If only the waffles on her oval plate could whimper, it has long gone whining for her fork’s delicate touch.

Rozelyn can no longer manage to eat properly.

How could she when Cyrill kept on staring at her?

Or is he peering at her pristine rounded breasts?

Well, this was her plan anyway—to encaged Cyrill’s gaze within her figure only.

But now, she seems uncomfortable and agonizing.

‘For hell’s sake, what the hell is going on with me!’

Rozelyn’s internal screaming was bouncing at the walls of her mind.

Since the moment she opened her eyes this morning, her entire self was already surging with frenziness and venereal madness.

Hemera...