Born as the second son of the Cretis family, the young master was like a rose growing among thorns, stubborn and resilient.
Looking into those deep blue eyes is like falling into an endless deep sea, making one unable to extricate oneself.
......
“Isri, from today onwards, Sehir is in your care. Please take good care of him.”
"yes!"
Young Sehir moved step by step toward Isri, who knelt before Sehir, placed his right hand on his chest, and bowed slightly.
"Young Master."
“Isri?” Young Sehir smiled and reached out to touch Isri’s face. “Isri…brother.”
Islam paused for a few seconds, then quickly bent down even lower: "Young Master, you can just call me by my name."
Sehir laughed even harder, stretched out his arms, and threw himself into Isri's arms: "Isri, you're so beautiful!"
Isri remained stiff and dared not move, letting Sehir hold him like that.
"Thank you for the compliment, young master."
Sehir wanted to hold Isri's hand, but Isri's hands were too big, so Sehir could only hold Isri's little finger.
“Isri, take me outside.”
"Yes, young master."
......
Isri moved his hand away, leaned back in his chair, looked down at Ceshir, and let out a soft sigh.
On the contrary, they become disobedient when they grow up.
Sehir was awakened by hunger. When he opened his eyes it was already afternoon. The feeling of drowsiness had almost disappeared, but the pain had not.
Before Ceshir could speak, Islam spoke first upon seeing him.
"Young master, don't be afraid, I won't do anything."
As soon as he said those words, Sehir calmed down visibly and lay motionless on the bed.
"Young Master, what would you like to eat?" Isri asked, getting up.
Sehir remained silent; he found even twitching his lips difficult. Isri, unconcerned, nodded slightly and turned to leave.
Watching Isri close the door, Sehir closed his eyes again, his breathing becoming heavier.
Am I going to be locked up here forever?
Why did he run away back then?
Sesil felt as if the nerves in his head were intertwined, constantly tearing at his remaining consciousness.
The intense pain in his body told him that if he tried to escape, Isri would never let him go, and might even escalate his attacks.
Sehir exhaled and turned his head to look out the window. Several small birds were perched on the branches, carrying twigs in their beaks.
Sehir was lost in thought for an unknown amount of time. He didn't even notice when Isri opened the door until Isri pushed the food cart in front of him, at which point Sehir subtly moved twice.
"Young Master, dinner is ready."
Isri bent down to help Sehir up, but Sehir, startled, quickly said, "I can get up by myself."
Isri's hand stopped in mid-air, and he raised an eyebrow, saying, "Yes, young master."
Having said that, he stood aside and waited for Cecil to sit up from the bed.
What should have been a simple matter now seemed to Sehir harder than climbing to heaven.
Sehir propped himself up on his sides and slowly moved his body, trying his best to lean against the headboard.
The whole action lasted for several minutes, and fine beads of sweat appeared on Cecil's forehead before he finally leaned in.
Seeing this, Isri brought the white porridge that was placed on the cart to Sehir.
Just as Sehir was about to reach out to take it, he suddenly realized something and didn't raise his hand. Isri smiled secretly and fed Sehir a spoonful of porridge into his mouth.
His stomach, which hadn't eaten all day, was almost empty. After taking several large gulps, Sesil finally slowed down.
As the bowl of white porridge gradually came to a stop, Sesil moved his head away and looked out the window. The birds that had been there earlier were nowhere to be seen. The sun had already set, and the remaining sunset outside was as red as blood.
It's like the petals of a rose being torn open, spilling all the juice onto the pure white clouds.
He grabbed the rose that was meant for him, regardless of whether it was right or wrong, as long as he got it.
Sehir turned around, still not looking at Isri, and waited for a long time before opening his mouth.
Are you planning to keep me locked up at home forever?
Isri paused abruptly as he tidied up, turned back to look at Ceshir, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly, but he remained silent.
Sehir closed his eyes, seemingly having mentally prepared himself, then opened them to meet Isri's gaze.
"Isri, please take me out of here."
Ceshir used the word "lead," meaning he wanted Isri to lead him out, and he didn't want to run away himself.
In what seemed like an instant, Isri recalled the image of Ceshir, who was just a child back then, not even as tall as his waist, pulling his hand and asking him to take him out.
Isri loosened his grip, turned around, his gaze seemed to soften, and bent down to brush the hair that was covering Sehir's face away.
Almost instantly, Sehir dodged Isri's hand, a flicker of fear crossing his eyes.
It was an instinctive reaction that made him dodge, but he regretted it afterward. Isri's eyes returned to their previous indifference as he straightened up.
In that instant, a thought flashed through Isri's mind: he wanted to make his god completely obedient.
Isri bent down again, raised his hand and pressed it against Cesil's ear. Cesil couldn't dodge the other hand and could only let Isri lift his hair.
The scorching gas sprayed around his ears, instantly making Sesil explode like a powder keg.
"I'll consider letting the young master go when he's willing to do it with me."
After saying that, Islam didn't forget to place a kiss on her already burning earlobe.
Chapter Ninety-Six
Sehir trembled with rage, his eyes gradually becoming bloodshot, and his hands gripped the bedsheets, shaking uncontrollably.
Sehir turned his head and parted Isri's lips, gritting his teeth as he spoke: "Bastard... madman..."
Isri chuckled softly, his tone teasing: "Is that all the young master knows how to say?"
Sehir, angered by the sudden teasing, turned pale and then purple. He searched through all his words and could only come up with these two.
Sehir glared at Isri with wide eyes and furious expression.
"Aren't you afraid of being discovered like this? That's a crime punishable by beheading."
Isri removed his hand from Ceshir's ear, his expression unreadable, his golden eyes no longer fixed on Ceshir.
Islam placed his hand on the food cart and said in a nonchalant tone.
"I would be willing to die for the young master."
Sehir was also momentarily stunned. He hadn't expected Isri's answer, but to be honest, he didn't know how Isri was going to answer before asking the question.
Cecil would never have asked any questions about the unknown before, but now he's asking them so openly and brazenly, waiting for an answer.
Sehir raised his hand to rub his head; his mind was a jumbled mess, and he couldn't organize his thoughts. Hearing the door close, Sehir crawled back under the covers.
He needed to re-evaluate his clarity of mind; he had never dared to believe himself in this nonsensical, foolish state.
Even so, when he huddled under the covers, Cecil felt as if he were in an ice cave, surrounded by countless blocks of ice, unable to move.
Sehir closed his eyes, his brows furrowed tightly, the sounds around him growing louder and louder, until finally the sound of the door opening exploded in his ears again.
Hearing the sound, Sehir opened his eyes and looked outside the door.
"Young Master, it's time to take your medicine." Isri walked in from the doorway carrying a tray.
It was then that Sehir realized he had a fever, which was why he was so confused.
He seems to be making excuses for himself.
Upon seeing Isri approach, Sehir had already propped himself up to sit up, took the medicine, and quickly put it into his mouth.
Hot water carrying the medicine rushed down his throat, and the bitter taste exploded in his throat in an instant. Cecil frowned slightly, but still controlled his expression, and crawled back into the quilt, turning his back to Isri.
Islam glanced at the person on the bed, turned around and walked to the other side, drew the curtains, and left a warm light on in the room.
"Good night, young master."
After saying that, Islam closed the door again and left.
The only sound in the quiet room was the rising and falling of the person on the bed. After hearing the door close, Cecil turned around and looked up at the ceiling.
The murals that were once clearly visible have now become somewhat blurry. Sehir gave a wry smile and closed his eyes once more.
Is it voluntary? Impossible, he would never agree to it.
But... Cecil frowned again, opened his eyes, and looked at the tightly closed door. What methods would that madman use to get him to agree?
He dared not think too deeply about it; the wind outside seemed to be picking up, and his palpitations were becoming more and more pronounced.
—
The next day, before dawn, Sesil was awakened by the throbbing pain in his back. He propped himself up and sat up in bed, his dark circles clearly visible under his eyes.
Early in the morning, there were still a few birds chirping outside the window. Cecil thought about getting out of bed and opening the curtains, so he moved his body and put his legs off the bed.
At first, nothing was wrong; my feet were firmly planted on the ground. But as soon as I tried to stand up, my legs felt like they had been dislocated, and I collapsed onto the ground.
Fortunately, Sehir reacted quickly and grabbed the blanket on the bed. Unfortunately, both the blanket and Sehir fell to the ground.
Sehir was furious and slammed his fist on the ground.
Just then, Islam pushed the door open and came in from outside. He glanced at Sehir sitting on the ground, put down what he was holding, and bent down to help Sehir up from the ground.
"Young Master, where do you want to go?"
Sehir quickly pulled his hand out from under Isri's arm, looked at the curtains, and said, "Pull the curtains."
Islam nodded slightly, walked to the window, and straightened the curtains.