"CRY!" Alaric shouted, shoving you down onto the ground as you spilled golden tears out of your eyes.

Stella-Aurumolacria. The person with such diseases are to cry gold tears shaped of stars. You were one of the few, and recently, you've been kidnapped.

"You haven't produce 500 grams of gold yet! This'll end once I get the amount I want." He hissed, staring down at your nimble and frail figure begging him to stop.