It was June third and Inga's birthday. But unlike most people who get a party, cake, or happiness, for the past 21 years Inga received no definitive form of celebration. Not because the queen of Khura'in disapproved of them, but rather she wanted her husband to conserve his energy for later that evening, for that is when he'd have the 'honor' of being sexually graced by her, something that the Minster of Justice wouldn't wish upon his most despised enemy. Not even Dhurke, leader of the Defiant Dragons and the everlasting thorn in his side, deserved such a horrid fate.

The events of Ga'ran's 'intimate' night with her husband would proceed as such: Inga, tired from an exhausting day of completing his duties as Minister of Justice, would enter his dark private quarters and turn on the light, only to see Ga'ran, dressed in her prosecutor's outfit and brandishing her paddle, waiting on his bed, flashing him a sinister 'come hither' stare. Knowing what is about to go down, Inga would try to run for the exit in a pitiful attempt to escape this horrible fate, only for several members of the royal guard to block the exit while repeatedly chanting, "Pleasure him, Ga'ran!" The sadistic queen would then proceed to chase Inga around the room until he was cornered and tackle him down to the ground, where, like the infamous scene from Deliverance, Ga'ran would jump on his back, slapping and commanding him to give her a ride, making the dehumanized minister squeal like a piggy as she 'pleased' him with a strap-on. Then, once satisfied, Ga'ran and her guards would leave the room as Inga lay on the floor in a fetal position, crying at the death of his manhood once more.

So how did Inga, the mighty Minister of Justice who had bought down many a fearsome rebel, decide to deal with this issue? Why, the only way any man in his situation would: by locking himself in his private quarters and doing his work for the day there so that his wife couldn't get the jump on him.

And that was how Inga ended up spending his 40th birthday trapped in his private chambers, like a bird in a cage, stamping execution papers at his desk. Though on the bright side, to Inga this was one of the best parts of his career because he would visualize that he was hitting Ga'ran's face.

"That's for never approving of my friends!" Inga yelled, stamping a paper before shoving it into his 'completed' pile. "That's for making me have a freakin' vegetable of the week!" The Minister of Justice complained as he stamped the next form and got another one ready. "And this is for always making me your damn man-bitch on my birthday and high holidays! What, I'm not allowed to be happy in our relationship!? Why did that bastard Dhurke luck out and get the hot sister who actually put out while I was stuck with the one with a wizard's sleeve as cold as her personality?" Inga bemoaned as pounded his fist on his desk.

Suddenly, his body stiffened as he was snapped out of his self-loathing by a few light taps against his door.

"Help me, Holy Mother; Ga'ran's starting early this year. But let's see how frisky she's feeling after she meets my new friend here…" Inga sneered as he pulled out his newly-purchased four-shot revolver.

Inga quietly got up from his chair and snuck over to the door, creeping on his tippy toes in a style similar to that of the Grinch in order to keep the element of surprise on his side. Once there, the Minister of Justice paused for a few seconds to ponder his next course of action, his fingers fidgeting in anticipation.

Would he kill Ga'ran? Of course he would! Inga killing Ga'ran was as matter-of-fact as someone wanting to buy a house. But like with buying a home, the main issues that Inga faced were choosing from his options and doing so at the right time.

Given all of the resources available to him, Inga's first choice would be good, ol' fashion poison- quick, clean, and virtually untraceable if executed properly. But in a prime situation like this, the Minister of Justice would be a fool not to shoot Ga'ran on the spot. Granted, she would usually have her loudmouthed royal guard with her for her Inga birthday ambush, but that was during the evening. This, on the other hand, was during the early afternoon- a time of day when Inga was spryer and therefore more amusing for Ga'ran to overpower on her own. So if Inga were to unload four bullets into the little, black vat of acid where his wife's heart was supposed to be, there would be no witnesses to the crime. And on the off chance that things started to go south, the Minister of Justice could simply pin the blame on Dhurke and his Defiant Dragons; because in the great nation of Khura'in, it didn't matter what crime you did- jaywalking, arson, mass murder- if you could link it to the Defiant Dragons, you were in the clear.

But then again, it was still Inga's birthday. Ga'ran could have some political hoopla later that evening and had to push her 'fun' little tradition to an earlier time. Therefore, Inga could very well see an army of ridiculous-looking purple-cladded men standing behind the Ga'ran Reaper the moment he opened that door. So if Inga shot Ga'ran, they'd rush and beat the snot out of him before he could get two words in. Not to mention, if Inga killed Ga'ran, then he'd have to go through the effort of offing Amara, who at that point would only serve as a thorn in his side.

But these concerns quickly vanished from Inga's mind as he remembered how much of a bitch Amara was towards him in her Nayna persona and how almost any form of abuse was better than a night of 'passion' with Ga'ran as he flung open the door and pointed his gun out.

"Happy birthday to- Rayfa…?" A look of guilt spread across Inga's face as he saw eight year-old Rayfa, who was holding a flower and an envelope, trembling, prompting him to quickly put his gun away.

"Father, why were you aiming a gun at me?" Rayfa asked, keeping her gaze to the ground to avoid the risk of potentially aggravating her formerly-armed father. "Did I do something to anger you?"

"No, Rayfa. It's just that my birthday's kinda… risky." Inga said as he nervously scratched the back of his neck. "Lots of people out there that would love nothing more than to give me death as a birthday gift. So when I hear a knock at my door on this day, I've got to prepare myself for a little visit from Dhurke or one of his goons."

"Well, can I come inside?" Rayfa sweetly asked. "I have some presents that I want to give you."

A large grin spread across Inga's face. "Well, aren't I the luckiest man alive! Come on in!" The Minister stepped aside, allowing Rayfa to enter before closing the door behind her.

"So, what presents did you get me?"

"Well, I got you this flower…"

Rayfa handed Inga a black rose, which the mister looked at with apprehension in his eyes.

"Uh, isn't this one of the flowers that you mother keeps in her bedroom?" Inga asked, holding it an arm's length away as if it was poison.

"I know that Mother doesn't like it when people enter her bedroom, but I've always thought that those roses that she keeps on her windowsill are sooo beautiful and the only flower worthy of my father's gaze."

"Well, who am I to argue…" Inga put the flower in his suit's front pocket. "Thanks for the gift, Rayfa!"

"Save your thanks until after I'm done, for I still have three wonderful gifts left for you!" Rayfa chirped. "Here's the next one!" The Princess handed Inga the envelope, which he opened and read the letter inside out loud.

"'Dear Father, I wanted to wish you a happy birthday. You're always so kind, and I love you very much. I hope you live to be a hundred years old! Love, Rayfa.' Aw! How kind of you...!" Inga said as he slipped the letter into his pocket.

"Well, I meant every word of it because you're the best father in the whole wide world! You tuck me in at night, you listen to all my problems and worries, and you squish all the big, scary bugs that make their way into my private quarters!" Rayfa counted off Inga's good deeds on her fingers before tackling into him for a big hug. "I love you, Father!"

"And I you, Rayfa." Inga said as he stroked the back of his daughter's head.

"Ready for your next gift?" Rayfa asked with an excited grin on her face.

"Yeah, but you already gave me the flower and the letter, so what else have you got?"

"Well, you know how you're always complaining about how you've always got to be careful of dangerous people? Well, this next present will help keep you safe every hour of every day!" Rayfa boasted as she put her hands to her hips.

Oh my Holy Mother, if Rayfa's gift is what I think it is and she killed Ga'ran and Dhurke, then I'm dedicating a high holiday to her and giving her a pony! "So, what's this miracle gift that you're giving me?

"Tada!" Rayfa bellowed as she pulled out her third gift from behind her back, causing Inga's eyes to bug out upon seeing an item that he was well-acquainted with: Ga'ran's large, purple strap-on!

"Wha... What the heck!" Inga yelled as he quickly took a step back, only for Rayfa to move towards him.

"It's a nightstick, Father! I saw it out of the corner of my eye in Mother's room when I was getting your flower. It may not look like much, but I found it in a box in her closet that contained other items of self-defense- handcuffs, a riding crop, a can of bear spray- and figured that if it's good enough to defend the queen of Khura'in, then no one criminal would ever want to touch you! So, what do you think? Best gift ever, right?" Rayfa boasted.

Oh, no one will want to touch me if I have this thing, but not for the reasons you're thinking of…! "No! That thing is pure evil!" Inga roared as he swatted the infamous strap-on out of his daughter's hands, sending it flying and bending upon hitting the wall.

"I don't get it, Father. What's so evil about a nightstick?" Rayfa asked as she picked up the 'gift'. "Is it because it's a girly color?"

"No, that's not it! Do you have any idea what it is!?" Inga hissed as Rayfa approached him with the adult toy, which now resembled a boomerang- fitting, considering that it would always come back to bite Inga in the ass every year.

"Like I keep telling you, Father, it's a nightstick!" Rayfa huffed, clearly getting irritated Inga's unexplained rage. "Why? Is there something that you're not telling me?"

Inga flinched as he realized just what kind of hole he dug himself.

"Yeah, Rayfa, that's um…" Inga stroked his beard as he tried to come up with an excuse that would keep his daughter's innocence intact. "Your mother's scepter of evil! Yeah, that's it, scepter of evil."

Rayfa cocked her head. "Scepter of evil…?"

"Yeah, Ga'ran uses it to make life miserable for all those who dare defy her. It's why there are no sugary cereals on the palace grounds…"

"No…"

"Or how bugs of all kinds find their way into your bathroom no matter how careful you are…"

"No…!"

"And let's not forget how it's the reason why ten minutes of 30 minute t.v. shows are commercials and why they always happen right before the climax or some major plot twist!"

"NO!" Rayfa screeched as she threw the strap-on to the floor. "We must dispose of this great evil before it can hurt anyone else, posthaste!"

"Good plan, Rayfa, you take that scepter of evil and hide it far, far away where no one will ever, EVER find in, see!?"

"Yes, Father!" Rayfa ran towards the lewd item, but before picking it up, returned to Inga.

"What?" Inga asked.

"Before I go, maybe I could make you feel better with my fourth and final gift…"

And just what will that entail? Giving me the rubber glove Ga'ran uses when she wants to roleplay as a proctologist? Inga thought to himself as he rolled his eyes.

"I know what you're thinking, Father, but don't worry. This next present will be the best one yet!" Rayfa chirped.

"If you say so…" Inga responded with an evident tone of hesitation.

"But first things first, you're going to need to take a seat."

"Why?"

"Just trust me, Father. You'll understand once you get nice and comfortable in your chair." Rayfa stated as she gestured to the large-backed leather office seat next to Inga's desk, to which the Minister complied with and sat down.

"Ok, so what's your final gift?"

"Why, only the most luxurious, relaxing, and exclusive treatment in all of Khura'in, available only to the nicest, handsomest fathers to ever live: my famous super-duper Rayfa shoulder rub!" Rayfa proclaimed with a proud smile as she put her hands to her hips.

"I don't know, Rayfa... I-"

Inga was interrupted by Rayfa shushing him as she put her little hands on his shoulders.

"No more talking, Father. Just sit back and relax as all your worries flow from your body, like water from a spring, as you are tended to by the caring, calculated hands of a direct descendant of the Holy Mother..."

Rayfa proceeded to gently massage Inga, her thumbs moving in slow, concentric circles on the Minister's shoulder blades as her hands rubbed the area right in front of his shoulders. At first, Inga's body was stiff, knowing that this was his life and that this massage, like virtually 99 percent of all things that happened to him, would most likely backfire in some way, shape, or form. But as seconds turned to minutes, Inga, seeing as how nothing had went awry, let his body relax, much to Rayfa's joy.

"So Father, are you enjoying this present?"

"Yeah, Rayfa. Like oil on the gears..." Inga sighed with contentment.

"In that case, can you please move up in your seat? I couldn't help but notice that you carry a lot of weight in your back and figure that a good rub there would only serve to enhance the experience."

"Yeah, yeah… knock yourself out..." Inga sighed again as he scooted forward, allowing Rayfa to move her graceful hands down her father's back.

"What did I tell you, Father? Doesn't this back rub sooth your weary soul?"

"Yeah, I'm feeling-"

Inga stopped midsentence as his entire body went limp from the neck down, causing him to slump back in his chair.

Paralyzed…! I can't move my legs! Inga internally screamed.

"Father, I can't rub your back if you're sitting like that. Please sit up so that I may continue."

"Sorry, Rayfa, can't do it." Inga curtly stated.

"And why not? I'll have you know that I went through a lot of effort to have my day cleared so that I could give you your gifts." Rayfa pouted.

"Well, you did such a bang-up job rubbing me down that I'm as loose as a noodle. Now if you'll excuse me, I need some time alone to enjoy my newfound limberness." Inga said through strained teeth, trying his best to contain the overwhelming amount of pain that coursing through his body.

"Are you sure, Father? Because if I didn't know any better, I'd say that you were in a great deal of agony." Rayfa stated with a look of concern on her face.

"Trust me, Rayfa, I'm fine. Just leave me be while you go out and hide that scepter of evil, see?"

"If you say so, Father…" Rayfa reluctantly said as she picked up the strap-on and left Inga's private quarters.

"Rayfa's gone. Now to take out my cellphone and… Oh right… Ok, no problem, no problem… I just have to shake my cellphone out of my shirt pocket and into my lap using my teeth. I never thought that I'd be saying this, but Ga'ran's violent, kinky bedroom fetishes may actually save my ass."

Straining his neck, Inga bit onto his shirt's pocket and shook it until is cellphone fell out, but instead of it falling into his lap like the Minister of Justice planned, it landed on the floor right in front of his chair.

"… And once more, I learn that anything that's good for Ga'ran is bad for me! Now I've got to find some way to get on the floor. Think, Inga, think. You've gotten out of worse messes than this…"

For a few moments, Inga sat in silence as he tried to think of an idea to get himself out of this mess, his eyes livening up upon the task being completed.

"I know! I'll just simply thrust my head forward as hard as I can and pull myself to the ground! Man, I'm a genius!" Inga smirked.

Not wasting any time, Inga reared his head back, only to immediately lower it as fast and hard as he could, visualizing that he was head-butting Ga'ran, resulting in him screaming in pain as he fell onto the floor in front of his cellphone.

"Owowow! My neck…!" Inga moaned. "Ok, I'm on the floor. Now all that's left is to call up the secret police and I'm home free!"

Using his nose, Inga flipped open his phone and dialed up the number to the Ministry of Justice.

"Minister Inga, please state the purpose of your call." A stern-sounding voice stated.

"Code Birthday Boy! I repeat, Code Birthday Boy! And hurry, I don't have much time!" Inga yelled.

"Right, sir. I'm sending officers to your position as we speak."

About ten minutes later, two members of Inga's secret police- one an obvious veteran of the Force, with a toned, chiseled body and a stoic, unfeeling face that were the products of many ears of service to the Minister of Justice; the other, a young, rail-thin man whose body was shaking so violently that it could be used in a massage chair- arrived outside his private quarters.

"M-Mr. Neede…?" The young officer nervously asked as he lightly tapped his coworker's shoulder.

"Yeah, Ooute?"

"W-What's Code Birthday Boy? Does it have to do with the Defiant Dragons? Will we have to fight them? Oh, Holy Mother…! Is Dhurke going to be there!? Is… Is he going to try to punch our throats!? Because I don't to get punched in-"

"Get a hold of yourself, Free'aka." The older officer said after giving his coworker a swift slap upside the head.

"S-S-Sorry, sir, b-b-but it's my first job in the secret police and I'm scared!" Free'aka whimpered, prompting the other officer to grab his shoulders in an attempt to contain him.

"Look, Ooute, I know how you feel. Believe it or not, there was a time when I was a young rookie, fresh from the academy and more jumpy than a bag of springs."

"Y-You were…?" The younger officer asked with a look of shock in his eyes.

"Of course! You'd have to be a freakin' psycho not to be scared out of your wits while on duty. This is a terrifying job- dealing with killers, fighting terrorists, the horrifying X-rated training videos…"

"B-But how can you be scared? You're never afraid!"

"Look, kid, just because I don't show fear doesn't mean that I don't have it. When I get up in the morning, I just say to myself, 'Reesig, you may be scared of what today might bring, but you've just got to put it off to the side- not for yourself, but for Khura'in.'"

"I know, and that's why I wanted to join the secret police, but it's just… well, after all the prep work and drills, I feel that one wrong move and BAM- a one-way ticket to the Twilight Realm for me!"

Reesig loosened up and put an arm around Free'aka's shoulder. "Ooute, we're members of the secret police- the crème of the crop personally handpicked by Minister Inga himself. Now, do you trust Minister Inga's judgement?"

"Of course! He's a great leader and a brilliant man!"

"In that case, why would Minister Inga allow you into the secret police if he didn't think you were capable?"

"You know, Mr. Neede, you're right!" Free'aka proclaimed, finding his inner courage. "So what's the job?"

"That's the spirit, kid. Basically, Code Birthday Boy falls under the Ga'ran Protection Protocols and lies somewhere between Code Freaky Friday and Code Mason Jar."

"Oh, so we're not fight off Defiant Dragons..." Free'aka breathed a sigh of relief. "That's a massive weight off my shoulders!"

"Don't go writing off this job just yet, kid. Trust me, I've seen my fair share of Code Birthday Boys and they make the Defiant Dragons look like little kittens by comparison."

"W-What do you mean? Just what kind of horrors are in that building!?"

Neede let out a wry chuckle. "You'll see soon enough, Ooute. Just be prepared for blood, tears, and the sight of our Minister on the brink of psychological collapse."

When Neede opened the door, the two officers were greeted to the sight of Inga passed out, lying facedown on the floor. But while Reesig was able to keep his calm and get an idea of the situation, the same couldn't be said for Free'aka.

"Nooo! Minister Inga! We were too late!" The young officer yelled as he rushed over to and kneeled beside his fallen superior.

"Ooute…"

"WHHHYYY…!? Whywhywhywhywhy…! Why must the good dye so young!?"

"Ooute…!"

"Look at him- cut down in his prime! Don't worry, Minister Inga, I won't let the Twilight Realm claim you so easily!" Free'aka rolled Inga over on his back and proceeded to punch the Minister's chest with all the strength he could muster. "Live! Live, Holy Mother-dammit! Live!"

"OOUTE!" Reesig snapped, causing Free'aka to stop what he was doing. "Judging from the lack of tears and a makeshift noose constructed out of execution papers, this isn't a Code Birthday Boy."

"Then what is it!?" The young officer screeched.

"I don't know, but our Minister of Justice could be dead and it won't help the investigation process if you cause further harm to his body. Now just calm down while I call for an ambulance and the boys in Forensics."

"No, I'm not giving up on the Minister! Live!" Free'aka slammed his fist on Inga's chest once more, causing the Minister of Justice's eyes to burst open as he screamed out in pain.

"Minister Inga! You're alive!" The young officer rejoiced as he squeezed Inga's limp body in a hug, causing him to scream out in pain once again.

"Get off of me, Ooute!" Inga snapped, prompting Free'aka to apologize before carefully placing Inga back on the floor.

"Minister Inga, what happened here? This is completely uncharacteristic of a Code Birthday Boy." Reesig asked.

"Well, I ain't got a code for Rayfa paralyzing me with a backrub, so this was the next-best option."

"But why did you call us, sir? Wouldn't it have been easier to get Abbot Inmee to come here?"

"And risk him running into Rayfa and breaking her little heart over what she inadvertently did? Not on my watch! That, and if Ga'ran found out that I was injured, it would only serve to make my night worse. She has a fetish for the injured, see?"

"S-So what do you want us to do, s-sir?" Free'aka stuttered.

"Easy. I want you two to get a stretcher, load me on it, and take me on down to Abbot Inmee's house."

"But… but what if someone asks us why we're carrying you on a stretcher? They'll know what happened and your plan will be doomed!" Free'aka wailed.

"Not if we act like rugs and lie, see?" Inga stated.

The young officer, in a state of total shock, gasped and put a hand to his mouth. "LIE!?"

"Did I stutter? Now get me a stretcher a.s.a.p.! My back ain't getting any better just laying here!"

"Consider it done, Minister Inga." Reesig replied as he and Free'aka saluted their superior.

As the two officers left the building, Inga passed out once more.

When Inga regained consciousness, he was being carried through the royal residence on one of the secret police's stretchers as the sound of Free'aka's nervous muttering filled the air.

"Oh Holy Mother… Holy Mother… We're the secret police. If people can't trust us then who can they trust? Society will slip through the cracks, fire will rain from the sky, people will start wearing blue jeans… Khura'in will fall into anarchy! Anarchy, I say!"

"Poor, poor Ooute… So young, so naïve… You have no idea what being part of the secret police entails." Inga sneered.

"That's what I kept trying to tell him, sir." Reesig chimed in.

Suddenly, the two officers were stopped in their tracks by Rayfa approaching them.

"Oh no! It's Her Benevolence! We're doomed! DO- ow!" Free'aka screamed in pain as Reesig stomped on his foot.

"What Officer Ooute meant to say, Your Benevolence, was that we wish you a nice day."

"Thank you, Officer. But why are you two carrying my father on a stretcher? Is he hurt?" Rayfa asked with a look of concern.

"Don't worry about me, Rayfa. Being carried on a stretcher is how all the influential figures in the West get around, so I'm trying to give Khura'in a good name by following suit." Inga stated.

"Oh, ok. I was just worried about you, Father, because if something were to happen to you, I don't know what I'd do…" Rayfa whimpered as tears started to well up in her eyes.

"Listen, Rayfa, you're too young to worry about that kind of stuff. But if you wanna help out your old man, go enjoy your day off and do whatever it is you do in your free time."

"If it'll help you out, I'll be more than happy to oblige!" Rayfa excitedly stated before running towards the palace.

"Alright, ughh…" Inga grunted in pain. "She's gone. Now get me to Inmee as fat as your legs can take…" The Minister tried to order before passing out yet again.

When Inga regained consciousness this time, he found himself on a massage table in Tahrust Inmee's house.

"Ugh… Where… Where am I...?" Inga groggily asked, rubbing his sore temple with the palm of his hand. "Wait a minute! My arm… my hand… I can move it again!" The Minister of Justice rejoiced.

"Ah, good to see that you are awake." Tahrust said as he entered the room. "As for your previous question, you have been in my house, where I have been treating your back for the past half-hour. Speaking of which, how exactly did you injure it?"

"Why? You gonna mock me? Tell me how I need to do more yoga or eat more kale or some other form of treatment that I'll hate?" Inga growled.

Tahrust gently clasped his hands together. "Her Holiness does not judge, and neither shall I. I only ask because your back was the worst case that I have seen in my many years as a priest and healer."

"It can't be that bad. All that happened was Rayfa gave me a back rub."

"Well, it is that bad, Minister Inga. Have you heard the old saying, 'it only takes a breeze to start an avalanche'?"

"Yeah, so?" Inga asked as he cocked his head in confusion.

"Consider this metaphor, Minister: your back is a mountain, your stress is snow, and this spot right here," Tahrust pointed to a spot on Inga's upper back, "is the peak. As snow falls day after day, month after month, year after year, it piles up higher and higher on the peak, becoming ever more unstable after each passing storm. Now we introduce Her Benevolence, the breeze, into the picture. When-"

"Hey! My daughter ain't some measly little breeze! Rayfa's elegant, bold, and powerful- if she's any kind of wind, she's a powerful storm at the very least, see!" Inga objected.

"KAAAAAAAH! It is a metaphor, Minister Inga! See forest through the trees, only then can you reach enlightenment with the aid of Her Holiness!" Tahrust bellowed at the top of his lungs.

"Sorry, sorry…"

"As I was saying, when Her Benevolence massaged your back, she inadvertently shifted your body's energy flow in a fashion that unleashed your stress and caused it to violently spread throughout your entire back. And like how a fearsome avalanche can bury many a village in snow, your stress had fatally damaged the nerves in your back."

Tahrust let out a long sigh before continuing his talk. "I'm sorry, Minister Inga, I have done all in my power to help you, but the damage done is far too great to fully heal. So while you will not lose muscle control, you will have spontaneous bouts of severe back pain."

"Well, isn't there something you can do to help me? You're a high priest. Can't you do some weird yoga poses and make a deal with the Holy Mother to heal me in exchange for a goat or an apple or whatever the hell She likes?" Inga asked with a tone of irritation.

"Minister Inga, this is the Holy Mother we are talking about, not some wish-granting genie. You can't just 'make a deal' with Her." Tahrust sternly answered.

"But it was Her descendants that brought on my back pain and gave me the stress that was the underlying cause. She owes me!" Inga pouted.

"I am going to assume that your statements just now were the situation talking… Now, there are a few things that I can do to help ease the pain."

Tahrust handed Inga a picture of his back with certain spots circled in red marker.

"The circled areas indicate your main pressure points. If you rub them when your back starts to act up, the pain should end almost instantaneously..."

Tahrust then proceeded to go over to a medicine cabinet where, after searching through it for a few brief moments, returned to Inga with a syringe and a vial of clear-colored liquid.

"However, in the event that soothing those pressure points fails to help you relieve the pain, inject three milliliters of this solution into your back. And if you ever run out, please do not hesitate to ask me for more." The high priest instructed as he handed the vial and syringe to Inga. After which, the Minister of Justice left Tahrust's home without saying another word.

Later that evening, Inga sat on his bed, contemplating the events that transpired that day as he held Rayfa's letter in his hands, rereading it over and over again as if it was a sacred text describing the secrets of life and immortality.

"I'm not angry with you, Rayfa. You were only trying to give your dear ol' dad a happy birthday- nothing wrong with that. And while today may have stripped away my health, much like how Ga'ran stripped away my dignity long ago, I gained something more valuable: a physical reminder of how much my little girl cares about me."

Inga got up from his bed and opened up his hidden safe.

"Can't let Ga'ran snuff out this little bit of happiness, so into the safe you go!" Inga said, putting the letter in the safe before closing it and returning to his bed where tucked himself in and started to drift off to sleep.

However, before Inga could truly fall asleep, he was jolted awake by the sound of Ga'ran, who was wearing her old prosecutor outfit, bursting into his private quarters.

"INGA!" Ga'ran yelled, her face red as she glared daggers at her quivering husband. "How DARE you so blatantly defy me, the woman who can end lives on a mere whim!"

Like I'd be so lucky… "I don't know what you're talking about, Queen Crazy! I just wanna get some sleep!"

"Such insolence!" Ga'ran shouted as she stomped over to the Minister of Justice's bed. "I know what you did today!"

"Like I said before, I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Strange, because the act perfectly resembles you- displeasing your wife and has to do with something sad and pitiful like THIS!" Ga'ran yelled as she held up her bent strap-on.

Holy crap, the bad boomerang returned! Inga internally screamed as his eyes bugged out.

"That's right, Inga, much like your life, your little plan to stop your birthday pleasuring was one massive failure." Ga'ran sneered. "A little tip for next time- if you're going to hide something from me, don't put it in an abandoned defendant's lobby."

Dammit Rayfa, when I said to hide it where no one would ever find it, I mean throwing it off Mt. Poniponi or something like that, not putting it somewhere Ga'ran frequents to get all hot in the loins!

"But don't worry, Inga. Even though I lack my normal toy for this evening, I can still give you your present the good, old fashion way…" Ga'ran purred, flashing the Minister a sultry grin as she brandished her paddle.

"No! No! No…!" Inga screamed in terror, pressing his back against his bed's headboard as he pulled out his cellphone and started dialing the number for his secret police.

"There is no escape, Inga!" Ga'ran cackled before pouncing on him like a lion on an antelope, causing the proud Minister of Justice to drop his phone as he cried about the pain in his back.