Thank you Heri_Riyansyah for the golden tickets, magic castles, inspiration capsules and luxury cars and in such a small amount of time. Your support is my inspiration.
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The doors closed behind him with a weight that felt intentional.
The Pope was shorter than I expected. Broad through the middle, his belly pushing against layers of gold-threaded fabric that shimmered every time he moved. Rings gleamed on his fingers. Chains rested against his chest like declarations of authority rather than devotion.
And he was scowling at me.
Not polite displeasure. Not cautious curiosity. Open irritation.
I met it without blinking.
Ice was quieter than anger. Colder. Harder to dismiss.
[Host, visual assessment complete. Threat level: politically annoying.]
He walked to the seat opposite us and lowered himself into it with a small huff, then turned to Elias with an expression that shifted instantly into practiced reverence.
"Your Highness," he said.
