I remember the story of a novel I had read in my previous life just before my marriage. If you don’t mess up the wedding, you’ll be poisoned by your husband! So I kissed the pastor who was in charge of the ceremony.
“Commander, are you alright?” shouted one of the holy knights as he approached the pastor who was kissed.
Wait … are you the commander of the Holy Knights?
Rurutia, who was about to die, wanted to spend her last moment in a temple where she felt at ease the most. She started a business with her friends for the temple, and it was a big hit.
“Miss, you have the world in the palm of your hands!”
“Are you a God who has descended to Earth?”
In the midst of being embarrassed by the large crown, the commander of the holy knights himself was also acting strange.
“All I wish for is to be your husband,” he said, his eyes shining with obsession. “Take responsibility for stealing my first kiss.”
This is all so wrong.
It seems that I changed my future.