Even though I knew knocking on the door would get me nowhere, I still knocked a few times without thinking.
As I pushed open the door, a fresh scent of soap filled my nostrils, a stark contrast to the pungent smell of alcohol and blood I had just smelled.
The person in the bed hadn't woken up yet. Isri stood in front of the wardrobe, unbuttoning his clothes. Looking at himself like this, Isri felt a pang of self-loathing for the first time.
In the end, the one who hurt Cecil the most was himself, and by using despicable means.
He just wanted this person by his side. Isri turned his head and looked at that pale, almost transparent face, and his heart skipped a beat again.
Banishing the thoughts from his mind, Isri quickly threw his clothes on the ground and changed into a new set.
But when she turned her head, it was as if all the air in the room had been sucked out. Hela, the person on the bed, was awake, and now that gaze was fixed on her.
Isri's throat tightened, his whole body stiffened on the spot, and he looked in other directions, not daring to meet Ceshir's gaze.
“Where is this…?” Cecil asked in a hoarse voice.
There were no screams or curses as I had imagined, nor the voice that had been yelling in my head a thousand times telling me to get out.
All his imagination crumbled completely with those few words. Isri took a step forward and opened his mouth: "My room."
Sehir didn't speak, but tried to move his body a few times. Seeing that it was really painful, he gave up and then opened his mouth.
I'm hungry.
Islam clenched his fists, leaned slightly forward, and bowed, saying, "I'll go prepare."
Why is it so quiet? Islam walked into the corridor, and only then did the long-awaited air finally venture into his nostrils.
Even if someone yells at you and tells you to get lost right now, it's better than remaining silent and pretending you're not doing anything.
Why is it so quiet...?
-
The head of the Cretis family, who was always aloof and unwilling to admit defeat, repeatedly showed his most pathetic side to him, only to be utterly destroyed by him.
“Hiss…” Isri frowned slightly, looking at his finger that had been cut by the knife.
After a long pause, he put his fingers in the cold water until the wounds turned white before Isri realized what was happening and took his hand out.
After the soup was ready and served, Sehir fell into a deep sleep again. Isri sighed softly and was just about to put the bowl on the bedside table when the person on the bed opened his eyes again.
"What are you doing?" Sehir's voice was still hoarse beyond recognition.
Isri stopped what he was doing, put the soup back on the food cart, and bent down to help Cecil sit up.
He had assumed that Cesil would hide, which was some consolation, but the reality surprised Isri again.
Instead of dodging, Sehir was actually cooperating with him. Isri paused for a moment, and Sehir looked up in confusion, meeting Isri's gaze.
Isri hesitated for a moment, then quickly changed his tone: "It's a thick soup; the young master needs some nutrition."
Sehir was pulled a little painfully by Isri, and he gasped, but didn't say anything.
After setting up the bed frame, Cecil swept the hair that was hanging down the side of her face back, picked up the spoon from the table, and because the sleeves of her clothes were a bit big, the spoon slid down to her forearm as she raised her hand.
The bruises on his wrists were glaringly obvious. Isri glanced at them and then turned away, unable to look any further. But Sehir seemed oblivious, silently drinking the soup in his bowl.
Cecil lowered his head, his soft hair slipping down the back of his neck, revealing clean, fair skin—it seemed that this was the only spotless place on his body.
The bone protrudes slightly, forming a pleasing curve, but looking further down, one can vaguely see other marks on the neck, so jarring...
Seeing that Ceshir had finished eating, Isri tidied up the things on the table. Ceshir glanced around, his fingertips twitched, and he opened his mouth.
"Is the room ready?"
“Alright, I’ll take the young master there.” Isri complied with Cesil’s words, but he was still trying to avoid it.
Still feeling a bit rusty, Isri used the same way he usually hugged Cesil, and Cesil couldn't help but cry out in pain.
Islam was startled and quickly adjusted his posture, then hurriedly escorted the person back to the room.
Just as he was about to turn and leave, Cecil's weak voice rang out again: "You'd better study hard, because I might die in bed next time."
Isri had his back to Ceshir, his brows furrowed tightly, his hands clenched and trembling involuntarily. He didn't know what he was angry about or what he was afraid of.
"Are you angry? Or do you like this?" Cecil let out a light breath, a self-deprecating smile curving his lips.
"With a body like that, how many times do you think he can endure it? Twice? Or..."
"Young Master!" Isri opened his mouth, stopping Cecil's voice: "Stop talking."
Cecil didn't care, looking up at the blurry ceiling and calmly opening his mouth.
Chapter 109
"Since you've already dared to do this, what I say won't affect you."
Listening to Ceshir's words, Isri felt as if a knife was cutting into his skin.
The room was quiet except for the sound of his own breathing. Isri turned around and glanced at the person on the bed.
"Young Master, I'll head out now."
When I bend over, my joints feel dry and stiff, like unlubricated chains. I only feel a sense of relief when I close the door.
Islam leaned against the doorway, exhaled a long breath, raised his hand to his forehead, and rubbed the bridge of his nose to relieve a slight headache.
Without Isri's voice, the room fell silent again.
Sehir tilted his head and looked out the window. A few leaves had sprouted on the bare trees, and the buzzing of insects could be heard from time to time.
Sunlight streamed through the glass onto the blankets, and the hand that had been frozen on the bed finally moved slightly. Cecil pulled his hand out from under the blankets and ran it toward the light that carried a hint of dust.
The arm that was raised was still trembling slightly, and the purplish-blue bruises on the wrist were even more glaring in the sunlight, like a venomous snake coiled on the arm, sucking up the last bit of nourishment from the body.
But it seemed as if even the sunlight was deliberately avoiding this spot; it disappeared through the window after only a few hours.
The day passed extremely quickly. Isri only came in a few times during the day, and the two hadn't spoken since their conversation that morning.
Even if it was just Isri who said something, all he got in return was a calm "hmm" from Sehir.
That evening, as Islam was preparing to leave his room, that long-lost voice rang out again.
"Turn off the light, I can't reach it."
Islam paused, turned around, pulled the curtains open a little, and said, "It's a cloudy day today."
Sehir almost never turns off the lights when he sleeps at night. On the rare occasions when the lights are off, it is a clear day outside, and the moonlight shines in perfectly. Isri frowned as he looked at the person on the bed, his lips slightly parted.
"Shut it down."
Isri paused for a moment, nodded, walked to the bedside and turned off the light, instantly plunging the room back into darkness. Isri walked to the door, gritted his teeth, and finally pushed the door open and went out.
—
After an unknown amount of time, the wind outside rattled the glass, but the person lying on the bed still stared at the ceiling with their eyes open.
"Tick-tock...tick-tock"
The sound of a few drops of water falling through the glass made the person on the bed stir and turn to their side.
Sehir threw off the covers, and a gust of cold wind made him shiver. After sleeping all day, his back was very sore, and it took him a lot of effort to get out of bed.
The room was dark. Cecil fumbled around for a while before finally finding the curtains in front of him. After pulling them open, he discovered that it was raining outside.
The glass was soaked with rainwater, obscuring the view outside. This was the first time it had rained since I came back; it had been so long.
Cecil tiptoed slightly and unlocked the glass. In an instant, the cold wind from outside rushed in, making his clothes billow.
Cecil seemed oblivious to the cold wind, leaning against the window and stretching his hand out. Raindrops pattered on his hand and arm, seeping in with a chill.
It seemed that only the bone-chilling cold made Sesil feel alive. A cold wind blew, washing away the layer of water that had accumulated in his palms.
Is there any point in continuing like this? Sehir tilted his head and could vaguely see the horses in the stable leisurely eating their fodder. He didn't even have the same carefree life as a beast of burden.
The trees in the distance rustled in the wind, but further on, lights were still on in the town. They were soaking in the rain, still worrying about their future.
Cecil instinctively took another step forward, wanting to see more clearly, but as soon as he lifted his foot, something stopped him. Looking down, he realized it was the ring he had thrown out.
The cold wind continued to blow, and the hair on his forehead was almost completely soaked by the rain. Cecil stood by the window, looking down at the ring lying on the ground.
After hesitating for a while, Sehir finally bent down and picked up the things.
The black and gold rose on it was still intact, tightly wrapped around the delicate, bright silver ring.
Cecil placed the ring in his palm and held it out of the window. Soon, the rain enveloped the ring, and the overflowing water flowed down his wrist, into his clothes, and then down his waist to his feet.
Once he felt it was about time, Cecil reached his hand inside. The floor was a little wet. He closed the window, and the room temperature rose again.
Sehir curled up and put the cold ring back on his left hand.
The dark and hopeless confinement ultimately turned that proud canary into a prisoner in a cage.
His body was already weak, and with the cold wind last night, Cecil developed a high fever early this morning.
Islam called out several times but received no response. It wasn't until his hand touched her body that he realized she was burning up incredibly hot.
Islam spent the whole morning preparing the medicine, changing the ice towels several times along the way.
When Fussehir got up to drink his medicine, he was still in a daze, and the medicine that was about to come to his mouth dripped down the corner of his mouth several times.
The medicine itself was bitter, and for the unconscious Sesil, it was an instinctive reaction to something he didn't like.
Islam frowned and used every method he could think of to finally manage to get a mouthful of medicine down his throat.
Seeing that Cesil wasn't taking his medicine, Isri's expression also turned sour.
“Young Master…” Isri called out.
Sehir did not respond, but frowned in discomfort. Isri leaned down, put his hand through Sehir's neck, and after a while, he still held back, took a sip of medicine, and reached for Sehir's pale lips.
If you wake up, then keep hating it...
Suddenly, a bitter taste was brought in, and Cecil's resistance became even more obvious. He couldn't help but raise his hand and tear at Isri's arm.
As Isri was preparing to feed the second bite, his gaze suddenly fell on Cesil's hand, the black glittering color strikingly bright.
Islam paused for a moment, then lowered its head and pressed its lips to his again. This time, Islam's touch was slow, and its heart felt as bitter as the taste rising in its throat.
Why are you putting the ring back on? What are you trying to say, young master...?
How ironic. Isri closed his eyes, feeling the lips that were still trembling slightly.
"You are still afraid, young master."