Chapter 78
That's really dangerous.
As Ye Yihe's consciousness returned to his body, he silently thought to himself.
When he woke up, Fyodor had not only taken care of Kyogoku Natsuhiko physically, but had also nearly taken care of him mentally.
He has truly figured out his own preferences, and he's becoming more and more skilled at using it.
In addition, there's this significant boost to the number of resurrection points...
Ye Yihe could only constantly remind himself of this.
Stop focusing on looks. Think about how clever this little mouse is. He's probably still secretly plotting something. Kyogoku Natsuhiko may have been dealt with cleanly, but the Fukuchi Sakura incident isn't over yet!
He opened his eyes and found himself lying in the bedroom of the small building, with Ivan beside him soaking a towel in a basin of water.
Thank goodness, the Russian guy finally decided against trying to cool him down by giving him a shot of vodka, and instead followed the traditional method he had taught him last time.
“Ivan…”
Ye Yihe opened his mouth, his voice even hoarser than Fyodor's in the Palace of Consciousness.
"Ah-ah, my master..."
Ivan turned his gaze with delight and gently placed the cold, damp towel in his hand on Ye Yihe's forehead. "You've finally woken up. As expected, you will open your eyes and listen to our prayers..."
Based on the rhythmic Greek pronunciation, Ye Yihe guessed that it must be a quote from the Bible.
As expected of someone from the former Russian elite, Ivan is also fluent in many languages.
Ye Yihe thought to himself, and then tried to move his left shoulder, which was throbbing with sharp pain.
Having suffered many injuries throughout his life, this was the first time he had experienced the pain of a gunshot wound—it was somewhat unfamiliar, but still extremely painful.
It felt like the wound had been thoroughly cleaned and bandaged; the bandages and dressings had a very distinct tactile feel.
The light outside the window had already dimmed, and the lights in the room had been turned on long ago—Ivan wasn't Fyodor; he wouldn't stay in the dark and not turn on the lights, just wanting to hurt his eyes by staring at the computer screen.
"Now, how is the situation...?"
The coolness of the towel helped Ye Yihe clear his muddled thoughts, and he slowly asked Ivan, "How long have I been unconscious?"
"If we count from when the injury occurred, only about half a day has passed,"
Ivan frowned slightly, his worried silver-gray eyes fixed on Ye Yihe's left shoulder. He was clearly finding it hard to accept that he had caused Ye Yihe such serious harm.
"Excuse my bluntness, my master. No matter how much you try to reassure me, this act of using oneself as bait is far too risky..."
His special ability could clearly protect his master from any firearms—especially these pistol bullets that only travel three or four hundred meters per second, so don't even think about harming this precious body in the slightest!
However, what was the result? An invitation from the Special Abilities Division actually caused his master to suffer such serious harm.
For the first time, Ye Yihe realized that Ivan's expressionless face was far more frightening than his semi-permanent smile, and it even made him feel a little scared.
"I won't do it again next time."
He apologized and made a promise in a weak tone—although Fyodor did these things, the little mouse was still asleep in the palace of consciousness, so how could he be specifically singled out to be criticized?
Ivan's tense expression relaxed a little, but he still seemed unconvinced, and Ye Yihe had no better solution.
After all, even he didn't believe Fyodor wouldn't make the same mistake again...
In addition, Ivan said that Dazai Osamu had returned and briefly described to them the process of dealing with Kyogoku Natsuhiko—he had temporarily skipped work from the Takase-kai to come back and help, and Oda Sakunosuke and Nakaya were also helping to cover his whereabouts—so he quickly finished speaking and left again, only reminding Ivan to take good care of his injuries.
When Fyodor was shot, Ayatsuji Yukito grabbed one of the agents monitoring him as he left his apartment and had him driven to the hospital for emergency treatment.
Although it looks serious, according to the doctor, it was actually a penetrating wound that did not hit the bone or important blood vessels. He was very lucky and only needed to clean the wound and disinfect and change the dressing regularly. He did not need to have surgery to remove the bullet or suture it.
The high fever was simply due to Fyodor's poor health.
"Also," Ivan said to Ye Yihe after recounting what had happened, "that Mr. Ayatsuji said he would be visiting you in a few days, and would be bringing the design drawings for the new doll...?"
Ye Yihe: "...Ah."
He remembered that he had promised Ayatsuji Yukito.
After listening to Ye Yihe's explanation, Ivan remained silent for a moment, as if he had been having a long internal struggle, before finally agreeing with great difficulty, "It's not impossible... Since it's an order from the master, I will do my best to meet that person's needs."
Clearly, even though Ivan's skill in creating dolls using his supernatural abilities is exceptionally gifted, as if God himself were giving him a free lunch, he is not very willing to create even a single doll for anyone else who is unrelated to Ye Yihe.
It's quite possible that the doll Ayatsuji Yukito obtained will become a truly unique piece created by "Master Ivan".
In addition, Ivan relayed Dazai Osamu's instructions.
Asukai is currently being held in a detention center. Although Ayatsuji Yukito will be responsible for providing a detailed incident report, the other party is, after all, a Special Investigator, and his hand was shot and broken by him. Even if Ayatsuji Yukito describes this part of the incident as self-defense in the report, Ye Yihe will most likely still be questioned by the Ministry of Justice.
"So, you mean I need to be mentally prepared?" Ye Yihe nodded. "No problem."
After finally getting a rough idea of the situation, Ye Yihe sat up. Under Ivan's watchful eye, he took the anti-infection medication and drank some warm vegetable porridge to replenish his nutrition before lying back down.
He told Ivan to go back to his room to rest, while he himself returned to the Palace of Consciousness.
Fyodor, who was supposed to be sleeping with his eyes closed, was unusually alert and awake at this moment—his dark red, purplish eyes turned slightly and were aimed at Ye Yihe, who was sitting on the chair by the bed.
That was the spot where Ye Yihe was sitting before he woke up, but now the roles have been reversed.
"What's wrong?"
Holding the Greek version of the Bible he had found on the bookshelf in one hand, Ye Yihe moved the chair closer to the bed; then he reached out to feel the temperature of Fyodor's forehead—it was still very hot, but thankfully not hot enough to make a person stupid.
Perhaps due to instinct, Fyodor's expression was alert and cold when he first opened his eyes, but when Ye Yihe reached out and touched his forehead, even his brow relaxed a little, and he also raised his left hand to hold Fyodor's wrist.
His forehead was burning hot, but his hand was pale and cold, and he didn't use much strength to clench it, as if shrouded in the deep silence of a moonless night.
"You have indeed returned."
Ye Yihe heard his voice was low and soft, and his gaze was slightly unfocused, but he still looked over persistently.
...Now, he was a little unsure whether Fyodor had gone mad from the fever.
"I won't go back on my word."
Ye Yihe chuckled and grabbed his left hand, which was sticking out of the blanket, trying to shove it back in—but the other was quite stubborn at this moment, firmly holding his wrist and refusing to let go.
After struggling for a moment, the sleeve slipped down, revealing a hypertrophic scar that was lighter in color than normal skin, outlining a string of beautiful Russian cursive characters.
This guy has always been ruthless when it comes to his own body, just like this time when he let himself get shot.
But then again...
“Fyodor,”
Taking advantage of the fact that the other person might be out of it at this moment, Ye Yihe leaned down and whispered in his ear while holding his wrist.
"Why is it that in your mind, there are no scars left from the inscription on my left arm?"
Because Xiao Ai (Xiaomi's AI assistant) helped shield his consciousness, his appearance within the Palace of Consciousness was entirely based on Fyodor's mental construct.
In other words, if Fyodor's consciousness were to be a mirror image of the other person, two people with identical appearances, then the unevenness of the bitten nails and the scars of the engravings should also be copied in the same way.
But Ye Yihe noticed when he first appeared here that his fingernails were round and neat, and the skin on his left forearm was as smooth as ever.
On the contrary, Fyodor's own consciousness was entirely a projection of his physical body.
"…………"
Upon hearing this, Fyodor's eyes narrowed slightly.
Perhaps to the enemy, this was a high-risk signal that he was about to make a move, but because Ye Yihe was looking down at Fyodor from his high position, Fyodor's gaze was not cold and fierce at this moment. His dark hair was softly spread on the pillow, and his left hand, which was being held by Ye Yihe, showed no signs of struggling.
Not to mention that the other person's breath was burning hot, which reduced the danger level by at least ten percent.
To Ye Yihe, the other party's reaction was like a feigned composure when someone tries to hide something but is exposed.
"Fyodor?"
Yeikh then urged him on in Russian, using the familiar syllables of the other man's native tongue.
"..."
Fyodor's face finally showed a strange expression—a mischievous smile at the corners of his lips, and a slight tilt of his gaze to look at him. At this moment, when he was in a high fever, he showed a bit of a smug childishness.
"Perhaps you can think about the reasons yourself?"
He turned his head and whispered in Ye Yihe's ear as he leaned down, his still hoarse voice carrying a slightly seductive tone.
"Since you've noticed this,"
The faint laughter that Fyodor let out with his words was like a cello note played after being soaked in molasses, quietly and imperceptibly slipping into Ye Yihe's brain with the slight vibration of the air.
"That means you... are fully aware of this."
Ye Yihe: "…………"
Even when he had a high fever, this guy was still adept at using words to touch people's hearts.
They're incredibly cunning.
While Ye Yihe was stuck for a long time, wanting to continue but not knowing how to start, he finally managed to organize his thoughts and found that Fyodor had closed his eyes and fallen into a deep sleep again in the same stalemate with him.
"…………"
With no other option, Ye Yihe covered the blanket with his own hands as well, and with his other hand, he opened the thick book that resembled an encyclopedia by the bedside.
During this time, he had learned most of the common Greek vocabulary, and he took this opportunity to try to understand the Bible that Fyodor often recited.
Outside the Palace of Consciousness, countless fragments peeled away, floated, vanished, and were reborn. Only the endless double helix staircase slowly and quietly rotated, connecting this originally empty dark abyss.
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