Volume 3 Chapter 208 The Final Greeting
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
In the spacious hall that functioned as a tavern during the day, an array of instruments—drums (bongos), castanets (spoons), flutes, tin whistles—had been neatly lined up.
Bathed in the glow of countless candles, the room took on a somewhat mystical atmosphere. Members of the Holy Squad filed in one after another, each picking up their instrument of choice, waiting for someone’s signal.
”Fooo!”
Homork III, having tossed aside his bizarre costume that only covered his chest, strode over to the barrels of alcohol arranged at the center of the hall. Several men gathered—not around the instruments—but around the barrels, joining him.
”Everyone, are you ready!?” he shouted.
”Yeah!” “Bring it on!”
The responses were mixed—some men went shirtless like Homork, others tossed aside their pants, and some, instead of undressing, wore their underwear on their heads. Kian, for the time being, went shirtless to match the mood.
”Alright! Let’s go for the countdown! Three, two, one…”
”Thank you for your hard work!”
”Fooooo!” “Good job!” “Cheers to Ramsey’s victory!” “Cheers to the hero Kian!” “Cheers! Fooooo!”
The barrels burst open, spraying beer up to the ceiling. Alcohol rained down, summoned by magic.
The members of the Holy Squad erupted in wild cheers, each picking up their instrument and beginning to play.
”Fooooo, Lord Kian, Fooooo!”
”Huh, Mr. Homork!? Aren’t you different from during the day!?” Kian called out.
”I’m not different, Fooooo!” Homork shouted back, throwing up a hand with only his thumb and pinky extended near his head, grooving to the rhythm of the bongos.
Beside him, the bare-chested Gary was chugging from two bottles simultaneously, his drinking shockingly vulgar compared to his usual demeanor. He stuck his tongue out to catch the beer, smearing it all over his face—half of it probably wasn’t even making it into his mouth.
”This is our comrade Sean O’Chinko’s tavern, Fooooo!” Homork III declared.
A man with a shaved head clacking castanets energetically approached. It was Mr. O’Chinko. As a fellow member of the Holy Squad, Kian recognized him immediately.
”Are you having fun?” O’Chinko asked, pouring beer over Kian’s head.
Kian smiled, soaked in cloudy foam. “Uh, yes…”
”This is my tavern. When there’s a celebration, I reserve it for my comrades.”
”Oh, really…?”
”This time, we won the battle thanks to Lord Kian! Now, don’t hold back—have some beer.”
”I’ll have some beer,” Kian replied, drawing straight from a sake barrel and taking a hearty gulp.
The refreshing flavor, free of bitterness, slid down his throat and settled warmly in his stomach.
”Delicious…” he murmured without thinking.
Gary, Homork III, and O’Chinko all broke into wide grins.
”Come on, let’s dance to our heart’s content tonight!”
(Beer, huh. If this were ale instead, it would be o ale… sounds like someone about to vomit.)
(T/N: Japanese often uses “o” as a prefix for politeness, so “o ale” mimics the sound of retching.)
Thinking such trivial things, Kian stepped into the circle of the Holy Squad and began to dance. O’Chinko started humming a pirate-style rowing song, and it quickly spread, turning into a 40-person chorus.
Homork dove headfirst into the sake barrel with a bizarre “Fooooo!” cry. The character of the sun was passing by.
(T/N: This likely refers to the Japanese symbol for “sun” or a poetic way of saying “the sun god’s spirit was present.”)
By that point, Kian had been swept up in the mood. He danced madly with the others, splashing sake across the floor and picking up flutes and bagpipes to join in the music. The heavy gloom he’d felt earlier seemed like a distant memory—his heart felt light, carefree.
”Delicious!? Isn’t Lord Kian amazing!? You can play instruments too?” someone shouted.
”Ahaha… I’ve been living the adventurer life for a long time,” Kian replied.
There was a time when he practiced instruments in his free time to gain favor from his party members. He had fished them out of a trash heap in the street market, repaired them, and made them playable.
In the end, he found that playing music didn’t make him popular, so he sold the instruments to a nearby general store to survive. But now, as he enjoyed this moment with everyone, he felt that experience hadn’t been wasted after all.
”Here it comes! Sean O’Chinko’s p*nis art!” someone suddenly shouted.
”What’s p*nis art?” Kian asked Gary, glancing over at Mr. O’Chinko, who had climbed on top of the empty sake barrel.
”It’s art using the p*nis… abbreviated as p*nis art, fooooo!” Gary explained gleefully.
”Thank you for the explanation, Mr. Homork,” Kian said dryly.
”Alright, let’s go, everyone!”
To the rhythm of the drums, Sean O’Chinko began to strip like a courtesan from a brothel.
(T/N: Brothel performers were known for erotic dances in historical Japanese settings.)
Kian thought to himself it was basically just a male strip show.
”First up! The Cart!”
O’Chinko grabbed his scrotum and rolled his tongue, making a “Brrrrrr” sound. It was not only obscene, it was impossible to decipher.
”Woo, nice one!” “Next, next! What’s next?”
”Next is! The Sword and Shield!”
”Wow! The balls are stretching too much!” “My sword’s bigger than yours! Hahaha!”
(What on earth am I being shown…?)
As Kian played the flute, his mind filled with question marks. He no longer had any clue what was happening—but he could say one thing for sure:
It was incredibly fun to be part of such a lively crowd.
”Come on, drink more, fooooo!”
Kian laughed as Homork splashed him.
After that, he continued drinking and dancing with the Holy Squad, his stamina seemingly endless.
Around the one-hour mark, time began to fly by unnaturally fast. The celebration only escalated in chaos and energy.
Before long, Kian had stripped completely, wearing nothing but a mug tied to his groin, shouting “fooo!” at the top of his lungs.
However, there was no kissing, no s*x. Aside from the nudity, it was a surprisingly wholesome drinking party.
”Hey, Lord Kian, fooo!”
”Thank you, Mr. Little p*nis, fooo!”
”Are you having fun, fooo?”
”Yes, thanks to you, fooo,” Kian answered. “That said, I’ll send a Knight from the administrative office later to check if this tavern has any hygiene issues. I can’t trust a tavern run by someone who does p*nis tricks.”
”Stop it, fooo!”
”Oh, it’s almost dawn,” Homork III murmured softly, lying on his back with a bottle in his mouth, pretending to do an IV drip.
”Has it really been that long?” Kian asked, glancing at the flickering candles around them.
The tall column that had seemed long when they entered was now pitifully short.
White clumps and liquid were stuck to each saucer.
”Ugh, I’ve drunk too much… I’ll open the curtains and let in some sunlight to wake up, foo,” Kian groaned.
”Oh, you look unsteady, so please sit down, foo. I’ll open the curtains,” someone offered gently.
”Lord Kian is strong with alcohol, huh? You really can do anything, foo,” Gary mumbled, performing oral on the bottle.
”Thank you, foo!” Kian replied energetically for some reason, stepping lively as he approached the eastern curtain.
”Fooo!”
He flung the curtain open.
There stood Linca, smiling.
”Hehe, foo!”
”Lord Kian? Why did you close the curtain again?” someone asked, puzzled.
”Fooo! I didn’t see anything, foo! I’ll open the southern side, foo!”
With a leap, he dashed to the southern window and threw open the curtain.
”Fooo…”
On the other side of the glass stood Priscilla, grinning.
With a loud bang, the Noon Wraith she had summoned triggered a poltergeist effect at the window, scrawling letters with spectral fingers:
If you don’t come out quickly, I’ll kill you.
”Suuuu…”
”Lord Kian?”
”I-I’ll open the western side,” he stammered.
”…? O-Okay.”
He opened the western curtain.
Natra was pressing a piece of paper against the glass. It read:
I have something to discuss. Please be serious.
Though politely written, the veins bulging on Natra’s temple betrayed her mood.
”That leaves the north. We’re not trapped yet…”
Kian’s drunken haze was starting to wear off.
He trudged to the northern window, hollow-eyed.
And just as he reached for the curtain—
CRASH!
A brown arm burst through the glass and clamped around his face in a crushing iron grip. His eyes bulged with bloodshot veins as the gorilla-like pressure made his skull crack ominously.
Behind the curtain stood Sarah, smiling serenely in a dress. Behind her, Rufna—who was supposed to be on watch at the magic fortress—held her forehead and sighed, “Oh dear…”
”Ugh… It hurts, it hurts, Ms. Sarah…”
”Hehe. Good morning, Kian. It’s a nice day today, isn’t it?” Sarah chirped.
At the north window, Linca, Priscilla, and Natra had all gathered.
Sarah hoisted Kian up through the tavern window, his head and shoulders jutting out.
”Glass! It’s dangerous, Sarah!”
”You won’t die just from a little cut on your neck, will you?”
”I will die! I will die!”
”Hey, what should we do, everyone? Should we dispose of him?” Priscilla asked sweetly.
”Ms. Priscilla!?”
”If you’re going to kill him, please leave it to me,” Linca offered calmly. “I’ll make sure he can’t do any more mischief for the rest of his life by tattooing a slave crotch mark and managing him thoroughly.”
”Lady Linca, I will take care of Sir Kian. You have no part in this,” Natra interjected coolly.
”Hey, Kian,” Priscilla smiled, “who do you want to be confined—no, managed by? Choose right here.”
”Ugh, my head is splitting!? My face is coming off!!”
”Once it splits, you should be prepared, right? Go for it, Lady Sarah,” Priscilla said cheerfully, her words horrifying.
Rufna, who had been watching from a step back, looked concerned and finally stepped in with a mild protest.
”Hey, you guys, can we tone it down? Master’s indecisive crap isn’t something that just started.”
”Rufna, that aside,” Natra said calmly, “we need to decide on the First Lady soon.”
”It’s more constructive to deepen our mutual understanding of priorities here than to engage in power struggles after entering the harem.”
(T/N: Refers to a common trope in harem stories where rival love interests vie for the top position.)
”Isn’t it fine for everyone to be equal…? Just get along, okay? We’re practically family by now.”
”We’re like sister wives♡” Linca added with an indecent grin.
”Ugh, Mr. Gary, Mr. Homork, someone… anyone, please help me…”
Kian whimpered weakly, abandoning all pride and restraint.
The members of the Holy Squad, who had been lounging in the tavern, sensed the mounting tension. Wordlessly, they began tidying up, fully dressed and silent. Naturally, no one responded to Kian’s plea.
”Traitors!!!”
”Don’t say that,” the women—except for Rufna—responded in unison.
Resigned, Kian decided to climb out the window.
”So? What are we going to do with this person?” Sarah asked, turning to Priscilla and the others as she placed a stack of silver coins by the window for the repair.
Kian, reading the room, said nothing. He simply sat quietly in a naked seiza position.
(T/N: Seiza is a formal Japanese sitting posture with the legs folded under the thighs.)
”Ideally, I’d like to give you another choice,” Linca said, adjusting her kimono, “but I don’t think Sir Kian can choose.”
”We shouldn’t let him choose again. It should be a matter of us fighting over it. That’s the only option.”
”Huh? Are we going to kill each other? Then please, no Balmung,” someone muttered.
”Killing each other is not a good idea,” Rufna said gently, lowering her brows. “Make it a fistfight without killing. That way, you’ll bleed a bit and calm down.”
”A fistfight is still pretty bad. Don’t you all have any sense of shame or public image!?”
”It’s a bit rich coming from you, Lord Kian, dressed like that.”
”How about we parade him around town for now?” Sarah suggested, pointing at Kian.
”Parade around town in this outfit? You’re joking, right?” Kian’s eyes widened.
”I don’t want to show my husband’s body to others unnecessarily,” she added.
”Then let’s just cover the private parts and make him wear something embarrassing,” someone else proposed.
”Well, if that’s the case…”
”I have no objections either.”
”Natra!?”
And so, despite his protests, Kian was dressed in a men’s small-area bra, a panty-style chastity belt, and a sign on his back written in the common Western language:
”I’m a cheater. A piece of human trash.”
Just the other day, he had paraded through the streets in splendid armor as the hero of Ramsey. Now, he was publicly humiliated in a spectacle that threatened to erase all the fame he had earned.
Fortunately, the “eyes of the lords”—the border lord envoys—had already left Ramsey by last night, except for Châtillon’s group and Eleonora. Thus, Kian’s disgraceful figure went unseen by the nobility.
When it was over, it was just about time to head to the castle for work. He was ordered to change into his steward’s uniform, leaving the chastity belt on, and made to perform his duties under constant supervision.
Natra, Sarah, Linca, and Priscilla took turns monitoring him closely throughout his workday.
That evening, after work, he was unceremoniously dragged to the outskirts of Ramsey—Azancourt—and tossed into one of the makeshift residences prepared for Maribel’s regular army.
Wrapped up tightly, he was sealed inside a room encased by a near-impenetrable barrier set up by Linca, a world-class barrier practitioner.
At least they had left a small air hole, through which he could faintly hear the sounds of the outside world.
”Alright, let’s begin the First Wife Battle now. I’ll be the judge,” Rufna declared.
”Skip the prelude. Let’s start fighting already,” Priscilla said, her voice bubbling with excitement.
”You’re confident, aren’t you?” Sarah scoffed. “With that scrawny body of yours, you won’t be able to withstand even a single punch from us.”
”Ms. Linca, that person is a dragon,” Rufna interjected calmly. “Because of the spirit blood, ‘Penetration’ won’t work easily. They might have the strongest physical strength among us.”
”Even if it’s a dragon,” Natra muttered, “Elder Sister still seems stronger in terms of arm strength.”
”Huh? What do you mean by that?” Linca asked, squinting.
”Heh,” Sarah smirked. “What do you think I mean? There’s no need for more words. Let’s speak with our fists.”
”What does the tournament bracket look like?” Linca asked, cracking her knuckles.
Rufna answered smoothly, “The first match is Milady Sarah versus Linca.”
”Tch, I’ll beat you up so badly!” Sarah snapped, then paused with a doubtful look. “Eh… are we really starting this off with a gorilla? Well, fine. I’ll behead you with one blow and show you.”
”No killing, okay?” Rufna reminded sternly.
”…Hehe. Just kidding,” Sarah said with a dangerous grin.
”You were totally serious,” Linca muttered.
”Well then,” Sarah stepped forward, “my opponent is Natra. Sorry in advance if I accidentally run you over. I won’t just limit myself to partial dragon form; I’m going all out.”
”That’s exactly what I wanted,” Natra replied, unflinching.
”I’ve said it many times,” Priscilla interrupted again, “but don’t use Balmung. If you do, I’ll use the Parasol of the Night Queen.”
”Even without that,” Sarah said smugly, “I’ll easily defeat someone like you.”
”You said it? This is going to be interesting,” Priscilla hissed. “I’ll kill you. In fact, if I kill everyone, Lord Kian will be mine.”
”Hehehe,” Sarah chuckled darkly. “What a coincidence. I was thinking the same thing, Lady Priscilla.”
”These people are dangerous…” Rufna murmured.
It looks bad. I hope no one dies, Kian thought bleakly.
One person was thrown into a pitch-black room, and Kian sat in the middle of it, dazed and tied up. In truth, no matter who won the battle, his future looked grim.
”Kian, this is turning out to be quite interesting,” came a familiar voice.
Talia!? Kian’s eyes widened. He tried to shout, but a gag muffled him completely.
He turned to his old partner with eyes full of desperation. Where have you been all this time!?
”Just out for a walk,” Talia answered nonchalantly.
You’re too late! It’s because you were late that I’m in this situation!
”I did nothing wrong. It’s your own fault.”
”Alright then,” Rufna called out, “Milady Sarah and Linca, get ready!”
”Huff, haaa… Hehehe, my arms are itching,” Sarah said, practically trembling with excitement.
”I’ve said it repeatedly, no killing, alright? You guys understand?” Rufna repeated with a sharp glare.
”You’re so persistent,” Linca said with a sigh.
”It’s fine. We understand the rules,” Sarah replied, though her tone remained less than trustworthy.
Outside, the fierce battle between the ladies was about to commence. Kian, holding his breath, watched the events unfold.
”Rufna! Hurry up and signal the start of the duel!” Priscilla shouted.
”The duel begins now!!!” Rufna announced.
”DIEEEEE, YOU SLY BITCHHHHHHH!” Sarah screamed.
”DIE, YOU FEMALE GORILLAAAAAAAAAAA!” Linca roared in return.
Boom, bang, smash──!
A tremendous explosion of sound echoed across the field. It could hardly be described as just a brawl.
”Alright, I’m charging in too!” Natra yelled.
”Then I’ll take advantage of the chaos!” Priscilla shouted.
”Hey, you guys, stop it!?” Rufna yelled. “Follow the rules of the duel!”
”Sorry, but I’m a realist,” Natra said coolly.
”Same here,” Priscilla added. “If anything, all warrior monks are terrorists.”
”Stop, whoaahhh!?”
Boom, crack, thud, smash, bang──!!
Ah, it’s already a complete mess… Kian thought with despair.
”You won’t come to a conclusion if you don’t narrow it down to one person,” Talia said, arms folded.
Even if you say that, I want to have s*x with many women, Kian thought shamelessly.
”You’re the epitome of scum. Well, I suppose a man like this is necessary to form a harem,” Talia said with a shrug.
Talia, do you have any good ideas? Help me out, he pleaded silently.
Talia gracefully bent down, her skirt swirling just in front of Kian’s face. He could feel himself getting aroused from the contact against her slender, delicate thigh.
”That’s impossible. You’ll be hard until you die,” she said matter-of-factly.
That can’t be true…
”Listen, Kian. If you keep thinking about who you want to marry or who you want to have intimate relations with, you’ll never reach a conclusion. Because you’re lewd and an unprecedentedly dishonest man.”
Certainly, with that standard, I would never reach a conclusion… They are that attractive, Kian admitted internally.
Natra, Rufna, Sarah, Linca, Priscilla, Aliona, Christy, Serena──each one was stunning. Just marrying one of them would make any man weep with joy. In fact, Kian had felt that way until just three months ago. Even that lewd bitch Esther—if she didn’t have the bad habit of sleeping around with numerous men (Kian firmly believed Esther was promiscuous)—would be highly desirable as a wife by most standards.
When he thought about who he wanted to have s*x with, the answer was all of them.
If he could marry someone, he wanted to marry all of them.
If he were to be true to a man’s desires, there could be no other conclusion.
”Then, bring in other criteria,” Talia suggested. “For example… if you could make one person a Blood Servant right now, who would it be?”
I feel like I’m choosing a wife based on practicality, which isn’t a standard I particularly like…
”Just a hypothetical. If you could make one person a Blood Servant right now, who would be good?”
……
It was a hypothetical he had never considered before.
Though he felt a slight hesitation at why Talia would bring this up now, it didn’t seem unnatural within the flow of their conversation, so Kian decided to let it slide.
That’s a difficult question…
”But if you can’t choose based on affection, then you’ll have to choose based on calculation,” Talia prompted.
Hmm… After a moment of deep thought, Kian looked up at Talia.
Linca, perhaps?
”Interesting. Why did you choose her?”
This is assuming I can only choose from the four who are currently fighting. Priscilla is out of the question given the circumstances. That leaves me to choose a Blood Servant from Sarah, Linca, or Natra…
Kian blinked and continued his thoughts.
Linca had the shortest history with him, and she seemed the least likely to listen. If he had to bind someone, it would, without a doubt, be Linca. In terms of ability, she was currently the most versatile—she could use Shikigami (T/N: spirit familiars from Onmyōdō, traditional Japanese esoteric cosmology). Moreover, her expertise in barriers and healing meshed well with his own skills.
By contrast, Natra’s capabilities overlapped with Kian’s role. She might eventually surpass even Sarah as an all-rounder, but for now, if he had to choose one Blood Servant, Natra would be the one to exclude.
”How about Lady Sarah?” he murmured aloud.
(Sarah doesn’t even need to be bound as a Blood Servant. If we sit down for a proper conversation, she’ll naturally fulfill her duties. She’s been my one and only partner since long ago.)
”Therefore… it’s Linca,” Kian decided quietly.
It had become a simple process of elimination.
”No, it’s a good choice,” Talia said with a sly smile.
Then, as if being swallowed by the ground, she vanished. She must have slipped into the Spiritual Vein (T/N: a mystical network of energy often used for travel or communication in fantasy settings) for a leisurely walk. Even though Kian was in a dire situation, she remained as heartless as ever.
”Hey, Master?”
The barrier surrounding the residence dissipated, and Rufna stepped inside. Kian broke the restraints holding him down with the raw strength of a vampire and sat up.
”What happened to everyone? The dead?” he asked.
”They’re not out yet. Well… it’s close,” Rufna replied.
She looked as if she had been in the thick of the brawl herself. Half-dragging her tired body, she pointed behind her. On the hill just beyond the residence, a massive white dragon lay collapsed. Natra, Sarah, and Linca were entwined around it, all unconscious. The entire area was splattered with Priscilla’s blood.
”That’s terrible,” Kian muttered.
”Half of it’s your fault, you know,” Rufna said, scratching her head as she helped pull him to his feet.
”Help me carry everyone to their beds. I’ll take care of Priscilla.”
The battle for the position of first wife had ended. But there had been no winner. Only blood spilled. It had been a truly fruitless clash—no one had gained anything from it.
As blood began circulating back into his limbs, Kian twitched and gave Rufna a single nod.
”I’m sorry for always causing you trouble, Rufna.”
”It’s fine,” she sighed. “Well, this should at least calm them down a little. Priscilla’s little lady should be just about ready to return to Châtillon (T/N: likely a noble household or region in this setting).”
”Yeah.”
”And as for who the first wife is… we’d best leave that topic untouched for the time being. For the sake of the whole party.”
”I understand that all too well,” Kian said softly.
With that, he finally left the confinement room and went to carry the three girls who were sprawled out across the battlefield.
* * *
Later that evening, after dinner, Kian was on his way to Owl’s room when a maid informed him that a package had arrived from Friedrich.
He had a pretty good idea of what it was. Some time ago, he had requested a combat dress for Linca, made from a special material known as spirit thread (T/N: a magical fabric that absorbs mana and regenerates when torn), using Guild funds as a reward for her help. He hadn’t expected it so soon, but apparently, the eccentric old seamstress from the Eastern town had worked at lightning speed.
Still, Kian considered returning it if the quality didn’t meet expectations. He made his way to the entrance to receive the package.
Attached to it was a note from Friedrich that read: For now, just one piece. Before you all depart.
Since just a single outfit made from spirit thread was sufficient—it regenerated on its own—Kian had decided on a color variation that suited Linca’s picky sense of style.
After a moment of hesitation, he made up his mind. He would apologize to Linca in person, bringing the newly delivered equipment as a gift.
As he walked through the halls toward Linca’s room, he passed several maids who were preparing to leave. They whispered amongst themselves as he passed—most likely about the chaos from the public incident that morning.
(It seems I’ve returned to being a ‘garbage scavenger.’ I want to disappear from here quickly…)
A wave of fatigue—or something close to it—washed down his spine. He felt awful. Still, he couldn’t relinquish the seal until he had resolved things with Aliona.
When Kian finally arrived at Linca’s door, he forced a smile onto his face and knocked gently. After a short pause, the door opened, and Linca’s cold expression peeked out.
”What do you want?” she asked flatly.
”I’m sorry to bother you when you’re tired. But I wanted to apologize for what happened.”
”Please go home,” she said without hesitation.
”W-Wait a moment.”
Kian quickly wedged his foot into the doorway and held up a beautifully wrapped Eastern-style dress.
”This. It’s your new combat dress and haori (T/N: a traditional Japanese jacket worn over a kimono). The last one got torn to shreds because I pushed you too hard, right?”
”Thank you for your kindness. I’ll pay for it, so please give me a receipt.”
”I don’t have a receipt. I asked Mr. Friedrich to send it directly.”
”…To think you’d try to win me over with material things. I’m utterly astonished. Did you mistake your master?”
”I have no words to answer that… But I need your strength. If you betray me, the party will lose its stabilizing force. Your bright presence is necessary—for the party, no… for me. So I was hoping we could talk properly again. That’s why I brought this.”
”Linca.”
Kian had expected to be sent away, but to his surprise, Linca opened the door wide and stepped aside.
”Since you’ve given me something expensive, I can’t just turn you away. I’ll at least serve you some tea. So stop standing there like a fool and come in.”
”Thank you.”
”Just so you know, I haven’t forgiven you, Sir Kian.”
”Ah, that’s fine. For now, I’m just grateful that you’ll at least pretend to be a comrade.”
With a slight nod of her chin, Linca gestured for him to come in.
Notes:
• Linca – Jibril’s favorite girl. High-ranking warrior monk woman from Shin, with strong abilities like ignoring attacks and poisons.
• Azancourt – A location mentioned by Kian when discussing his terrain survey of Ramsey’s wetlands. Likely near Ramsey.
• Serena – Wolfmen Girl
Please bookmark this series and rate ☆☆☆☆☆ on here!
Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
Leave a Reply