Chapter 142

The lady smells so good! How can someone smell as good as an Omega?

Cynthia felt as if he were enveloped in a cloud of roses. He had never embraced anyone so tenderly before. The moment he saw Michael, he longed to be close to him, but the lady would not believe him, given his terrible reputation.

He hugged her for a while, then felt he should be pushed away; he hugged her a little longer, then felt he should be pushed away again.

But none of them.

The lady's voice was as cold as her hands, and the bedroom still smelled of blood. He lifted Cynthia's chin, looked her up and down, and asked with a melancholy look in his eyes, "Who exactly are you?"

Cynthia wiped her red nose, her eyes still brimming with tears, and said, "Madam, what are you saying? I am Cynthia."

The lady smiled and said, "Cynthia, do you know who he is?"

Cynthia looked innocent: "I don't know, but if an Alpha barged into an Omega's room and... stripped like that, in my hometown, he would be drowned in a pig cage."

Michael hit Cynthia with his folding fan: "You're talking nonsense again. Where would you find such a crude custom? Let go of me now."

Cynthia gave a pitiful "oh," let go of his hand, rubbed her apron, walked to Alpha's side, and covered him with the sheet.

Mrs. Michael opened the window, dispersing the scent of Alpha pheromones and blood from the room. He leaned against the windowsill, watching the setting sun slowly sink behind the mountains, bathing Keaton Manor in its afterglow.

The lady's profile was as beautiful as a painting, and most importantly, Cynthia saw a faint smile on the lady's lips.

How beautiful! Is there any way to keep such a smile forever?

Cynthia couldn't help but follow. White roses climbed all over the fence outside the window, their petals falling on the grass. Inside the house, whips, blades, candles, and other indescribable things were scattered all over the ground.

Michael said, "Cynthia, talk to me about Will."

When the Duke died, Michael's past was buried with him, but no one remembered him, not even Michael.

Cynthia, clutching his apron, leaned gently against the lady, getting closer and closer, and said carefully, "It has to start with me."

The lady glanced at him and nodded. Cynthia then cleared her throat and said, “My father was a tailor and my mother was a horse driver in the village. I have three older brothers and two younger sisters. My family has always been very poor and we often went hungry. Later, my father sold me to the city to work as a maid.”

"Of my six siblings, only I was sold because I was good-looking and therefore more valuable."

He was a little depressed and scratched his head: "Well, anyway, when I got to the city, I worked day and night and still went hungry. In order to have enough to eat, I was tricked by an Alpha, had a child, and then met the Duke."

“At that time, I had almost saved enough money to redeem myself, but the Duke bought me here. He paid too much money, and I couldn’t afford to pay him back.”

"And because I am not a person of status, he treats me badly. He will beat me in front of Dickin, sometimes just because the food is not to my liking."

"He has a bad temper."

"And many, many, many lovers."

He seemed unaware that the woman before him was the Duke's wife, and unabashedly echoed her bad words until Lady Michael tapped him on the head with her folding fan: "Use honorifics."

Cynthia, her eyes red from the beating, said, "But I'm not a nobleman. That's just how I talk."

Lady Michael choked. He just felt that Cynthia had no respect for the Duke. There should be basic etiquette for a deceased person... But hadn't he himself been late for Will's funeral? Michael chuckled. He looked at Cynthia's aggrieved expression, reached out and gently brushed the spot where Cynthia had been tapped by the folding fan.

Cynthia's eyes lit up, and she pointed to her face: "Madam, it hurts here too."

Michael "..."

What exactly is wrong with this "O"?

Cynthia sighed, "Madam."

Michael moved closer to Cynthia, his cool hair brushing against her cheek. Cynthia straightened up quickly like a squirrel, her eyes widening.

Michael whispered in his ear, "The person you knocked unconscious today is the king's own brother. Even if Will comes back to life, he himself will have to kneel before this man. Tell me, when he wakes up, which of you two will sink into the lake first?"

Cynthia burst into tears, hugging Michael tightly, her cheeks flushed with emotion: "Madam...you...you've been so good to me..."

Michael's slightly mocking expression froze, utterly bewildered. He said in a harsh tone, "Hmph, I never said I would choose to help you."

Cynthia exclaimed, her expression conflicted: "Then, I... I'll go by myself. But Madam, please pretend you didn't see anything, okay?"

Michael, who had intended to scare him: "..."

He simply didn't know what to say to Cynthia; where did this idiot Omega come from?

Michael snapped his folding fan shut and raised his chin: "Fine, for Will's sake, you can leave."

Cynthia shook her head in horror, hugging Michael: "No, that Alpha isn't dead yet. It's too dangerous for you to be in the same room with him, Madam. I'm very useful. I can knock him out with one kick, like kicking a bag of corn."

Michael was embraced by the soft, white flower: "Madam, let me stay with you. I can help you, Madam."

He seemed oblivious to the mess of tools scattered on the ground; his eyes were filled with worry for Michael.

Look.

He didn't think it was Michael's fault.

Michael's father said, "Blame it on how you look. If you were a normal Omega, you wouldn't have gotten into trouble."

Those Alphas said, "Madam, do you dare say you have no feelings? You do it better than anyone else; you were born to do it."

Will pulled him out of the mire and told him that Keaton Manor would be our home from now on, and no one would force him to do anything anymore. But later, he did not hesitate to give up Michael for the title, saying, "Michael, go ahead, I don't mind. Go and keep those nobles company."

When Michael left Keaton Manor in his carriage, he did not entirely expect Michael to show up.

But no, the fairy's magic ended at midnight, and Michael's beautiful dream only lasted for three months.

He's been alone ever since.

The father was more concerned with how many influential people he could bring along, while his siblings knew nothing about him.

That's just how he is.

Day after day.

Day after day.

Year after year.

This time seems to have no end.

He was already exhausted. Because of his looks and charisma, he had received much admiration. But those feelings were too fragile, always faltering and abandoned at the last moment. In fact, Michael couldn't ask anyone else to do what even his closest family couldn't.

He sighed inwardly and said coldly to Cynthia, "Go. You need to leave here. I will handle the rest. I promise you, you will not be harmed in my manor."

Cynthia shook her head: "This is not about making a promise or not."

Cynthia was serious. He would have looked even more serious if he had loosened his grip on the lady, but Cynthia didn't want to at all: "When I was most helpless, no one gave me any advice. I got through it all alone, lady. I will not leave you if you cannot find someone to accompany you."

Michael's eyelashes trembled, and after a moment he snorted coldly: "Glib-tongued and annoying."

Cynthia: "QAQ".

...

When the young Alpha woke up, the room was already quite dark.

His head was throbbing with pain, dried blood was congealed on his cheeks, and he felt as if he had fallen off a horse. He moved his fingers with difficulty and opened his eyes.

It has a faint aroma of wine and roses.

Lady Omega, dressed in a long dress, was sipping wine and admiring a book of poetry by candlelight, her legs crossed.

Alpha struggled to sit up, his face grim.

But seeing the Omega's increasingly cold and alluring beauty under the light, he couldn't help but swallow hard, staring at her for a long time before softening his voice: "Madam, don't you want to give me a reasonable explanation?"

Michael put down his wine glass, leaned back, and rested his chin on his hand. A pair of soft, white hands gently massaged his shoulders, making him appear even more domineering.

Michael said coldly, "You're the one who's being shameless, and you're also the one who should be held accountable."

Alpha almost laughed in anger: "Are you joking with me? This has never happened before... It seems to me that you want to kill me."

Michael's voice was even colder: "Is that so? So what?"

In an instant, Alpha's anger burned as if it were tangible: "Madame Michael, please don't forget the agreement, and you won't forget your family, will you?"

Michael remained silent. Alpha, holding Michael's lifeline in his grasp, stood up slowly with a smug look on his face and walked to Michael's side: "And Will, don't you care about his reputation either?"

Alpha held Michael between his arms, looking down at the tall and beautiful Omega. Michael stared at him quietly for a while, his gaze indifferent. The black rose folding fan pressed down on his shoulder, slowly pushing him down.

Alpha's breathing was a little rapid. He obediently knelt at Michael's feet, just like at the start of every game.

He hadn't had a proper catharsis in a long time.

He thought Michael had changed his mind, and that the hurt was negligible. He needed both mental and physical release more than physical pain.

But Omega lifted his chin and said, "Whatever, I don't care."

Alpha's pupils contracted, and a faint smile appeared on Michael's lips.

...

The lights flickered slightly.

The room had been cleaned spotlessly. Michael had taken a bath and was about to go to sleep when there was a sudden knock on the door.

Cynthia walked in carrying the medicine prepared by the doctor. Michael wasn't surprised that it was him again. He was too lazy to pay attention to Cynthia, picked up his cup to drink, but Cynthia grabbed his hand.

Michael: It doesn't seem surprising that he suddenly touched me...

Cynthia said, "Madam, drinking too much poppy milk is bad for your health."

Michael's face was filled with cold indifference and disdain: "So you're a doctor now?"

Cynthia took the glass of milk away without giving him a chance to refuse: "I know a little bit about this, but treating insomnia with just this won't do."

He turned around, gently pulled Michael into the bed, and then pulled a book out from under his belly: "I'll tell you a bedtime story."

Michael: "Servants are not allowed to go to bed."

Cynthia pouted and reluctantly sat down in the chair.

Michael: "And you can't get too close to me either."

Cynthia looked at the chair, took a step back, and then threw herself next to Michael, opening the book: "Alright, alright, let's start the story."

Michael: "Your pheromones are jasmine. I can't sleep when I smell jasmine."

Cynthia: "Madam..."

Michael covered his forehead with his hand, and after a long while, he put his hands together on his abdomen, his face indifferent: "Fine, go ahead and tell me."

Cynthia: "~"