As he spoke, Isri reached inside and fastened the buttons on Cesil's chest one by one.
His young master is so adorable. Even after all this, his body hasn't reacted. He's almost reluctant to lay a hand on someone so pure.
The prey should be savored slowly, shouldn't it?
The effects of the drug were still ongoing, and Isri did not remove Sehir from his arm. As they were about to leave the forest, Sehir seemed to faintly hear a few cries for help.
“Did you hear anything?” Sehir turned to ask Isri.
Isri’s voice was calm, his gaze seemingly fixed on the depths of the forest: “Young master, you may have misheard. There was no sound.”
—
In the distance, Ling Ge, stripped naked and tied to a tree, had cotton gags stuffed in his mouth and was constantly roaring, though a few curses could be heard if you listened closely.
Sehir, who had returned to the amusement park, managed to hide in a corner and endure the entire afternoon.
The Queen had just been rejected by him, and if he were to ask to leave early now, he would not only lose his position, but might even lose his life.
Sehir was sitting in a position where his line of sight was directly on Isri, whose seemingly gloating expression infuriated Sehir, so he turned his head away and stopped looking at Isri.
The location wasn't very conspicuous, but a group of wandering ladies spotted Cecil and gathered around her to greet her.
Sehir nodded simply in response. The ladies almost surrounded Sehir, each secretly wanting to stand in the most conspicuous position.
"Your Grace, how many servants did you bring today?" a young lady asked.
These nobles loved to make fun of those who were inferior to them in private.
"What kind of question is that? With the Duke's status, he must have brought at least five people with him!" someone nearby chimed in.
As they spoke, their gazes strangely fell on Sehir, waiting for his reply.
Sesil felt uncomfortable being stared at, but he still patiently opened his mouth and said, "One."
The two noble ladies gasped as if they had heard some earth-shattering news, staring at Cecil in astonishment.
"One! Your Grace, how can you bring one! It's so dangerous!" a young lady exclaimed.
"Yes, Your Grace, you..."
Before the young lady could finish speaking, Cecil stood up and interrupted her: "Excuse me, miss, I have to go."
Cecil threw down those words and hurriedly walked out through the crowd. The Queen had already left, so there was no point in him staying.
Isri had prepared a carriage at the door early in the morning, waiting for Sehir. Once Sehir was in the carriage, Isri once again curled his lips into a teasing smile and asked, "Is the young master awake?"
Suddenly, the image of his ridiculous appearance in the woods flashed through his mind. Ceshir glared at Isri, then turned away from him.
Halfway there, a light snow began to fall. As Sehir looked out the window and passed the woods on his way home, an evil idea popped into his head.
Isri brought the carriage to a steady stop at the door. As Ceshir got out of the carriage and was about to follow him into the house, he was stopped at the door by Ceshir.
“You stand at the door. You can only come in when I give the order!” Ceshir said defiantly, but in his heart he was retaliating against Isri’s behavior towards him.
Islam paused for a second, then bowed and said, "I understand, young master."
"Not asking why?" Sehir was somewhat puzzled.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Isri curled his lips into a smile: "I dare not disobey the young master's orders."
Sehir looked at Isri, who had lowered his head, a hint of mockery flashing in his eyes. "Dare not disobey? How dare you say that."
Ceshir didn't reply, turned around, closed the door, and went inside, leaving Isri standing alone outside.
It was already half dark outside, and the light snow had turned into a slightly heavier snowfall. Yisli stood straight outside the door, facing the door, and within seconds, snow fell on his shoulders.
Sehir glanced at Isri from the second-floor window, a smug look rising in his eyes, but he told himself that this simple punishment would suffice, and Isri would be brought in later.
Sehir hung his coat on the hanger, snuggled into the blankets to warm up for a while, and then picked up the book on the bedside table and started flipping through it.
Perhaps because the room was dimly lit, Cecil fell asleep within a minute.
The wind outside picked up, making a knocking sound on the glass, and large flakes of white snow fell down like torn pieces of paper.
Isri remained standing at the door, his black butler uniform clinging to him like a sheet of paper in the blizzard, offering no warmth whatsoever.
Over time, the hair on my forehead became damp and stuck together in clumps, quickly forming fine ice crystals, and my hands inside the white gloves were so frozen that I couldn't feel them anymore.
Islam exhaled a puff of white mist, slightly moved his frozen hands, looked up at the room still dimly lit, and chuckled softly.
Today, the young master really showed no mercy.
Islam sighed inwardly and lowered his head again, looking at the tightly closed door in front of him.
—
Sesil was awakened by the cold. As soon as he opened his eyes, he hurriedly sat up and turned to look out the window. It was completely dark outside, and large snowflakes fell on the window and refused to melt.
As if God were punishing him, panic showed in Cecil's eyes. Ignoring his cold hands and feet, he quickly ran downstairs.
Even the strongest person can't withstand such a blizzard. Ishri's vision was filled with black mist, and he had completely lost consciousness.
At the last second, as if he heard a noise inside the house, Islam's ears twitched, and he used all his strength to fall down into the snowdrift behind him.
The beauty, shrouded in black, had fair skin and long, slender legs that were slightly curled up. Her bright red lips, reflected on the black and white snow, resembled a crimson rose soaked in blood.
He lay asleep in the snow, his soul intertwined with hell, snowflakes clinging to his body like thorns.
His soul lives forever in hell, serving his god.
"Isri!"
His God has arrived.
Sehir rushed out of the door and looked at Isri lying on the ground, his eyes instantly filled with terror.
"Isri!" Sehir called out again, stepping into the snow and running to Isri's side.
Sehir lifted Isri's arm and draped it over himself, then grabbed Isri's waist and dragged him inside. Isri's cold body pressed tightly against Sehir, making Sehir shiver and quicken his pace.
The person nestled against Cecil twitched their fingertips slightly, and a barely perceptible smile appeared on their lips.
——
Only after dragging the man to the fireplace did Cecil feel relieved enough to run upstairs and bring down a blanket to cover Isri. The ice crystals on his forehead were now dripping water as they melted.
Sehir ran upstairs again, took a towel down, covered Isri's head and wiped it. Seeing that Isri was still not awake, he turned the fire in the fireplace up a bit more.
Sehir sat next to Isri, still reeling from the earlier panic. He wondered how he had suddenly fallen asleep, and now he felt a little resentful of himself.
Looking at the person wrapped in the blanket, there was no flaw on their sharply defined face. Under the firelight, even their cool profile became soft.
After waiting a few more minutes and seeing that the person was still not awake, Cecil frowned and prepared to get up to add some more wood to the fireplace.
Just as I was about to throw it away, that familiar sound finally reached my ears.
"Young master, if the fire in the stove is too strong, it will start a fire."
A hint of surprise flashed in Sehir's eyes. He tossed the piece of wood in his hand aside and said with some excitement in his voice, "You're awake!"
Isri propped himself up and sat up, his movements still somewhat stiff. He pulled off the blanket draped over himself and lifted it to wrap Ceshir inside.
"Young master, be careful not to catch a cold."
Sehir didn't care about any of that now. He tried to reach for the blanket but Isri twisted it together with his fingers.
“I’m not cold,” Sehir said, looking at Isri.
Isley's expression was gentle: "It would be very troublesome if the young master caught a cold."
Sehir was displeased with Isri's words, so he slapped Isri's hand away and said, "Isn't it you who's catching a cold now?"
Isri's hand froze in mid-air, and a hint of grievance could be seen on his face. He curled his lips and said, "Young Master is right."
Sehir stood up, draped the blanket back over Isri, and put the piece of wood he had tossed aside back in its place before finally turning back to Isri and questioning him.
Why are you staring at me like that?
Isri wrapped the blanket tighter around himself, his eyes twitching slightly. "So, young master, is your punishment over?"
Cecil froze for half a second, his ear tips and neck instantly turning red, and his eyes no longer fixed on Isri.
“I…I didn’t say anything about punishment!” Sehir stammered.
A playful glint appeared in Isri's eyes as he teased, "If it's not a punishment... then young master's game is a bit too much. Should I hire a few servants?"
Upon hearing Isri's words, Sehir's earlier embarrassment vanished, and he looked Isri in the eyes and asked, "How many do you want to hire?"
“This is your decision, young master, and I cannot change it.” Isri pursed his lips and raised the corners of his mouth.
After going around in circles, the problem still came back to him. Cecil, unable to resist his stubbornness, interrupted, "You alone are enough."
“If I were alone, I might not be able to handle your game, young master,” Isri teased again.
Speaking of games, these were the perverse hobbies of some nobles, who took pleasure in torturing others and even set up markets to sell their servants cheaply to satisfy their so-called little games.
This is no longer a normal superior-subordinate relationship between master and servant, but a more subtle and perverse one.
When Islam said those words, he was undoubtedly trying to provoke a conflict between them.
Sehir blushed deeply, glaring at Isri: "Don't mention this again!"
Isri's voice was respectful, but he couldn't hide the smile in it: "I understand, young master. I will keep the secret."
Chapter Thirty
Sehir looked at Isri, his ears burning red. Seeing Isri sitting there motionless, he opened his mouth and asked, "What are you still doing sitting here?"
Islam looked up, his face showing a hint of grievance, and a glimmer of tears could be seen in his eyes reflected by the firelight.
"Young Master, I can't move my legs." Saying this, Isri lowered his head: "They're probably frozen."
Upon hearing what had just happened, Cesil felt a pang of shame, and his tone softened as he stepped forward to Isri's side, saying, "Then I'll help you up."
Isri smiled and adopted a well-behaved demeanor: "Yes, young master."
Isri was already tall, and when he was on top of Ceshir, it looked like a child dragging a big tree, which was extremely comical.
Cesil was already panting heavily as he pulled Isri up from the ground and draped him over himself. He glanced up at the second floor and let out a mournful sigh.
In the end, you have to bear the consequences of your own mistakes.