Islam always kept his word. From the moment he closed the door, he never came in again, not even a drop of water.
Sehir leaned against the cage, his eyes downcast and head tilted to the side. Several roses, woven from copper wire, were still on his snow-white robe, and iron chains, incongruous with the scene, encased his slender ankles.
The house was indeed very warm. Sessil stretched his legs out into the downy blankets, his calves still wrapped in gauze. He relaxed and lay down directly on the blankets.
Much warmer than the East Asian mainland...
Loman... Sesil gently closed his eyes; he didn't even get to see Loman one last time.
He was a completely useless, pampered, and arrogant nobleman who had been elevated to a high position by others.
This was God's punishment for him.
—
Sunlight squeezed through the gaps in the clouds, dappling the ground. Some believers knelt down, calling this light the "holy light of Jesus."
Isri stood by the window, slowly arranging the flowers in the vase. Her slender, porcelain-white fingers gently lifted the leaves and wiped away the water droplets that had fallen on them. Her eyes twitched imperceptibly, and a captivating smile appeared on her lips.
Disobedient birds need to be properly trained, otherwise this little pet will never submit to you.
Lying in the cage with nothing to do, Cecil turned to his side, opened his eyes, and picked up the roses from the blanket to look at them.
The copper wire is wrapped in an exceptionally delicate way. Upon closer inspection, it is different from the commercial roses sold in the market. This is a wild rose that grows on the mountaintop.
Sehir sat up, looked at the rose in his hand, and suddenly remembered something. The one in his hand was almost exactly the same as one of the roses he had picked for Isri last time.
Sehir raised the rose slightly, squinted at the dim light in front of him, a hint of disbelief flashing in his eyes, and his lips trembled slightly.
"How long have you been planning this?"
"Or did you intend to do this from the very beginning?"
As soon as he finished speaking, Sehir turned around and his gaze fell on Isri, who had just entered the room. Isri was carrying a tray and his expression remained unchanged. He closed the door, moved to the cage, squatted down, and took out a towel from the tray after wetting it.
"Young Master is so intelligent, I think such a simple question should not be difficult for you."
As he spoke, Isri reached the towel in his hand into the cage and opened his mouth: "Young master, it's evening, you should rest."
Sehir paused, staring at the tightly closed curtains.
It was already evening. Sehir quickly wiped his face a few times and handed the towel to Isri.
"See you tomorrow, young master."
Islam didn't say a word more than necessary. After finishing his business, he turned around and walked out.
Having lost all sense of time, Sesil was now completely unable to feel sleepy, so he lay bored on the blanket, playing with the roses on the ground.
After an unknown amount of time, his eyes finally started to feel sleepy. Cecil closed his eyes, holding a hastily tied rose in his hand, and slightly raised the corners of his lips.
It seems you can get impatient too, Islam.
—
"Good morning, young master." Isri still held the tray from last night, looking down at the person lying in the middle of the cage.
Because of his sleeping posture, Cesil's robe had ridden up to his thighs, revealing his long, straight legs to Isri without any concealment. His short golden hair was intertwined with the goose down on the ground.
This... is just like a noble, impure angel, an angel imprisoned by the demons of hell.
Before Cesil woke up, Isri frowned, turned around and took out the spare medicine box from the cabinet, opened the cage and leaned inside.
Upon hearing the noise, Sehir frowned and only opened his eyes after a long while. When he saw Isri, he instantly sprang to his feet and hurriedly pulled his clothes down.
Seeing this, Isri reached out and grabbed Cesil's ankle, pulling him back.
"Young master, your toiletries are on the left. I'll help you change your dressing."
Islam recounted the events in a calm tone, but the strength in his hands was quite the opposite.
Sehir regained his senses, glanced at Isri, turned to the side and slowly wiped his face with a towel. Excess water droplets from the towel seeped into the dry, cracked areas between his lips, causing Sehir to gasp in pain.
With a dry and sore throat, Sehir stared at Isri with wide eyes, telling him that it was absolutely impossible for him to beg the man in front of him!
How could he possibly beg Islam... Although he had begged before, this time the situation was completely different, and he refused!
Isri looked up and met Ceshir's gaze, a barely perceptible smile appearing on his lips once more.
It seems that this little bird still doesn't understand its current situation.
Islam moved slowly, admiring this work of art created by God—smooth, white, and flawless, even its slightest injury was alluring.
However... the desire in Isri's eyes subsided slightly.
However, this artwork is a bit dirty...
"Has today's newspaper been delivered?" Sehir suddenly interrupted the tense silence between the two.
"It's been delivered."
"I want to see."
"Yes, young master, please wait a moment, I'll go get it."
Isri stood up, turned around and walked out. It was then that Cesil noticed something was wrong.
Since being brought back, Isri has not bowed at all. The Isri who used to perform rituals even after meals has now lost even the most basic manner of bowing.
Sehir stared at the doorway, a chill running through him, but it was quickly suppressed by Isri standing in the doorway.
Isley remained expressionless, handing the newspaper to Cecil, and then knelt down to tend to the wound on his calf again.
The article contained mostly trivial matters, mostly civil disputes. The only noteworthy item was the matter of the church's son. Looking at Cecil, who was being mythologized in the newspaper, gave me a headache.
Those pedantic people...
Just when I thought it was nothing serious and was about to put the newspaper aside, my peripheral vision caught a line of text on the back of the newspaper.
Sehir tensed up and quickly opened the newspaper, staring wide-eyed at the top, the most eye-catching line of large characters.
"The Queen invited the Cretis family to a party, but they were refused." Cecil looked down; the date was exactly yesterday.
Sehir frowned, a flash of anger in his eyes, threw the newspaper aside, and shouted at Isri.
?
A note from the author:
Sessil has a self-destructive tendency in his subconscious, which has been foreshadowed earlier, so he doesn't care too much about being locked in a cage. He's just scared for a moment and then it's over. Everything I wrote is based on reason and evidence, not fabricated out of thin air.
Chapter 86
"Are you crazy! If I'm found out, that's a capital offense!"
Sehir had never lost his temper like this before. He practically yelled at Isri, his hands trembling as he gripped the goose down on the ground.
Isri didn't seem to care. He raised his head and met Ceshir's gaze. After a moment, he lowered his head again and finished bandaging the last piece of gauze.
“Then I’m willing to die with you, young master.” Isri’s thin lips parted slightly, his voice indifferent, and he looked up to meet Cecil’s gaze again: “Young master, from now on, you are mine, and no one can touch you!”
Cecil's eyes trembled, his upper teeth biting his lower lip tightly, and his breathing became somewhat disordered.
Isri was serious. Ceshir gradually loosened his grip, his voice changing from excitement to calm as he looked at Isri.
"You're a complete madman."
Isri looked Ceshir up and down, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. He stood up, chuckled, locked the cage, closed the door, and left.
The little thing is still very stubborn, but in a few days, he believes it will definitely give in.
Islam leaned against the door, a hint of smugness flashing in his eyes, but his emotions were overshadowed by layers of desire.
Still angry, Sesil threw the roses beside him away, but a sudden struggle in his stomach pulled him back to reality.
He was hungry and thirsty.
As expected, Isri never leaves any room for maneuver in his actions. To conserve his strength, Sehir lay back down on the ground.
Since that's the case, Sehir relaxed his body, slowly opened his eyes, looked up at the ceiling, and remained motionless.
Isri wouldn't let him die, so he would fight Isri to the end. Ceshir closed his eyes again.
He is the one in charge.
—
But he miscalculated all of this.
Because all food and water were cut off, the cage was Ceshir's only place to stay. Isri managed to endure it, as he would only bring him toiletries every morning and evening. Moreover, the towels were wrung out completely.
Day after day, three days passed in the blink of an eye. In his room, Sehir could only tell whether it was morning or night. These three days were torture for him, even more so than not knowing the time.
Having not drunk a drop of water, his lips were cracked in places, and his throat felt like it was on fire. Cecil lay on the blanket, and his breathing sounded even more distinct.
Isri clearly knew that if a person didn't eat, they could hold out for a long time, even longer, but it was obvious that the demon couldn't wait that long; he wanted the little bird to feel the threat of death.
Isri glanced at Ceshir lying in the cage, a slight twitch at the corner of his lips, then closed the door again and walked out, deliberately delaying the process by another day.
He's about to die.
The next day, Sehir huddled by the cage, his vision blurring, and he had no strength left; all he could manage was a hissing sound.
Isri pushed open the door, and on the tray, besides the towels he had used for washing up in the morning, there was a glass of water, which, for Sehir, meant it could save his life.
Hearing the rattling of the chains, Sehir remained lying motionless on the ground. Isri made no further sound, pulled Sehir up from the ground, and laid him on his side on his lap.
"Young master, can you still hold back?" Isri asked seductively. "I've brought the water."
When he heard the word "water," Sehir's eyes lit up a little, but he still didn't move.
Isri freed one hand to pull Sehir along, and with the other hand poured some water from the cup onto his fingertips, then gently wiped it on Sehir's lips.
His lips, stimulated by the sensation, were like parched land greedily consuming the last drop of nectar. Ignoring the cracked wounds on his lips, Cecil frowned and unconsciously licked his lips with his tongue.
“If you don’t say anything, young master, I’m leaving.” Isri’s eyes lingered on his lips, which were gradually turning slightly pink.
Sehir felt as if his mind was a complete mess. He knew he shouldn't underestimate Isri; how could he possibly take the words of a madman lightly?
“I…” Cecil opened his eyes: “Please…”
He'd die if he didn't do something... Cecil told himself, tightening his grip on Isri's clothes with a slight effort.
"Young master, I can't hear you." Isri's eyes gleamed with amusement as he gently opened his mouth near Ceshir's ear.
Sesil frowned, his dry lips parting again: "I...beg you...water..."