good shot of alcohol or more to get him through this ceremony, or he'd lose his footing and put on a show worthy of a royal soap opera.

Oh, the shows! These people know what it's like; they just live to enjoy the sensation of other people's lives.If he were to lose his footing on such an occasion, his life would be an unprecedented hell for the next five months, and he'd have shows all the time in his life, even if he wasn't the direct author of them.He could do without them for a while.

He'd rather not add a sensational topic just for the sake of it, especially when it's just going to be used by gossipers and thrill-seeking viewers to embellish and give meaning to their own unimportant, monotonous lives. 

While he was putting the finishing touches on his outfit, with the help of his friends who never let him out of their sight, a few discreet knocks on the door jolted him from his thoughts. For a moment he opened his eyes wide like a deer caught in the light, as if he'd just realized something important. 

Reality as it was had just hit him in the face like a whip in the hands of a sadist, his life was over! there was no turning back now, the die was cast, his fate was sealed. 

His friends looked at him with the same expression before pulling themselves together, as if they were hoping for a miracle to happen at the last moment, but it didn't happen. Terce clenched his jaw so hard that Mal thought he was going to dislocate it if he didn't stop grinding his teeth, but no one said a word. 

While Terce clenches his jaw, Colin does everything he can to keep Mal in a good mood because he has to, and Mal digs his fingernails into his palm to the point of injury to keep his cool because he has to. They do everything in their power to keep their cool, but does it work?

Malayika realizes that the world is waiting for him now, and now is not the time to back down or be a wimp, but he can't help but feel trapped, a trap set for him by his own parents. 

As neither of them chose to answer the door, too absorbed in their own thoughts to pay attention to the person behind it, a firm but polite voice asked, "Young Mr. Locke, is everything all right?" 

After a short pause with no response from the inside, the voice continued in the same polite and courteous tone. "If there is any inconvenience, let me know so I can tell your mother, for it is time for you to go to the altar. " 

Terce stared at the door, as if he could make it disappear with the power of his gaze, and reached the bodyguard posted behind the door. God only knows what's going on in his head. 

Only now did they understand why Cerady Palma Locke had taken the precaution of posting a bodyguard in front of their door. 

She didn't want any surprises to spoil her day, and not to protect Mal from any danger, but rather to prevent him from fleeing at the last moment. 

Very calculating of her! Oh, congratulations, Cerady, for treating your own son like a commodity!

They should have thought of that before, but it's not too late! How stupid of them to think that she cared about her son's safety. If she cared at all, Mal wouldn't be in this situation in the first place. They are still so naive, but that's okay!

After all, what danger could there be with the ColdGuards? These people are revered like royalty and respected, almost feared, like the Russian Mafia and the Yakuza combined. 

Their ability to control those around them is nothing short of astonishing. The question remains: how do they do it? It's a mystery that may never be solved. If this isn't the Mafia, then what is?

By the time Mal and his two friends grasped the situation, it was already too late. His mother didn't come to see him after his grandfather and the tailor who was supposed to dress him left. 

She's burying her head in the sand, but how long will that last? At some point, she'll have to face him and talk to him.

The voice behind the door is not discouraged, even if she doesn't get an answer. His job is to make sure Malayika gets to the altar on time, otherwise he'll be the one to pay with his skin.

Cerady is not at all kind or patient with that sort of thing, with people who fail to deliver their work on time. She doesn't have the temperament of a gentle person, even though her whole personality screams otherwise. 

Compared to her pretty porcelain doll face, she's a poisonous viper underneath the many layers of politeness and good manners she wears in public.

"Young Mr. Locke, I'm coming in because I have to take you to the clearing where your mother and grandfather are waiting for you. So please forgive me for rushing you." 

After finishing his tirade without taking a breath, the guard reluctantly opens the door. Anyone can see that he doesn't agree with this, but what can he do? He's just a poor worker defending his family's livelihood, so doing his job well is a prerequisite.

The bodyguard crossed the threshold almost with his eyes glued to the floor, as if afraid of overstepping his bounds or witnessing something he shouldn't have. When he didn't hear a word, not even the slightest sound in the room, he became frightened. 

He lifted his head so quickly and sharply that it sounded like a crack of muscle, bone, or cartilage echoing through the room. 

When his eyes fell on the three well-dressed young men standing in the room as if waiting for him, he took a discreet deep breath, but the three of them saw the relief clearly painted on his features. 

For a moment, he feared that they might find a way to leave the room without going through the door, even though there were no windows in the room. 

Who knows, these people with their modern technology can work miracles, so what's a little escape from a room without being seen for them, hm? Escaping from the room must be child's play for them, because they've done much more than that.

Colin offered him a small, strained smile while the other two just stared at him. Mal felt a kind of phantom pain in his neck. It was an aftereffect of the noise he'd heard from the guard, but he refrained from touching his neck, wincing at the persistence of the sensation. 

And Terce, he just stood there without a trace of emotion on his face. He looked like marble, as if he was made of stone. He was mad at the whole world, but he refused to let it show on his face.

"Young Mr. Locke, I apologize for the intrusion, but would you please accompany me now?" The guard announced with some difficulty, grimacing and instinctively brought his hand to his neck.

He hadn't noticed it before, but now that the source of his stress was right there in the flesh, he felt a clear stiffness in his neck. By the time he realized what he'd done, he'd already shown his discomfort to his bosses.

He opened his eyes wide in surprise, but Mal didn't care about such things. If it were Cerady, it'd be a different matter.

At least Mal is now sure that the deafening noise he heard wasn't his imagination; the poor guy must have pulled a muscle or two.

He nodded slightly, as if to brush aside his little slip, and took a step towards the guard.The bodyguard was a rather muscular, tall guy with a handsome face, his hair cut in a strict military style, in his twenties.

"Go ahead, Terance. I'm ready."Mal's tone was direct, his gaze cold and unyielding. "Stop apologizing. You're just doing your job, and my mother likes it when you follow her orders to the letter, so it's for the best."

He patted the guard on the shoulder, a slight, deliberate movement. The guard, caught off guard, straightened up abruptly, like a soldier caught doing something wrong. Then he and the boys left the room.

They walked through the hallway with their heads somewhere in the clouds, each lost in their own thoughts, and Terance's muscular back was the only focal point guiding them out of the villa.They didn't notice the exquisite decoration that surrounded them; it's not like it could have surprised them. After all, they were in a ColdGuard compound.

However, if they were in a more attentive and joyful state of mind, they would have been delighted by the intrigue and exquisite taste of details and other unique precision worthy of the ColdGuard, as everything here is a pure delight to the eye.

The ColdGuard truly has refined and exquisite tastes. If it were another day, they could have made the remark, because it is really worth it, but today was not that day.

Elegant and handsome in his midnight blue tuxedo, Malayika looks like a prince being escorted by the royal guard, accompanied by his two friends who seem to be paying him a lot of attention and affection, which is almost understandable considering the guy looks almost like a male doll. In addition to his great beauty, he is refined to the tips of his fingers.

His friends, while also beautiful, have a different kind of beauty that only adds to Malayika's brilliance.

Slender and refined, Malayika has a figure much more graceful than a water nymph. When the Coldguard brothers called him a pretty boy in their sister's suite earlier, it was not for nothing, they knew what they were talking about.

They always have the uncanny feeling that Mal has never lifted anything heavier than his spoon, because they find him too delicate and too graceful. They, who are used to using their bodies and lifting heavy things, can't help but wonder when they see him.

You only have to look at their well-defined and rippling muscles to understand their dilemma. 

In that midnight-blue tuxedo that fits Mal like a glove, his hair tied in a bun without a single rebellious strand to detract from the magnitude of his beauty, not a trace of mustache or beard in sight, he is exposed to scrutiny and judgment. The man is a masterpiece in every way.

He seems much more fragile and delicate than you'd think, but that's part of his appeal. He's a deadly beauty in all his grandeur, and with his emotionless face, he's a bit mysterious.

He has all the trappings of a spoiled and pampered child beyond the pale, a child who can throw a tantrum just because his favorite pair of socks are a little loose with time, but he is much more than that, though no one would know it unless they were a close member of his family.

Though slender and lean, he is also muscular, just not the type to develop big muscles like his friend Terce. He likes to clean his room without the help of the maids, so his rather thin and elegant hands know not only how to lift a spoon to his mouth, but also how to do other things.

He puts his hand in his pocket and lifts his head defiantly, his determination clear in his eyes. They want him to get married, so he'll get married, but he doesn't want anyone to complain about it later.