Philip's screams echoed from the cellar one after another. Isri removed the dagger from Philip's face, tossed it aside without a care, and asked in an elegant tone, "Do you know why I broke your hand?"
Philip covered his eyes, his whole body trembling.
“Your hand touched the young master, and I shouldn’t have accepted it, but I’m afraid it might frighten him, so I’ll keep it.”
With only one eye left, Fili still glared fiercely at Isri, but this threat was like a kitten scratching an itch—it didn't hurt at all.
Isley remained expressionless, turned around, closed the cellar door, and left the place. He was afraid that if he stayed any longer, he would torture people to death.
Back in his room, Isri washed off the filth, then took his clothes outside and burned them completely, leaving not a trace of ash behind.
When Sehir regained consciousness, he felt a sharp pain and a warm sensation all over his body. After struggling to open his eyes, he saw Isri sitting quietly next to him.
Sehir propped himself up and sat up, his ears turning bright red as he looked at his clothes and smelled the fragrance of his bath.
"What did you do last night!"
“Yesterday, while the young master was asleep, I took the liberty of bathing him,” Isri said truthfully, his smile unchanged.
Sehir's ears were so red they looked like they were about to bleed; he hadn't had Isri give him a bath in a long time.
"You don't need to wash me when I'm asleep! I'll wash myself when I wake up!" Cesil was a little embarrassed and angry, turning his head away and not daring to look at Isri.
“I understand, young master.” Isri’s voice remained calm.
Once the atmosphere had eased a little, Cecil slowly opened his mouth: "Where's the child from yesterday?"
Upon hearing the word "child," Isri's expression gradually darkened: "I've already locked him in a cage. We'll make a decision when the young master wakes up."
"A cage?" Sehir was puzzled, as there was no cage in the house.
“I prepared this at the last minute,” Isri said respectfully.
It must be said that Sehir greatly admired Isri's hands-on skills; what would take others three or four days to complete, Isri could always finish in a single day.
"Take me there."
"Yes, young master."
The pristine white, lotus-leaf silk nightgown made Sesil appear even smaller. After Isri helped Sesil dress, Sesil sat on the edge of the bed waiting for Isri to choose shoes.
When Isri came over again, Sehir stretched his legs off the bed. Isri calmly squatted down, lifted Sehir's feet, and slowly put on his shoes.
When they reached the door, Isri draped the thick cloak over Ceshir's shoulders and stepped forward to open the door, blocking the first gust of cold wind from blowing in.
Ceshir walked ahead, shivering from the cold wind outside, which showed how cold the cellar must be. He couldn't help but glance back at Isri, who still had a smile on his face, as if nothing had changed.
Cecil pulled his cloak up, exhaled a breath of hot air, and went to the cellar door. As soon as he opened the door, a chill rushed up from below, mixed with a cold wind, and he could smell a trace of blood.
“What did you do to him?” Sehir frowned slightly and turned to look at Isri.
Isri’s voice was calm, but his eyebrow twitched slightly: “He was just a little disobedient yesterday.”
Sehir was a little afraid of Isri's paranoia, but at least it wasn't too noticeable in himself, so he thought he would lift his foot and prepare to walk down.
He had only taken one step when he saw Isri follow him. Ceshir immediately turned around and stopped him: "You can just wait up there."
Isli looked troubled, and his smile seemed to fade slightly, but he still respectfully replied, "Yes."
As Isri watched the figure gradually disappear from his sight, a possessive desire instantly filled his mind. Even a young master in winter clothes was so lovable.
His amber pupils stared at the cellar entrance like a cobra's, and the smile on his face vanished completely. The cold wind blew the black hair on his forehead, making it dance like a ghost in the air.
As Cecil entered the cellar, he was suddenly struck by a cold glint behind him. Turning around, he could only see Is standing at the door with a smile on his face.
Sehir pulled his shawl up a little higher, quickened his pace, and walked to the innermost part of the cellar.
Sure enough, there was a cage in the place where the orange flames were shining. The cage didn't look very big; it could only fit one person.
Sehir walked up to the cage and looked at the person huddled inside. The blood on Philip's face had already been washed away by Isri; after all, his young master didn't like these things.
Cecil glanced at the right hand, which was twisted beyond recognition, then looked away and tapped the iron cage twice.
Startled awake by the sound, Philip twisted his body and slightly raised his head. Even though he was prepared, Cecil was still startled by the sight of that single pupil.
Philip looked at Cecil, his fear lessening slightly, then replaced by disbelief: "You're a boy?"
Sehir sat on the stool in front of the iron cage, looking down at Philip: "So what if it is?"
Philip looked at Cecil, whose dark blue eyes shone even brighter in the yellow candlelight, like gemstones refracting different lights.
He wants it!
Philip looked up at Cecil, then feigned innocence and fear: "I was threatened."
Sesil's interest was piqued. He crossed his legs, propped his chin on one hand, and asked with a playful tone, "Threatened? By whom?"
Seeing that Cecil was getting serious, Philip made himself look even more pitiful: "It's my father, he's gone mad!"
Cecil's eyes are round, somewhere between phoenix eyes and peach blossom eyes. Just looking at them, it seems as if they contain all emotions. With the slightest movement, they can make people's imaginations run wild and become obsessed with them.
Seeing Cecil frown, Philip became even more enthusiastic, lifting up his clothes to reveal bruises all over his body: "My father always beats me, saying that if I can't find a pretty girl, he'll beat me to death."
The marks on his body couldn't be faked. Cecil tilted his head and glanced at him a few times, his eyes unreadable. Then, Cecil's lips curled up, and his voice was extremely deceptive. He squatted down, took off his cloak, and threw it at Philip.
"I understand. You are innocent. I will have my butler release you."
A hint of mockery flashed in Philip's eyes as he watched Cecil walk away, and finally couldn't help but let out a "crunch crunch" laugh.
Sehir walked to the door expressionlessly, and Isri, seeing this, immediately took off his coat and draped it over Sehir's shoulders.
Sehir looked up at the distant pine forest and said indifferently, "The cage is a bit flimsy."
Chapter Seven
In an instant, Isri understood Cecil. He bowed slightly and lowered his head: "I understand, young master. I will cooperate with you."
Sehir hummed in agreement. Since it was still too cold outside, he quickened his pace to go back. After seeing Sehir to the door, Isri turned to go back to the cellar, but Sehir called him back.
"Isri!"
“What is it, young master?” Isri turned around.
The white shirt was slightly disheveled by the wind, and the ribbon around his neck was also twisted and turned. Isri seemed oblivious to the cold, still smiling as he looked at Cesil.
Sehir threw the clothes into Isri's hands, his face showing disgust: "Put your clothes on, or I'll be in trouble if you get sick."
Isri looked at Sehir in shock. Although Sehir looked disgusted, Isri could at least see something else in Sehir's eyes.
"Thank you for your concern, young master." Isri gave another gentlemanly bow, dressed, and turned to walk towards the cellar.
Seeing Isri walk away, Sehir turned and ran to his room, slamming the door shut with a "bang," and leaned against the door, panting heavily.
After catching his breath, he crawled under the bed, pulled out a section of the floorboard, and looked inside.
There were clothes, some food that could be stored for a long time, and some money. Sehir put in the things he had collected that day. After covering the floor, he crawled out from under the bed and sat on the bed. Only then did Sehir stop his rapidly beating heart.
Yes, he wanted to escape from Isri, that madman. He couldn't stand Isri; Isri was too crazy about him, to the point of being morbidly possessive.
Sehir had escaped several times, but without exception, he was always caught and brought back. He still vividly remembered the terrifying look in those eyes. He couldn't take that risk; he had to think things through more carefully.
On the other side, Isri also arrived at the cellar. When Fili saw Isri, his expression instantly became excited. However, Isri did not pay any attention to Fili. Instead, he squatted down and directly pulled the shawl off Fili's body.
"How can you let such a dirty thing wear the young master's things?" Isri's eyes showed disgust as he threw the shawl aside and picked up his toolbox.
Philip thought he could finally go out, but to his surprise, Isri took out a four-corner clamp from the toolbox.
Philip panicked instantly, watching Isri hammering away repeatedly: "What are you doing! Your master clearly said he would let me out!"
Seeing Philip's sudden anxiety, Isri chuckled softly: "I haven't seen the young master."
Philip was momentarily confused: "What do you mean?"
Isri stopped what he was doing, his gaze finally landing on Philip: "I don't like you, understand?"
Philip sat on the ground: "So you're saying you disobeyed your master's orders?"
Islam's smile deepened; he seemed quite pleased with Philip's words: "Yes."
A flicker of surprise crossed Philip's eyes, but disbelief was more of a shock. Words rushed through his mind, but only three remained on his lips: "Why?"
Why would he disobey his master's orders? Isn't he afraid of punishment? Isn't he afraid of being exiled? Why is this person still smiling?
Isri put down the hammer in his hand, tugged at the sturdiness of the cage, and only after he was satisfied did he open his mouth slowly, his tone tinged with mockery: "Guess?"
After saying this, Isri chuckled, picked up the toolbox beside him, turned and walked out, leaving Fili alone in the cage. His traditional beliefs were being shattered bit by bit, until finally, a series of howls echoed in the dark cellar.
When Isri returned, Sehir was already asleep. Isri went to the bedside, pulled the blanket up a bit, and finally looked at Sehir's furrowed brows.
Did you have a nightmare?
Isri took off his white gloves, warmed his hands, and then squatted down next to Cesil, gently rubbing his brow with his fingertips.
The effect was obvious; Cecil made intermittent whimpers of resistance, and after turning over, his furrowed brows finally relaxed.
Isri stood up, put on gloves. The young master was too tired last night, and he had been so careless that he forgot to boil milk for him.
Looking at the small push on the bed, Isri felt an even greater sting in his eyes. It was his negligence, his fault.
After bowing to Sehir, Isri quietly went out to prepare lunch and the glass of milk he had forgotten about.
When Cecil woke up, it was almost dark outside. When he opened his heavy eyelids, he was somewhat surprised, as he had never slept for so long before.
Subconsciously, Sehir touched the spot where he had been injected yesterday, and after a while, he breathed a sigh of relief.
Seeing that it was almost time, Sehir put on his shoes and headed to the restaurant.
As soon as he arrived at the door, a fragrant aroma inside tantalized Sehir's taste buds.
Inside the restaurant, the magnificent crystal chandeliers cast a soft glow, making the entire place elegant and tranquil. The ornate European-style tables and chairs were all painted pure white, exuding an air of nobility.
A white porcelain vase sits in the center of the table, its delicate pink roses blooming beautifully, harmonizing perfectly with the elegant surroundings.
Sehir took a breath of cold air, expelling the stale air from his lungs. Just then, Isri pushed the food cart over.
Upon seeing Ceshir, Islam leisurely pulled out a stool for Ceshir to sit on, and then pulled out a rectangular apron from under the dining cart and placed it over Ceshir's collar.
Isri took the plate off the food cart and pushed it in front of Sehir. It was a plate of pasta with a few shredded carrots on top.
Cecil frowned upon seeing it, his tone somewhat reproachful: "Have you forgotten something? I don't like carrots."
Isri placed the cakes and desserts from the food cart in front of Cecil, speaking softly, "If the young master doesn't eat them, there won't be any desserts tonight."
Sishir was rendered speechless by Isri's words, so he had no choice but to pick up his knife and fork, look at the cake, and eat the orange-red lump.
Isri was pleased with Sehir's behavior and finally poured the still-steaming milk from a round iron jug.