"Could you come back with me? If I get back too late, my father will run away." Philip's voice was weak; if you only listened to his voice, you would think he was a very cute child.
Cecil ignored Philip's words, instead lowered his eyes, picked up the cane beside him, jumped off the carriage, and looked up at the clock hanging in the distance.
“Let’s go,” Cecil said, glancing back at Philip.
Philip's eyes flickered, and he instantly followed Cecil's steps.
Even knowing that Cecil was a boy, Philip couldn't help but look up at Cecil. His short, golden hair shone in the sunlight, making his skin appear even whiter. His aristocratic young master's clothes were luxurious yet understated, and they looked like they could be sold for a lot of money.
As Philip watched, the desire in his eyes grew even more unrestrained; he wished he could hang Cecil up and admire him.
However, what Philip didn't notice was that in a dark alley, a pair of amber-colored golden eyes were staring at him.
Those eyes were like those of the Grim Reaper; as Cecil's figure disappeared, those golden pupils also gradually vanished into the dark alley.
Vanished without a trace.
Philip's house was behind a dilapidated tavern, in an empty lot that looked extremely desolate.
"What are you planning to do?" Sehir stood at the ventilation shaft, shivering.
“I drugged his drink and knocked him unconscious.” Philip lowered his head, rubbing two fingers together, looking aggrieved, but his words were unambiguous.
“And me?” Cecil said, following Philip’s lead.
“You’re hiding here.” As he spoke, Philip tried to grab Cecil, but the next second, Cecil dodged away.
Philip withdrew his hand and pointed to the cave entrance: "Wait for me there. My father is a madman, and I don't want to scare you."
Sehir nodded, followed the direction Philip pointed, and shrunk himself inside, indicating that he understood.
Philip chuckled to himself, nodded, and pushed open his door to go inside.
At the same time, Cecil immediately crawled out of the hole, frowning and patting the dirt off his body with a look of disgust.
"Are you done?" Cecil's voice was soft, clear, and bright, echoing in the desolate open space like a call to action.
"You're ready, young master. Everything is set."
Those dark amber eyes appeared in the shadows as he performed a standard butler's salute, his black attire blending seamlessly with the surrounding darkness.
Chapter Thirteen
After giving a soft "hmm," Sehir stood at the entrance of the cave and waited.
Within minutes, a series of clattering sounds came from the cave, and those with good hearing could even hear a few curses.
"Where is he?! Where is the person you were talking about?! You dare to lie to me!"
“He’s right here. I saw him come in with my own eyes!”
The sound was very faint, and it reached Cecil's ears intermittently.
Immediately afterwards, Philip rushed out of the door alone, with several whip marks on his body. He stared at Cecil with wide eyes, his pupils terrifying and his eyes bloodshot.
"Why did you come out?" Philip asked, trying to keep his voice as low as possible.
However, due to excessive compression, the sound became eerie and distorted, like a bayonet being slashed across glass.
“It’s too dirty.” Cecil patted his clothes upon seeing this. “I don’t like it inside.”
Philip approached Cecil, feigning a wronged expression: "Didn't you say you would help me?"
Sesil's eyes welled up with tears, and he looked as if he had suffered a great injustice.
"But it's too dirty inside, I don't like it."
Immediately, Philip was stunned by Cecil's charm. Standing there, he stammered, "Then, let's go back to my house. My house isn't dirty."
Sehir gave a bewitching smile: "Okay."
Philip grinned, laughing even more heartily, giggling.
Philip looked at his dark doorway, then glanced at the innocent Cecil, and a mocking thought began to creep into his mind.
Once you go in there, you'll never come out again. It will be your death ground, a hell from which you'll forever regret.
Cecil held a cane, his golden hair appearing even more beautiful in the sunlight, like golden threads woven by God, and his jewel-like blue eyes seemed to have been set in by God himself.
She was both elegant and glamorous, standing out from the common people around her.
Philip rushed into the house first, followed closely by Cecil.
As he stepped onto the first step, his cane was held in his right hand with a loud "bang!" that stood out conspicuously in the quiet open space.
By the time Cecil stepped onto the second step, the madman inside the door was already ready, and the butcher outside was poised to strike.
Finally, when the cane made its third sound, the madman and the butcher burst forth simultaneously, with the butcher clearly being faster.
Police from the West Asian continent, armed with long guns, quickly surrounded the open space. The father and son stood at the entrance, watching everything with astonishment.
Seeing the situation, Cecil immediately jumped down from the steps and stood to the side. A flash of anger appeared in Philip's eyes, but he quickly suppressed it, jumped down from the steps, and cowered beside Cecil.
"Brother, please help me."
"You little bastard!" The father's eyes were bloodshot, and his black apron was stained with countless drops of blood.
"Hands up above your head!" The officers pointed their guns at the madman's head.
The madman was very obedient, raising his hands above his head and coming down the steps. As he turned around, his eyes suddenly swept over Cecil.
Suddenly, the madman froze, staring wide-eyed at Cecil.
God! He had never met anyone so beautiful in his life.
The madman's gaze was fixed intently on Cecil's face.
Sehir felt uncomfortable under the stare and subconsciously took a few steps back.
"Young master, slow down."
Suddenly a soft yet forceful voice entered his ears, and Cecil shuddered, turning his head to look at Isri.
“You might accidentally fall down like that,” Isri said with a smile.
This time, the madman's gaze became even more audacious. He was captivated by Cecil's trembling, her petite body, her golden hair, and especially her jewel-like eyes.
The madman fell in love.
The madman's eyes were too crazy. After Isri noticed this, he subconsciously pulled Cesil behind him.
"Young master, it's dangerous ahead."
Islam whispered in Ceshir's ear...
The madman was enraged.
He had reached his prey, who had been defiled; the filthy demon had touched his god! Filthy! Filthy!
The madman's eyes were instantly filled with bloodshot veins, and he lowered his head, letting out a low, guttural roar.
Seeing the timid Philip, Cecil handed his cane to Isri and walked up to the officer.
"Officer, you are missing a prisoner."
The officer was also taken aback by Cecil's appearance, and his voice softened.
Who are you talking about?
Cecil curled his lips into a smile, his captivating eyes glancing slightly at Philip: "It's him."
Philip froze on the spot, staring at Cecil in disbelief.
The tenderness that once filled Cecil's eyes has vanished, leaving only indifference and ruthlessness.
After receiving Cecil's message, the officers split into a small group and surrounded Philip.
Philip's lips trembled slightly, and his eyes were now filled with panic and fear. The only straw he could grasp at was Cecil.
“Brother, didn’t you say you would help me?” Philip softened his voice.
Unfortunately, even the gentlest voice sounded even more terrifying coming from him, and his eerie pupils sent chills down the spines of the surrounding police officers.
Cecil met Philip's gaze, bright as ever, a slight smile playing on his lips, and the boyish innocence of his voice escaped his lips.
"Is there?"
Philip was stunned again, then suddenly realized something, and his lips trembled even more violently: "You never believed me in the first place?"
Sehir still smiled: "I don't trust anyone."
"Then what you said to me!" Philip's eyes widened, wanting to run out of the circle and confront Cecil.
But the surrounding police officers held them firmly in place.
Sehir stood still, the sun had risen to its highest point, his bright golden hair was being blown by the breeze, and the light in his eyes dimmed slightly.
Because the wind was too strong, Isri stepped forward and stood beside Ceshir to shield him.
Cecil smirked: "Just take this as a joke."
Philip was blocked and unable to move, while the other madman, who was surrounded, had eyes that were completely stained red.
His God! He was talking to someone else and didn't even glance at himself.
With such a healthy body and such perfect organs, why not keep them in your own hands!
The madman bit his lip, lowered his head, and wished he could tear off the only tender flesh on his body.
As Cesil left Isri's side, the gust of wind that Isri had blocked once again ruffled his short, golden hair.
The madman was completely consumed by madness.
Without hesitation, he snatched the gun from the officer in front of him and shouted at the top of his lungs.
You can only be mine!
The bullet shot out of the barrel and hurtled toward Cecil. It all happened so fast that no one had time to react.
In the end, however, it was Isri who fell to the ground, a pool of deep red blood staining the entire gray-white ground.
She was a rose blooming on the edge of hell; Isri's black hair was soaked in blood, and her skin was as pale as a sheet of paper on a wall.
Sehir froze, his body stiff as if filled with lead, his previously warm hands and feet instantly dropping to zero.
Horror, fear, and disgust as the massacres of his family years ago replayed before his eyes.