Chapter 3

08

The palace slumbered, and the laurel tree cast long, blue shadows on the cool, smooth steps.

Kliger leaped over the wall quickly and silently.

The path leading to the rear courtyard of the royal bedchamber is paved with cobblestones in a black and white checkerboard pattern.

He didn't understand why his master wanted him to go to the bedroom at night, discreetly.

But being driven is his honor; he only needs to obey orders.

It's a nice day.

The sky was filled with bright, shining stars.

He was satisfied yesterday.

Solan's delicate fingers had only lightly touched his skin, but he still felt it and could savor it for days.

inside the house.

A single lamp burns alone.

The imperial bed, made of cedar wood, is supported by a canopy resembling a flower stand at its four corners. Pure gold grapevines twine around it, adorned with numerous fruits made of gemstones, and even the finest tendrils are carved with lifelike detail.

Inside the gilded bronze lamp, tiny blue flames, like budding flowers, flickered.

It rose and fell like breathing.

"Owner."

"Krigg said."

The brocade cashmere rug with mink trim arched up, revealing a person.

Solan wasn't wearing her usual pajamas, but rather a sleeveless long robe. The style was old-fashioned, yet still elegant.

Has anyone spotted you?

"As you wish, no."

“Very good,” he beckoned, “Come here. Come to my side.”

Kriego stopped beside the bed.

He couldn't help but be distracted. Solan exuded a fresh scent after her bath, looking incredibly clean, almost like a bride's cotton wedding dress.

"sit down."

Solan added.

I never expected this. Krigo was taken aback.

Solan's obsession with cleanliness was as famous as his love of beauty; he would refuse to wear clothes even if they were slightly dirty. His room was cleaned four times a day, and the tables and chairs could not be covered in a speck of dust, otherwise he would be severely punished.

A hollowed-out lamp hung from between the rafters, unlit, its light flickering in Krigor's suddenly contracted pupils.

He said awkwardly and thirstily, “Master, I’m dirty. I just climbed over the wall. My sleeves are covered in dust and dew.”

"It's alright. I'll let you come over."

Solan gave the order again, already somewhat annoyed.

Kliger had only been sitting down tremblingly for a short while.

Solan suddenly snuggled into his arms. They fit him perfectly; the enormous body of his was like a perfectly proportioned chair.

Birds outside the window, seemingly out of nowhere, took flight in a startled manner.

Krigo's face flushed, and his muscles stiffened like iron. Regaining his senses, he immediately mustered all his willpower to prevent the parasitic creature from offending its master.

"Are you... are you not sleeping well?"

"Ugh, my head hurts."

"Let me massage it for you. Here? Or here?"

"Three inches down."

He had held Solan several times.

The first time was when I was seventeen.

When soldiers are out on campaign, there are times when it's inconvenient to make a bed. He was thick-skinned, so he became his master's mattress. — That was the first time he was slapped.

Solan asked, "Do you know what that thing standing up on you is?"

He shook his head guiltily.

I actually know.

As a child, he often saw various animals in heat mating in the wild.

By the way, today is the Flower Festival.

To show their devotion to God, it is estimated that at this very moment, many men and women are engaged in procreation.

He loved his owner's slender body and sweet fragrance, and his greatest wish was to be close to his owner like a dog or a child.

He is no longer a child, so he can only be like a dog.

No one is worthy to possess God. But God may show favoritism to certain people.

He longed to be the one chosen.

That's all.

Solan sensed his movement.

But there was no next step. I couldn't help but feel irritated.

What else do you want?

Isn't that seductive enough?

"I'm thirsty, go get me a glass of rose milk tea."

To mask the taste of the aphrodisiac added, Solan mixed in most of a jar of honey and milk, making it cloyingly sweet.

He touched the outside of his lips with his hand and said, "You drank the rest, didn't you?"

"oh."

Kligor was already nervous, so he tilted his head back and drank the whole pot of rose milk in a few gulps, which disappeared deep into his throat.

Solan's eyelid twitched slightly.

Just in case, he administered enough medicine to have an effect on an elephant.

After doing all this.

He leaned against the headboard, relaxed and unbuttoned his collar slightly.

A delicate collarbone can hold the finest wine. A patch of pale, delicate skin on her chest is incredibly tender, with pale blue veins that resemble the tendrils of a shady plant, spreading out subtly and gracefully.

He stared intently at Krieg.

With her dark blue eyes, when she looks at people like that, it seems as if only her big eyes remain on her small face, leaving no place for anyone to hide.

Krieg's eyes were turning red.

Three, two, one.

He counted down in his mind.

The next second.

He was pressed backward, his shirt torn open, revealing a sickly, eerie body that spilled like splattered cream onto the scarlet bed.

09

Before the age of eight.

Little Solan would often sneak into his mother's bed like a young snake.

Tightly wrapped in soft wool and the scent of a woman, it's like turning back into a baby and hiding in the warm and safe womb.

He loved it.

Krieg's chest could also arch up enough space for him to fit.

The embrace was incredibly tight, her arms like the tentacles of a giant octopus, tearing and pulling him ever tighter in her arms.

But this guy was hot and sticky. In no time, he looked like he'd been pulled from water, drenched in sweat with a strong odor. Large beads of sweat dripped down like rain. Although it didn't smell bad, it still gave him the illusion of being marked.

Solan's harem remains empty to this day, for no other reason than that he is unable to handle the sexual pleasures.

He was so weak that he could hardly bear even the intensity of sex.

Close your eyes.

When he couldn't see, he would sometimes clearly see Krigor pressing down on him, and other times he would feel that it was an unfamiliar monster.

As a child, he was often dragged out of his mother's bed by his uncle in the middle of the night.

My uncle was always drunk, naked, his flesh soaked in alcohol, stinking to high heaven. He would curse, "You little bastard, just like your deadbeat father, a born thief, stealing other people's treasures! I should kill you, I should kill you!"

Little Solan was grabbed by the neck and lifted into the air, his legs flailing.

Mom screamed.

When I sobered up.

His uncle would occasionally tease him.

There were times.

He was teaching his puppy to walk around in the garden.

It was a mastiff, with a long, dark brown mane and an endearingly clumsy appearance. It was also quite large; even as a puppy, it was taller than its young owner. Most importantly, it was intelligent. After only three days of training, it understood all kinds of commands, biting the neck but never the arm, and its barking was incredibly majestic.

The uncle mocked, "What an ugly dog! Is it a mongrel, just like you?"

He added, "How about I buy you a new, beautiful purebred dog? It's embarrassing to take such an ugly dog ​​out."

"No! I just love my dog!"

Little Solan hugged the dog's neck protectively, glaring fiercely at his uncle.

Those with a firm attitude are determined to fight to the death.

The uncle grumbled as he left: "Disobedient little beast. I almost thought I was your father."

However, his puppy still didn't grow up.

The head was thrown away, and the body was chopped up and stewed into a pot of meat soup.

His uncle told him this only after he had drunk half a bowl.

Little Solan held the silver spoon, stunned for a moment.

The uncle laughed and said, "Good child, you can't waste food." He then asked, "Are you going to cry, little beauty?"

He didn't cry.

He thought of the puppy's wet, docile black eyes as he ate every last drop of soup from the plate.

The law of the jungle prevails; everyone will die.

He understood then.

Later, my uncle and his dog died in the same way, their heads were cut off separately, skinned, preserved, dried, and then nailed to a sealed basement in their old home.

No one but him could find it.

It is said that this will prevent one from being reborn for eternity.

But he still often thinks about that dog.

He was the first and last, and only, loyal subject in the world.

In a panic, Solan covered his mouth with both hands.

Krigo kept moving closer, kissing and licking the back of his hand; it was very itchy, and his saliva was everywhere.

He held his breath for a short while before having to release it to breathe.

Their lips were immediately pressed together, moistened.

The tongue forcefully pushed its way in, not with a gentle kiss, but with a sticky, intense, deep kiss, sucking and licking every tender inch of flesh in the mouth.

My ears exploded with a loud buzzing sound.

That bastard dared to kiss him?!

But he could no longer break free; it had nothing to do with royal power, but this time brute force was dominating.

Even though it was his own plan, this unexpected surge of sexual desire still instinctively frightened him.

He felt like a piece of raw meat being devoured by wild dogs that hadn't eaten for who knows how long.

Krigo was delirious and had no time to speak, preoccupied with frantically kissing the smooth person in his arms, but every passionate breath seemed to be calling out: Master, my master.

The blood was burning, like boiling water.

He was confused, impatient, and searching for a place to go as a man.

A short while later.

We finally found it.

Yes.

Solan understood that once the ritual began, there was no way to escape.

To sacrifice Krieg, one must first sacrifice himself.

He had seen it all, and he was well-versed in the theories.

We have made full preparations.

Even with the most thorough preparation, unexpected events can still occur.

Surprisingly, it hurt.

He hadn't expected it to hurt so much; it felt like his internal organs were being squeezed out of his body. He had thought he had long since become resistant to the disease.

Many years later, he still remembered that overwhelming sense of injustice and anger.

He scratched his back with his fingernails and bit down on Krieg's shoulder. The latter didn't utter a sound, only hissing in a rough or shallow breath.

Tears streamed down my face.

All right.

Be patient.

How can someone who aspires to great things lack even this much patience?

Solan's lips trembled, and his pupils involuntarily dilated, spreading in circles like folds of soft satin, penetrating his blue iris.

After shaking for a long time, his dark pupils finally focused.

He pulled a dagger from under his pillow.

I fumbled around, unsure of where my heart was.

Behind Krieg.

Raise it high.

Just as the knife was about to fall.

The chilling killing intent made Krigo instinctively turn around and snatch it away.

In the blink of an eye, the dagger, barely the length of a palm, was in Krieg's hands. After all, he was an expert in all kinds of weapons.

Krieg saw what was in his hand and froze.

"sorry."

"You do indeed harbor rebellious intentions!"

The two spoke almost simultaneously.

"..."

It's over.

Solan felt his blood run cold.

He collapsed backward, exhausted, onto the velvet cloth. Unable to hold back any longer, he trembled violently and coughed up blood.

Krigor's strong, massive, and deformed body remained firmly embedded in him, as if locking him in. Then, he straightened up, casting a terrifying shadow. An unseen, surging aura seemed to churn around him.

Are you going to ask me why I killed you?

Ask away.

The victor is king, the loser is villain.

but.

...Krigg didn't ask anything.

She gazed at him for a moment with deep, sorrowful eyes, then suddenly made a move again.

Solan sobbed, turning his face away: "Alright, get out of here!"

Krieg, holding his shoulders, had made up his mind. As he poured the water to its deepest point, he said, "I would die for you, master. But please remember me forever."

Then, he calmly slit his own throat.

He didn't know what Solan was planning.

In short, he needs to give his life.

You can just tell me directly.

Owner.

How could I possibly disobey you?

In fact, he noticed something was wrong as soon as he entered the palace yesterday.

The smell of blood was so strong, and it was his master's blood. How could he not have smelled it?

He had already checked it when no one was around.

The wooden board was painted with blood and medicine as pigments, depicting a bizarre and complex totem that looked almost like an altar.

He committed suicide extremely violently.

Hot blood gushed out, splattering all over the bed.

In an instant, the sacrificial patterns were saturated with the blood of the holy descendants.

The light was very bright.