A shout came from behind, and the group of men, wielding sticks, kicked and chased after Cecil.
Ryan knew the area well, turning left and right. Sesil was almost out of breath from being pulled along. Finally, Ryan shoved Sesil behind a box and said, panting.
"Later, go out from here, turn left and then go straight to reach the dock."
Before he could even say goodbye, Ryan moved the box in front of Cecil, completely blocking Cecil's view.
"Goodbye, Philip, I'm sorry for what I did to you today."
With that, Ryan took off running into the distance. Those who were chasing him were only focused on the fleeing man and quickly overlooked Sessil, who was hiding behind the box.
After things quieted down outside, Sehir slowly moved the box aside, glanced at the direction Ryan had fled in the distance, and then looked down at his sleeve, which Ryan had gripped so tightly it was deformed.
Cecil subconsciously patted his sleeves twice, but then seemed to remember something. He didn't hold the action for long, turned around, and walked in the direction Ryan had indicated.
Finally, they reached the entrance of the alley, where the dock was right in front of them. Just as they took their first step, a faint scream seemed to echo from the deep alley. The sound was very soft, but Cecil caught it.
The contrast between the hustle and bustle outside and the silence inside the alley is like heaven and hell, completely separating the two places.
Sehir stood on the dividing line, his eyes fixed on a wall at the far end of the alley, his lips twitching slightly.
"Feel sorry."
——
It had been so long, it was already noon. Cecil was starving after walking only a few steps. He let out a sigh of relief and finally reached the dock after crossing several streets.
“A ticket that allows travel for a month.” Sehir lay down in front of the ticket booth.
For some reason, the ticket booth was built very high, just reaching Cecil's chest. The ticket seller inside glanced at Cecil with an impatient tone.
"A one-month pass? What about your family?"
Being treated like a child by two different people in one day made Sesil want to punch them.
Why am I so short?!
Chapter Thirty-Four
Sehir smiled and said to the ticket seller, "I bought this for my father."
Hearing Cecil say this, the ticket seller finally turned her gaze to Cecil, and was immediately captivated by his adorable face that was upturned.
Sesil felt uneasy under her gaze, and the ticket seller's lips curled up even more sharply: "Then why didn't your father come with you?"
Sehir squinted, his hands clenched tightly, as if he wanted to climb overboard and grab the ticket.
“My father went over there to play and asked me to come and buy it.” As Cecil said this, he caught a glimpse of a group of people rushing out of the alleyway in the distance, looking around suspiciously.
Sehir pulled his hat brim down even lower and leaned back a little behind the ticket counter, trying to hide himself.
Looking at Sesil's adorable appearance, the ticket seller felt even more eager to play with him.
"Let me take a good look at you, and I'll give you a ticket, okay?"
Sehir glanced at the men holding sticks in the distance, a flash of anger in his eyes. He stepped onto the protruding wooden plank under the ticket hall, stood up, and looked down at the ticket sellers.
"Give me the ticket!" Sehir's voice was cold as he placed the silver note he was holding in front of the ticket seller.
The ticket seller was startled by Cecil's sudden standing up and stood there stunned for a full half second before reaching out to take the ticket out of the drawer.
After getting the ticket, Sehir turned and ran away into the distance. If he were discovered by that group now, he would definitely not be able to escape.
Having finally gotten a bit away from the market, Sehir could finally breathe a sigh of relief. Normally, he wouldn't have needed to go through all this trouble; Isri would have already taken care of everything.
Suddenly, the image of Isri flashed through his mind. Ceshir immediately looked up and shook his head, his mind telling him to quickly shake Isri out of his head. He had to get away from Isri; he had to escape from here.
He had wasted the entire noon like this. By the time he got back, the sun had set faster than he had walked. Sehir felt like his lungs were about to burst. He had never imagined that the mansion was so far away.
When he got home, the cold air outside had turned Ceshir's face red, and his hands and feet were almost numb from walking, but thankfully Isri had not returned yet.
Sehir pushed open the door, only to find it pitch black inside. Suddenly, he felt a heavy weight pressing down on his chest, making it hard to breathe. He hadn't seen this scene in a long time.
It was pitch black, and he was the only one left, barely surviving beneath countless dead souls.
But this feeling only lasted a few seconds before Sesil gritted his teeth and rushed upstairs to his room, crawling under the bed to dig for the things he had prepared.
Cecil slowly stuffed a small white bundle into his hand. Looking at the ship ticket in his hand, which he had already crumpled a bit, he still had the heart to close his room door and walk out.
The hall remained quiet, and the sound of my own breathing was amplified infinitely in the empty room. The wind started to pick up outside again, making the windows rattle.
Sehir pulled his clothes tighter around himself and walked toward the front door.
Tonight, he's leaving. He'll leave that madman's side forever!
Excitement outweighed fear, and Sesil walked quickly, reaching out to open the door.
——
The moment Cecil saw what was before him, he felt as if he had fallen into an endless abyss. The dark black butler's uniform pierced his eyes, and the cold, gleaming eyes stared intently at him.
Islam was standing outside the door.
The wind outside was raging, instantly messing up Sehir's hair. He looked up at Isri with horrified eyes.
"Where does the young master wish to go?" Isri asked coldly.
Panic and fear instantly overwhelmed his mind. As if he had made a great decision, Sehir closed his eyes, pushed Isri aside, and rushed out.
Before he could react, Isri stumbled from the push, feeling as if he were being tortured in another way, causing him to wince in pain.
How could Islam let Sehir escape like that? The next second, Islam ran over and lifted Sehir up from his waist.
When Sehilton panicked, he tried to break free from Isri's grasp, and in his haste, he scratched Isri's neck, leaving several red marks.
Isri's aura was terrifyingly cold. He raised his hand to restrain Cesil's frantic wrists. Although the person on top of him was still screaming for him to let go, Isri tightened his grip even more.
Sehir was taken back to his room, where Isri threw him onto the bed. The impact of his back hitting the bed made Sehir cough for a while.
After throwing the man onto the bed, Isri turned and left. Ceshir, however, persisted, and after his cough subsided, he hurriedly climbed off the bed and rushed toward the door.
No matter how hard he pulled, the door seemed to be glued shut and wouldn't budge. Cecil was so anxious that a fine layer of sweat broke out on his back.
When the door finally opened, a glimmer of light flashed in Cecil's eyes, but as soon as the door was actually opened, that light seemed to be suddenly extinguished and could never be rekindled.
Isri looked down at Ceshir, his tone still icy: "Young Master, you still want to escape?"
Sehir's brain was no longer under his control. He was so close to success, but once again, his brain took over his body first, and he actually tried to push Isri away and run away again.
But it was all just a joke.
Isri reached out and grabbed Sehir's wrist, pressing him firmly against the wall. With his other hand, he grabbed Sehir's neck, forcing him to lift his head and look at him.
"Young Master, you actually want to use the same method a second time?" Isri's voice was right next to my ear.
Koseir's gaze was drawn to what was in front of him: a silver chain hanging right in front of him, which his hand, pressed against the wall by Isri, could feel with its rough texture.
“I’m not leaving, let me go!” Sehir’s gaze returned to Isri.
Isri obeyed and released Cesil, but did not let go of the hand pressing against his neck.
His voice was low: "Young Master, you've said this far too many times."
"I'm telling the truth!"
"So what you said before was a lie?" Isri tightened his grip a little more, and Sehir frowned in discomfort.
"without……"
Sehir spoke with difficulty, his brows furrowed tightly.
Isri narrowed his eyes, his breathing became heavier, and he tossed Ceshir back onto the bed.
Having given them ample time, Isri grabbed Ceshir by the ankle and put the shackles on his hands.
Cecil's eyes were filled with terror. He instinctively tried to resist and escape, but as soon as he got up from the bed, Isri used force to throw him back onto the bed.
Isri leaned in and wrapped the extra chain around Cesil's wrist, his deep voice ringing out again in her ear.
Chapter Thirty-Five
“Young Master, why are you still so disobedient? Haven’t you been punished enough?” Isri’s voice pierced his ears like shattered glass. Cecil bit his lower lip tightly to resist the trembling in his body.
Her lips, pale with tension, were bitten so hard they bled, the marks between her teeth seeming to want to squeeze out the blood.
Isri frowned slightly as he looked at the person beneath him. His young master really loved to push his boundaries.
The next second, Isri freed one hand and pinched Cesil's cheeks tightly until Cesil could no longer bear the pain and his teeth were pulled away from his lips.
“Young Master, didn’t I tell you that you can’t bite your lip?” Isri’s voice turned even colder.
Sesil's cheek was pinched painfully, and his teeth ground against the softest flesh inside his mouth. Within seconds, physiological tears welled up in his eyes.
Seeing that Cesil did not unconsciously bite his lip, Isri loosened his grip and gently stroked Cesil's lower lip with his thumb.
Her pale, trembling lips were rubbed raw by fingers through her gloves, making them look as if fresh blood had been dripped onto them.
Isri's breathing became heavier, and the desire in his eyes was laid bare before Cesil.
Sehir had never seen Isri like this before; his eyes were as wild as a jackal's, as if he were staring at his prey, ready to devour it clean at any moment.
“Isri, let me go.”
Sehir abandoned his usual commanding tone and tried to speak in a calm voice.
Driven by lust, Isri paid no heed to these words. He grabbed the entangled wrists and slammed the man against the headboard. The shackles were still attached to the wrists, forcing Cesil's legs to be spread apart at an angle.
Isri held tightly to the chain on Ceshir's wrist with one hand, his body close to Ceshir's ear, but there was still a respectful tone in Isri's voice, showing the proper distinction between master and servant.
“Young Master, I think it would be best if you didn’t speak right now.” Yisri took a breath, seemingly trying to suppress the urge to speak again: “If I can’t hold back, things will get complicated.”
Sesil shuddered. Couldn't help it? What couldn't he help? In an instant, all sorts of thoughts rushed into his mind, and the pain in his wrist was temporarily ignored.
“Young Master is very obedient.” Seeing that Cesil was no longer moving, Isri released him and untied the chain from his wrist.
His wrists were already red from being rubbed. If it were any other time, Isri would have immediately taken out his first-aid kit, but not this time. Isri only had eyes for that iron chain.
The chain was locked to a special fastener that extended from the foot of the bed, seemingly designed to hold the chain in place.
Sehir dared not move, bound by Isri's shackles and chains, and by the things that held the bed legs in place.
When did he prepare everything?
Sehir dared not think about it.