He's doomed.
When he got off the carriage, Sehir's legs were weak and he stumbled. When Isri saw this, he immediately stepped forward and picked Sehir up.
Cecil, who had been on edge, seemed to collapse in an instant. His eyes widened and his lips trembled violently: "Isri, I didn't mean to!"
Isri met Cesil's gaze, his voice still cold: "What is the young master saying?"
Sehir paused for a moment, then tentatively asked, "You didn't see it?"
“I saw it.”
In an instant, Cecil was plunged into the ice cave again.
As soon as they entered the room, Sehir tried to break free from Isri: "Isri, I'll go take a shower myself, let me go, let me go."
However, the two were far apart in strength, and Cesil did not want to touch Isri's injured areas, so all their struggles were in vain.
Isri carried Sehir into the bathroom and turned on the hot water. Instantly, a mist enveloped the two of them.
Isri placed the man on the ground and began to loosen Ceshir's collar. Ceshir's heart was pounding and his throat felt tight.
“Isri, I can do it myself.”
Isri didn't speak, his hands continuing their actions. Sehir's mind was buzzing. He raised his trembling hand and placed it on Isri's hand, trying to push him away.
“Isri, let me go, I can manage on my own.”
In the blink of an eye, Isri glanced at the trembling hand, and instantly a burning desire ignited in his eyes.
Islam met the misty eyes, grabbed the cold, icy hand in front of him, twisted it behind his back, and did the same with the other hand.
Sehir was firmly pinned to the spot, unable to move, his hands almost numb from being held back by Isri.
“Young Master, you’re too dirty tonight. You can’t clean yourself. I have to help you.” Isri’s voice remained flat.
His clothes had been unbuttoned down to his chest. Cecil was trembling uncontrollably, his eyes tightly closed, with a red blush appearing at the corners of his eyes from pressing too hard.
“Isri, please don’t do this, I was wrong… let me go… I can do it myself.” Ceshir’s voice was broken and intermittent, as if he were begging for mercy.
Isri paused what he was doing, then pulled Sehir into a tight embrace from behind, his grip suddenly tightening.
"Ugh!" Cesil cried out in pain, collapsing headfirst into Isri's neck—
Chapter Twenty-Two
Cecil nestled against Isri's neck, still tentatively opening his mouth: "Isri, I was wrong, please let me go."
The next second, Isri's voice was like a demon's growl, instantly sending chills down Cesil's spine.
"If the young master continues to be so disobedient, I will use my methods to make him behave properly."
Sure enough, Ceshir immediately bit his lip and stopped talking. Isri smiled slightly and pulled the person up in front of him.
Isri removed his gloves, raised his clean, slender fingers, and wiped away the tears that Sehir had squeezed out of the corners of his eyes, his voice low.
"Young Master is so good."
Sehir dared not look at Isri, so he closed his eyes again. The bathroom was filled with steam, and fine beads of sweat began to appear on Isri's forehead.
Smooth, fair skin was soon revealed to Isri, but Isri showed no appreciation whatsoever; his eyes were filled with disgust and anger.
Isri picked up Sehir and threw him into the bathtub without any mercy. Caught off guard, Sehir choked on the water in the tub. When he climbed out of the tub, a violent coughing sound came from the empty bathroom.
Sehir gripped the edge of the bathtub tightly, frowning as he glared at Isri, but upon seeing Isri's cold gaze, Sehir averted his eyes and dared not speak.
This time, Islam was truly angry.
Isri tied his hair back with a ribbon, loosened the bow tie at his collar with his index finger and took it off, then took off his coat and hung it on the hanger.
The white shirt became indistinct due to the mist, and the gauze underneath was faintly visible. The buttons at the collar were undone, and the sleeves were pushed up to the elbows.
Islam had his back to Ceshir, his shirt tucked into his trousers, revealing his slender waist.
Islam had not an ounce of fat on her body, and the curve of her back was perfect. Unlike the sexiness of direct, naked exposure, this semi-concealed beauty was like something sculpted by an artist.
When Isri turned around, Sehir abruptly looked away, lowered his head, and hugged himself tightly.
"Young master, relax."
Islam tried to keep his voice as low as possible; tonight, everything was about to push him to the limit.
After listening to Isri's words and preparing himself mentally, Sehir removed his hands from his body. Isri was quite satisfied and squeezed foam onto his hands before rubbing it into Sehir's hair.
At first, Sehir was able to accept Isri's behavior, but after washing his hair, Sehir looked completely resistant.
Smooth foam was applied to his body, and the cool touch on his sensitive skin made Cecil tremble uncontrollably, his hands clenched tightly together.
Isri couldn't find a starting point, and his brow furrowed slightly.
"Young master, stand up." The devil's voice rang in my ears again.
Sehir suddenly opened his eyes and met Isri's gaze: "What did you say?"
Isri remained expressionless: "Young Master should have heard what I was saying."
Sehir's pupils trembled slightly as he looked at Isri in disbelief: "Can't you wash it the same way?"
Isri frowned. His young master was crossing his line again. Isri exhaled a heavy breath: "Young master, stand up."
Cecil took a step back, grabbing the edge of the bathtub: "I don't... Ah!"
Before he could finish speaking, Islam grabbed the exposed hand and lifted the person out of the bathtub, leaving only the lower leg still standing in the water.
Sehir was terrified, his legs thrashing about in the water, splashing water everywhere, and the hem of Isri's shirt was almost completely soaked.
Islam slapped Sehir in the lower back with a "smack," and Sehir cried out in pain, clenching his fists tightly.
“Young Master, you’re being too disobedient.” Isri pulled Cesil to his side, his eyes filled with coldness, and his voice was icy.
Sehir instinctively wanted to rebel against Isri; his rationality had been almost entirely replaced by impulse.
"Ugh...it hurts!" Cecil shuddered violently; he could feel that blood circulation in his wrist was severely restricted.
Isri's hands didn't stop moving; his slender fingers, lathered with foam, roamed over Cesil's body, his voice still indifferent: "If you behave, young master, it won't hurt so much."
Sehir had his head down, his hands firmly pinned above his head, and the flush on his cheeks made him feel like he was going crazy.
The two remained locked in this stalemate for a minute. Before Cecil could even quiet down for a few seconds, he suddenly raised his head, gritted his teeth, and excitedly opened his mouth: "Don't touch that!"
Isri's hand stopped at his lower back, and he raised his eyebrows to meet Cesil's gaze: "Shut up!"
Sehir hesitated for a moment, then, suppressing his fear, he opened his mouth and said, "Isri! I command you, release me!"
“Young Master, not today. You can punish me as you please tomorrow,” Isri said respectfully.
"You are disobeying your master's orders!" Cecil said angrily, his eyes wide.
Isri tilted his head, but was amused by the fear in Cesil's eyes. He didn't stop what he was doing and continued to walk down along the lower back.
"Young master, please allow me to disobey just this once."
Sehir was shocked that Isri would say such a thing. His eyes widened in disbelief, and his fear deepened.
"Isri, let me go, no! Put me down!" Sehir could already feel Isri's hands moving around his lower body.
Although Isri was deliberately avoiding dangerous areas, this provocation made Sesil's legs go weak instantly.
"Isri, let me go! Let me go!" Ceshir's eyes were completely filled with fear.
He didn't want to be filled with images of the massacre from back then, of himself covered in disgusting blood, of himself buried in a pile of corpses.
He didn't want to recall that scene; he didn't want to think about it again.
Cecil lowered his head, tears streaming down his face, his voice trembling: "Isri, don't touch me, let me go, I know I was wrong, let me go."
“Isri, I was wrong, I won’t do it again…” Sehir’s voice was very soft, and his hands trembled violently above his head.
Isri paused for a moment, loosened his grip, and gently placed Ceshir into the bathtub, a hint of reluctance flashing in his eyes.
As soon as Sehir entered the bathtub, he curled up in a corner and remained motionless, burying his head in his knees and hugging himself tightly.
Islam knelt down beside Sehir, raised his hand to brush the wet hair from Sehir's forehead, and softened his voice.
"Young master, it's time to rinse it clean."
Chapter Twenty-Three
Isri picked up the silver water jug beside him, its patterns intricate and ornate, and scooped up warm water to gently pour over Ceshir, who then hugged himself even tighter.
Warm water slid down the back of her neck, revealing a clear spine on her fair skin. Her wet golden hair hung down her arms, making her look like a delicate statue that had been soaked.
Isri pulled the man out of the bathtub, and before Cesil could resist, he was wrapped in a huge bath towel.
"Young Master, don't be nervous." Isri's voice finally softened as he dried his hair with a towel.
Sehir grabbed Isri's collar and rubbed his face haphazardly against Isri's white shirt.
Isri pulled the person on top of him up a little higher, and wrapped the towel around him even tighter.
When they put him on the bed, Isri was also taken aback. Ceshir's eyes were red, and his blue gem-like eyes looked like a pool of red water below, which made him look even more adorable.
Isri's shirt was soaked to the bone, and Cecil didn't dare to look up. Instead, he wrapped his towel tightly around himself and turned his head away.
However, due to the excessive force, it seemed to have aggravated the injured area, and Cecil gasped.
Isri bowed slightly and said in an elegant voice, "Young Master, please wait a moment."
When Cecil was about to turn around, Isri had already disappeared, leaving him alone on Noda's bed.
Before Isri arrived, Sehir climbed out of bed, took his pajamas from the hanger, and quickly put them over his head.
Just then, Isri pushed the door open and saw his young master stuck inside his pajamas, unable to peek out. He was frantic and flustered.
Isri's lips curled up slightly as he placed the things in his hand on the cabinet, walked up to Cesil, and gently pulled open the strap on his head. Suddenly, a huge golden head popped out from his collar.
Sehir was stunned for a second, staring wide-eyed at Isri. Isri, with a smile in his eyes, picked Sehir up from the ground, took the things from the cabinet, and placed him on the bed.
"What did you get?" Sehir asked, looking at the box-like object in Isri's hand.
Seeing this, Isri held the box up to Cesil and opened it, saying, "I've gone to get the medicine."
He paused. "Young master, give me your hand."
Sehir met Isri's eyes. Isri's clothes had been changed, and he was wearing white gloves again. Everything had returned to how it was at the beginning.