If Cesil were to wake up, how would he face him? Isri frowned. He didn't know, and he didn't even know how to say the first thing.
Isri clenched his fists tighter. If Cesil didn't wake up, he was willing to go anywhere with Cesil.
But would the supreme God allow such a filthy man to enter the gate? He deserves to live in the dark and hopeless hell.
Isri raised his head slightly, rested it gently against the wall, and closed his eyes.
After a while, a towel was suddenly thrown on his face. Islam paused for a moment, took the towel off his face, and looked at the person who came in.
Hall put the cup on the table, glanced at Isri, and said, "Drink some hot water after you're done wiping yourself. If you get a fever too, I won't give you any medicine here."
As she spoke, she bent down and pulled the blanket over Cecil up a little, a hint of heartache showing in her eyes.
"I shouldn't have left in the first place."
Islam pulled back the towel in his hand and opened his mouth: "I'm sorry about earlier."
Hall turned around, his hair gray, but the sharp look in his eyes did not weaken: "Sorry? You shouldn't have said that to me."
Holden paused for a moment and then said, "Don't be so polite to you now. I've said it before, if the young master doesn't wake up, I will definitely not let you off the hook."
Isri raised an eyebrow, propped himself up to stand, met Hall's gaze, and said firmly, "I know, you don't need to lift a finger, I'll take care of it myself."
Hall's eyes showed a hint of emotion. He turned around and looked at the person lying on the bed: "So you do have some loyalty after all."
“I do have sincerity.” In the quiet room, Isri opened his mouth, and the surrounding air seemed to freeze suddenly, and the burning candlelight seemed to stop flickering.
"But my love for the young master is greater than my loyalty to him."
"What did you say?" Hall turned around, his face darkening.
Isri made no attempt to hide anything, his gaze, filled with guilt, fell upon Cesil, and his thin lips parted slightly.
“I love you, young master. No, I should say I love Cecil, Kritis Cecil.”
Hall's face darkened more and more as he listened, and his beard trembled with anger.
"You know what nonsense you're spouting!" Hall gritted his teeth, but dared not raise his voice, and could only suppress his anger.
“I know.” Isri’s tone was soft, showing no fear of the person in front of him who was about to lose control of his anger.
"If they find out, that's a death sentence!" Hall clenched his fists even tighter.
Isri raised an eyebrow twice, then looked back at the person on the bed. At this point, the matter was almost negligible.
But he loves Cecil, and now he must answer Hall's question!
"I won't let them know."
After Isri finished speaking, Hall couldn't help himself and punched Isri in the face with all his might.
Immediately, Isri staggered back a few steps, a few drops of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth and falling to the floor. Before he could recover, Hall grabbed Isri by the collar, his eyes twitching as if he were furious.
"Who do you think you are? Young Master doesn't know the Queen's temperament, do you? Do you think you can decide this?" Hall roared in a low voice.
Isri raised his hand and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. His amber eyes wavered slightly in the flickering candlelight. Finally, he lowered his head and opened his mouth weakly.
“But I love the young master.” That aloof and defiant Cretis.
"Love?" Hall seemed to have heard the joke of the century, a hint of disdain flashing in his eyes: "Isn't it your fault that the young master has become like this? Is this your expression of love?"
Islam paused, head bowed, mouth slightly open, and after a long while, finally managed to squeeze out a single word: "I..."
However, the next second, Hall countered.
“Isri, you are nothing but something Kritis picked up! A lowly slave who can only forever submit to his master! What right do you have to say such things?”
Isri stood there, feeling as if he weighed a ton. Hall was right; he was just a lowly person, a slave who only needed to obey his master.
Seeing that Isri had stopped moving, Hall angrily slammed his hand down and said without any politeness, "You better not say another word, or a bullet will go right through your head!"
Just a few minutes after Hall left, the boy who had opened the door earlier quietly lifted the curtain and came in.
When he met Isri's gaze, he was startled and quickly put what he was holding on the table, whispering.
"Eat something."
After hurriedly finishing speaking, he rushed out. He had never seen his master so angry before; the person inside must be extraordinary.
Isri moved stiffly to the table and sat down, turning his head to look at Sehir.
What right does he have to stay by Cecil's side now? If it were anyone else, he would have been executed a thousand times over.
-
The candles burned out one by one, the hot water on the table stopped steaming, and the wet hair was almost dry.
But the person on the bed remained motionless. Isri wanted to reach out and touch them, but he stopped in mid-air, afraid to move forward. He was afraid that the person on the bed would show a terrified expression again.
"Hey!" Hall lifted the curtain and walked in, his anger undiminished: "The rain has stopped outside, get out."
Isri raised his dry head, stood up, and did not refuse Hall. When he reached the door, he turned back to look at Cecil.
"good."
As he spoke, he took a step out, and as soon as he stepped out the door, Hall slammed the door shut behind him.
Isri was startled when he saw the carriage ahead. He had been running so fast yesterday that he had completely forgotten about the carriage. Hall not only brought the carriage back, but also bandaged up the horse's wound.
Sitting in front of the car, I couldn't help but glance back. The seat was empty; there was nothing there.
Isri turned around, gently flicked his whip, and the sunlight squeezed through the gaps in the clouds. The water splashed on the ground by the horses landed on the back of his hand, feeling cool.
The return journey was slow; Islam let the horse wander along the road, stopping and starting as it pleased. By the time they reached the woods, the sun was almost setting.
Even though he was going very slowly, he still had to come back, back to this home without Ceshir. Isri gripped the reins tightly, then loosened them as if exhausted after a while.
As we passed through the woods, in addition to the sound of horses trotting on the ground, we also heard the clanging of metal plates.
Isri's brow twitched slightly. He loosened the reins and straightened his clothes a little.
Chapter 116
As they got closer, they realized it was the Queen's carriage, followed by no fewer than ten soldiers.
Isri deliberately walked slower, waiting for the Queen and the others to go inside before following behind and parking the carriage in the garden.
The soldier noticed the movement behind him and stopped his attempt to knock on the door, waiting for the people in the car to get off.
Islam wiped the weariness from his face, got off the carriage, and went to the soldier at the front, bowing respectfully.
"What brings the Queen here today?"
The soldier glanced at Isri, then stepped aside to make room for the people behind him. The servant standing in front of the carriage opened the door and respectfully greeted the people inside.
The Queen's long black dress was the first thing that caught the eye, and her face was still covered by the veil that always hung on her ears. When Islam looked at the Queen, he bowed even lower.
The Queen walked up to Isli, glanced at him from head to toe, and said with disdain, "How did you end up in such a sorry state?"
Isri raised an eyebrow, took a step back, and apologized, "I'm sorry, Your Majesty, it was raining earlier, and I didn't have time to get back."
"Where is Duke Cretis?" The Queen didn't seem to care what Isri was saying; her eyes were already scanning her surroundings.
“Young Master is out on business and won’t be home for the next few days.” Isri’s tone was calm, showing no sign of panic.
The Queen's gaze fell on Isri, and she chuckled softly, "The Duke's affairs are certainly very busy."
Isri kept his head down and didn't speak until the Queen walked up to him, at which point his voice came down from above: "The Duke has refused to see me more than once."
A flicker of panic crossed Isri's eyes, but he steadied his voice and said, "Young Master has indeed been busy with matters at the Chamber of Commerce recently. I will report to Young Master the truth when he returns."
Then, as if letting out a disdainful laugh, the Queen narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth.
"Lift your head up."
Isri dared not disobey and slowly raised his head to meet the Queen's gaze.
The Queen raised an eyebrow, scrutinized him closely, then reached out and pinched Isri's chin, her voice softening: "Would you like to consider becoming my servant? Or perhaps a personal male servant would be fine too."
Isri was clearly taken aback by the Queen's words, and quickly took a step back before opening his mouth: "I can't offer Your Majesty anything."
"I don't need you to do anything, just stay by my side," the Queen replied.
Isri lowered his head, his brows furrowing even deeper. He hesitated for a long time before finally speaking: "I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but the young master has many matters to attend to here."
"Just like your master." The Queen tilted her head and glanced at the carriage behind Isri. "Since the Duke isn't here, I'll come again next time. I hope the Duke will come out in person next time."
Isri didn't speak until he heard the carriage leave, then he straightened up his bent back.
—
Back in his room, Isri collapsed onto the bed in a daze, his temples throbbing with pain. He closed his eyes, as if he could see Ceshir disappearing before his eyes, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't catch him.
Like being tormented, I couldn't fall asleep in bed, and I even had faint dark circles under my eyes. The next day, before the sun had even risen, Ishmael was already tidied up and standing downstairs.
Having not slept a wink all night, he looked even more haggard than yesterday. After tidying himself up, Isri raised his whip and headed towards his destination.
Whether from nervousness or exhaustion, Isri stood at the door with slightly disordered breathing. Once he had completely calmed down, he gently knocked on the door.
The same boy opened the door, and upon seeing Isri, he immediately called out to his master.
Hall emerged from the room, glanced at Isri, and then looked away: "Didn't I tell you to go back inside?"
Isri leaned into the room and glanced at the room hidden by the curtain: "Is the young master awake?"
Hall fiddled with the medicine in his hand, responding to Isri's words.
"No, besides, if the young master wakes up, do you think he'd want to see you?"
Isri gritted his teeth, a hint of desolation flashing in his eyes, before finally opening his lips after a long while: "May I go in and take a look?"
The next second, Hall pulled out a revolver from somewhere, pointed it at Israel, and his tone changed from disdain to anger.
"Do you think I don't know what you did to the young master? Get out of here and never let me see you again!"
Hall's eyes widened as he glared at Isri, his hand holding the gun trembling slightly.
"Get out!" Hall roared.
Islam frowned, a hint of restraint and guilt in his eyes. The two remained locked in a stalemate for more than a minute before Islam finally shuffled out of the door.
-
For several days in a row, Islam knocked on the door every day, but without exception, Hall chased him out with a gun each time.
But Isri persisted, coming every day as long as Hall disagreed. This continued for many days, and the only constant was that Cecil still hadn't woken up.