Chapter 50 Chapter 50 "So... do you like me...
152.
Who would have thought that Gin was such a principled person?
After waking up, just by looking at the lingering, ambiguous pink marks on my body, I knew that everything that happened last night was real. Furthermore, my wrists still felt a little sore, but my legs were fine...
After all, I didn’t really eat it…
Gin and I did drink alcohol yesterday, but it was homemade Christmas eggnog, which had such a low alcohol content that it was almost indistinguishable from a drink to trained eyes like him and me.
Well, to be exact...
The wine we drank that day was not enough to move us.
But Gin really scared me.
It's not that he can't do it! He's just very patient!
And! So… awesome…
Before I went to bed yesterday, I was afraid that my hands would be swollen when I woke up. This endurance and control are too scary!!!
I've made up my mind!
I need to put away all my slip dresses. Even the deepest corners of my closet won't be enough, so I'll just stuff them in a suitcase or a storage box. I'm also going to dress as conservatively as possible when I sleep—don't ask me why I don't move out or sleep in a separate bed from Gin. Is that really up to me?
Once Gin makes his decision, no one can change his mind.
Even now, I still don't understand why his attitude has changed so drastically. Initially, he was so angry I wanted to sleep with him that he nearly killed me. Later, not only did he let me move into his house, he not only indulged me in kissing him time and time again, but he even took the initiative to pull me into his bed. I repeatedly and recklessly seduced him, but he didn't kill me, he just endured it himself. He wasn't trying to kill me, he was just enduring it... Last night, he even offered to see "how far I could go"...
He also directly... guided me.
Yes, not only did he do his hand job on me last night, not only did he let me do his hand job on him, he even took me in and did his hand job on me...
I really, I never thought about it (muttering).
Could it be that after I moved in, he really fell in love with me?
Or was it that after sobering up, he regretted his loss of control that night and developed a sense of responsibility? Was he just afraid I'd be terrified, so he tried to comfort me, but ended up overdoing it? That's not right? It's so wrong! Gin!!!
But he did say, when I repeatedly pressed him on why he asked me to move in, that he felt something bad would happen if I continued to stay alone in the bar.
Think again about the conversation I had with Gin before going to bed last night.
Mutual love?
Gin likes me?
Is this true or false?
Is this correct?
…
Gin has always been unusually tolerant and indulgent of me, a fact I knew full well. I also knew that Gin was initially very upset that a worthless person like me was assigned to the bar he was supposed to be in charge of. He was truly disgusted and resentful. But even though he was upset, he wouldn't actually kill me. He even tolerated my bold actions and never killed me when he disciplined me.
Compared to other people in the Black Organization, he was really nice to me from the beginning.
Later, I probably, perhaps, possibly... relied on that little bit of my unique personal charm to barely melt a corner of his frozen (?) heart. I could clearly feel that he had me within his absolute domain. He tolerated my bold statements and physical advances, to the point that for a while, Vodka's eyes looked at me with an indescribable complexity, like... jealousy?
Later...
Last year, I had the guts to confess my love to Gin. Besides the alcohol, his good looks, and Vermouth's subtle instigation, it was also because Gin was so kind to me. So, after being so horribly rejected, I wanted to revert to our original relationship of big brother and little sister, still treating him as my favorite little man and my good brother, Gin.
This is how it should have been, if Gin hadn't carried me to his bed again (this is now certain), and asked me to move to his safe house. He changed safe houses three times in more than a year, and never mentioned throwing me out because he thought I was taking up space.
When I was angry and on edge, he would let me pounce on him and kiss him as revenge, and he even took the initiative to kiss me many times afterwards.
He would also help me hold my stomach when I was feeling unwell, and when I was injured, he would help me get revenge, bandage me, and take me for a physical examination. After that, he never took me with him on any potentially dangerous missions.
And last night...
If we put aside the fact that he had always refused to let me sleep with him before last night, the way he pampered me in ways that would basically never happen to Gin, if anyone else did these things, bystanders would conclude without hesitation: this is love.
But, he is Gin?
Will Gin also fall in love with the useless bartender?
Gin, he's officially designated as someone who won't fall in love with anyone, so how could he like someone else? And how could he like me?
Having been threatened with real death, it was hard for me to believe it easily. I always tended to interpret his kindness to me as the care of an older brother for his younger sister, the protective desire of a half-guardian for his daughter, or at most the indulgence of a fairly interesting lover.
But now, I can't seem to deceive myself anymore. Although he responded to my statement about "mutual affection" last night with a mocking "I'm not interested in sleeping with a fool," but based on my long-term understanding of him, and his subsequent ambiguous words "React sooner"...
He seems, is it true?
Even if he doesn't love me or it doesn't meet the worldly definition of love, he at least likes me.
And should it be based on his pride? He probably disdains the way some people in the organization do, simply having sex with someone out of a momentary liking or the lingering adrenaline after a mission. The person he allows into his bed must be someone he admires, and more importantly, someone who is completely his, both physically and mentally, and completely devoted to him.
Thinking about it this way, it does fit perfectly with Gin's picky and extremely controlling personality.
Well, he was waiting for me to admit that I loved him. Yes, the word here even had to be "love".
This is in line with Gin's temperament.
He insisted that I admit that I loved him, so even in that state, he still put on the brakes. Even after being provoked by me, he did not take the last step.
Qiaodou Madai, could it be that he rejected me at the beginning because he saw through at a glance that my love for him was not pure, at least not completely love between a man and a woman?
As for me?
I have no idea.
In fact, even if I could go back to that drunken night a year ago, I'd still be certain I was dependent on him, that I had feelings for him, the kind of feelings a woman has for a man. It's just that I can't tell how much of that feeling was the halo projected onto the two-dimensional paper man, and how much was for the real, cold, yet occasionally tender Gin in front of me.
I later used the term "paper man" countless times to comfort myself and adjust my mindset, but I'm not a heartless fool. I seem to...
Are you attracted to gin? Does it count?
…
but.
Vodka knocked on the door: "Yingzi, are you awake?"
I suddenly pulled myself out of my chaotic thoughts, closed my eyes irritably, and shouted at the door in a bad mood: "I was awake before you woke me up!"
153.
I was wrong. I would never be attracted to Gin.
Who is this person? He treated me this way and that way yesterday, and now he’s really taking me to the training ground today?
Can't you trust a man's words in bed? Damn it!
"Ah???" My voice, which was already a little hoarse from last night, became even worse, and I made an incredible cracking sound.
Gin's eyes slowly passed over the off-white turtleneck sweater I was wearing, which was trying to cover up something, and suddenly a faint arc appeared at the corner of his lips: "Didn't you complain before that your neck was uncomfortable when wearing turtlenecks?"
I immediately put on a fake smile and replied without showing any weakness: "Don't you know why I'm wearing this?"
At worst, I won’t wear this. I’ll wear a low-necked one and see who will be embarrassed?
Gin! Actually...
No, it seems like I’m the one who’s embarrassed.
Welded to death! I resigned myself to the discomfort in my neck and pulled the collar of my sweater upwards, wishing I could bury my face in it.
Vodka, who had been watching us passing each other curiously, suddenly seemed to understand something. He clapped his hands and nodded heavily, "So that's how it is."
I was stunned and subconsciously asked, "What is it?"
Vodka looked at Gin seriously and said, "Brother, this is really not good. Yingzi almost couldn't get out of bed today. She needs to recuperate before going to training, right? She's different from us. She's too fragile and can't withstand any hardship."
Although the words are rough, Vodka's words are too rough!
My eyes widened, too much to care about my immediate anger at Vodka for saying so loudly, "My body is too fragile," something everyone knows. Oh, and it's not that I can't get out of bed! I just... need a little mental support!
However, Gin was probably the one who was even more angry. After all, according to Vodka's speculation, it seemed as if he and I had already fought for eight hundred rounds, and today was just another ordinary "morning after the battle." But in reality...
Gin's expression turned visibly colder, and the air pressure around him plummeted. His dark green eyes shot towards Vodka like icicles, and his voice was filled with chill, "You should practice more too."
Vodka was stunned for a moment: "Huh???"
154.
The training ground was so empty that you could hear the sound of air flowing, and the background sound was the sound of Vodka running.
I was thrown onto the cushions again, my eyes stung by sweat, and everything in my vision was covered in a swaying mist, even the pale light above my head was blurred into a blurry ball of light. I scrabbled to push back my soaked bangs, even breathing felt painful.
What do you mean by evasion training? Even if I could instinctively anticipate Gin's attack and hide or run ahead, wouldn't I still be caught by Gin? I've never been able to figure out whether this is evasion training or physical training for me. The end result is the same: I can't handle it and cheat.
The same is true this time.
I rushed over using my hands and feet, hugged Gin's long legs, and my whole body was stuck to the ground like a pile of mud, with my cheek pressed against his trouser leg. I didn't even bother to feel the muscles of his calves, I was just begging for mercy.
"I can't get up... I really can't get up..." The voice was filtered by the cloth, muffled and pitiful, and trembling with breathlessness, "I can't get up... My beautiful baby won't do it anymore!"
A very light, almost inaudible hum came from above my head, with a hint of mockery. Perhaps he was used to it, because he didn't kick me away, but looked me down from above.
"Can't take it again?" His voice came down from above. "Your physical strength is still so poor. It seems you need more training."
See, I knew it, this is physical training!
Then, I heard him think for a moment, then spoke with a malicious tone, offering me another option that made me even more desperate: "Or, do you want to go running with Vodka?"
I imagined myself panting like a dead dog after the vodka, and I felt a surge of rage. I hugged his legs tightly, and with my last bit of strength, I raised my head. Sweat trickled down my forehead, itching, but I had no hands to wipe it away. His figure, backlit, was visible in my field of vision. His jawline was sharp enough to cut someone, and his dark green eyes were downcast, unable to discern his emotions.
I blinked my sweat-soaked eyes, my voice limping from exhaustion, but I deliberately added a reckless, sticky tone, looking up at him and asking, "Brother..."
"You think I'm physically weak..."
"Then why... don't you train me differently?"
The corners of his eyebrows moved very slightly, and this subtle movement made his entire stern face more lively and dangerous.
I risked my words, speaking even softer, more like a whisper, with a hint of deliberate seduction and provocation. I didn't dare look him in the eye, only daring to rest my gaze on his slightly rolling Adam's apple. "Like... in bed? Like last night? I feel... I'm not strong enough in bed. Shouldn't I be more targeted?"
Those words were like a stone dropped into a deep pond, barely stirring up any water. The air around them instantly stagnated, even more tense than when he had just swung his knife.
I clearly saw his exposed Adam's apple slide down suddenly, a very restrained roll that I could still catch. The heavy footsteps of Vodka in the distance became strangely distant, as if separated by a thick layer of glass.
He was silent for perhaps three seconds, or perhaps a century. Then, he slowly bent down. A tremendous sense of oppression descended upon me as he moved, a shadow completely engulfing me.
His face was so close to mine, his silver hair almost brushing my forehead, that I could clearly see each of his drooping eyelashes and the dark, unclear things swirling in the depths of his dark green eyes.
"It seems," he began, his voice even huskier than before, like rough sandpaper repeatedly grinding against the most sensitive nerve endings, stirring up an uncontrollable shudder, "you really don't have a long memory."
My heart was beating like crazy in my chest, nearly shattering my ribs. I was terrified, but there was also an inexplicable excitement coursing through my veins, which could be described as a suicidal thrill. I continued to recklessly challenge him:
"So... do you like me like this?"
"Is it because... you like that I don't have a good memory?"
"Do you..." I took a breath, as if to absorb that dangerous and tempting breath completely into my lungs, "...you really like me?"
Admit it, Gin. If I want to completely and utterly adore him, it's only fair that he likes me back, right?
Or rather, I'm a little greedier.
Rather than letting him see how far I can go, I want to know to what extent Gin can break away from being an emotionless paper man.
For me.
Gin was right. I was born to be a member of the Black Organization. Like them, I'm a gambler who's willing to put my life on the line. But, rather than money, power, endless desire, or illusory loyalty, what I want in return is an answer.
In this world made up of anime, even in this world of the Black Organization made up of killing and coldness and ruthlessness, will there be anyone who likes me?
Or gin?
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