Chapter 168 Uneasy
"...What's going on?" Ole couldn't help but raise his eyebrows.
The tyrant, his eyes covered with a black cloth, sat calmly at the dining table. Without the intimidating presence of his smoky gray eyes, he looked somewhat... unreal and frail, like a pale ghost evaporating in the sunlight.
It shouldn't be an injury, otherwise someone would have gone crazy long ago.
"Cure myopia." The other person said briefly, then fumbled on the dining table with his right hand. The savior beside him gently pushed a coffee cup into his palm.
...I knew that guy suddenly wanted to see a therapist for this, Ole couldn't help rolling his eyes.
After the professor lost his sight, everything was normal at first, except that he accidentally spilled his coffee on the dining table and poked his breakfast all over the table, almost getting it up his nostrils.
Fortunately, he quickly memorized the placement of the tableware, and rejected someone's offer to feed him. He even smoothly arranged a bunch of tasks with the protagonists after breakfast: still collecting and organizing intelligence in Port Morris.
This time, Ole did not seem as reluctant as before. Perhaps he was softened by the male protagonist's persuasion. The professor found that the plan might be able to move to the next step.
The imprisonment has successfully given "Mr. Nova, the editor-in-chief of the Limin Daily", a highly protestative and representative character, a sacred glow. There are many tentative signals from various forces seeking cooperation, but most of them just want to borrow his reputation, and there are not many people who truly belong to him.
The students at White Tower University were currently just a small, rebellious group of sparks. These young people were his personally nurtured team and reserve talent, and perhaps one day they would truly ignite a prairie fire. He had designed a proving ground as safe as possible to allow them to experience and grow, but these people were far from enough. As he said, they lacked the armed forces—but first, Nova wanted the Shadow Chaser.
But the so-called "crow debt repayment" was just a joke. His personal relationship with Ole Asaqi alone—the kind that involved a person—would not allow him to naturally take over this loose organization formed by a group of powerful talents. He needed to intervene with a suitable reason and make himself the core interest of this group.
As for Marcyline—he wasn't very familiar with her yet, and she was still under observation. But for now, at least the red-haired girl wouldn't destroy his collection like Ole Asaqi had done, and that was enough for the professor to be kind to her.
The second male lead didn't know that even though the greedy demon king couldn't see anything, he was still plotting against the Shadow Chaser—or rather, even if he did know, he was powerless to stop the other party's seemingly omnipresent and omnipotent calculations and layout, and even had the faint thought of giving up resistance. So, apart from the professor's occasional inevitable speech to the empty white wall or calling "Ore" to Marcyline, everything went smoothly.
But as the others left and the room gradually quieted, the professor, who had previously seemed at ease, began to behave strangely. At first, he could still sit on the sofa, mentally sorting out the information and plans from the recent period, but soon, unable to bear it any longer, he stood up.
"Azuka?" Nova tentatively touched forward: "Are you still there?"
The Savior's breathing was always very light. Even though his hearing became much more sensitive after losing his sight, he still couldn't hear any movement. It was as if he was alone in a dark void, and could only grope forward on his own.
"I'm here." Fortunately, someone quickly grabbed his hand that was reaching up in the air and said, "What do you want? I'll get it for you."
The black-haired young man was silent for a moment: "...some important letters, on the table."
He looked earnestly at the general direction of the Savior: "Please read the letter for me, please?"
Azuka stared thoughtfully at his nemesis. He remembered that he had already disposed of all the important correspondence yesterday; in just one day, there wouldn't be any new ones. But he said nothing, only gently acknowledging the situation and turning back to search.
But just as the savior turned around with the letter, he was bumped into by someone - the black-haired young man who had been sitting obediently on the sofa waiting for him stood up again at some point, groped his way, and stumbled behind him, tentatively reaching out to grab him, and ended up falling into his arms.
Azuka: "...What's wrong?"
He narrowed his eyes calmly, but his voice showed no sign of it. He simply caught the person and put his arm around her shoulders soothingly, then gently pushed her to sit on the sofa: "Just sit down, I'll get it."
——Why did you suddenly become so... clingy?
It's like suddenly losing an important tool for understanding the world and making judgments and thoughts, and therefore appears extremely anxious and uneasy.
As expected.
When helping someone read the letter, someone deliberately kept a distance. The professor listened very carefully, sometimes even asking him to stop and dictate some comments, asking him to write them down and organize them.
But as he was reciting the poem, his old enemy began to move towards him little by little on his own, and his warm body temperature gradually became clearly perceptible. Finally, even in front of his somewhat stunned eyes, he grabbed his wrist with an expressionless face.
"……professor?"
"Go on." The other party glanced at him, his tone calm.
Azuka: “…”
The fingers holding his wrist tightened slightly, and the leather with human body temperature rubbed against his skin, making it a little itchy.
"Your pulse is quickening." The guy looked towards him warily: "What did you see?"
A hint of smile suddenly appeared in the Savior's eyes, but he didn't show it. He meekly let the handkerchief be held, and said softly with a sigh, "Sir, I can't take notes like this."
“…”
The other party reluctantly let go of his hand, and the corners of his mouth on the lower half of his face were obviously tense.
"But if you need to monitor my heartbeat at any time, you can put your ear against my chest."
The savior kindly reminded him, but perhaps because his attitude was too frivolous and informal, the other party thought about it and refused.
Work always has to be done. Just as Azuka was finishing another eye treatment, letting the man lie down on the sofa to rest his eyes, and then briefly leaving to sort out some documents, the man, already feeling drowsy, forced himself to get up and, following closely behind him with his deliberately heavier footsteps, he stepped forward.
"...Are you scared?" Azuka stood there and sighed softly.
"No." The other party answered firmly, then tentatively felt forward, and when he found no one, he frowned: "Where are you?"
The Savior looked at the other person in the room with an unfathomable expression.
His old enemy stood there, blindfolded, and because of his silence, he reached out to him in confusion, looking surprisingly helpless.
At least at this moment, he needed him... or rather, he longed for him.
A certain unspeakable, deep, complex and twisted desire was filled as never before, but out of his greedy nature, he instinctively wanted more.
Perhaps he could be a little more harsh on people. Given their slowness, they wouldn't notice anything, and would simply continue to seek help from him, carrying grievances they themselves weren't aware of, until his moon, dripping with slurry, was forced to reveal more softness, more vulnerability, or pay a greater sweet price—but in the end, he simply held their hand and gently pulled them into his arms.
"I am here," the Savior whispered, and tenderly kissed the curls of black hair. "You see, I will always come back to you."
When Marchline returned, she was met with the horrifying sight of a tyrant curled up in her friend's lap. She tried hard to suppress any noise in her panic—the blond savior, standing in the setting dusk, his divinely-shaped face, everything seemed incredibly holy and beautiful. He smiled at her, his index finger raised, gently touching his lips.
——What did you do to him?
The red-haired girl glared at the person and lip-synced with a grin, but the other party's voice sounded softly in her ears without disturbing the person on her lap - with a little skill, the Savior's control over the wind has reached the pinnacle. Even in her previous life, she and Ole had long been accustomed to this kind of "private call".
"Falling asleep." The guy actually seemed very proud.
"I know he's asleep," Marcyline couldn't help but roll her eyes, imitating Ole's. "The question is why he's lying on your lap while you're stroking His Majesty's hair like a cat's fur."
She knew that her companion had always disguised himself as gentle and considerate, seemingly approachable—but in reality, he never easily allowed others to have physical contact with him. When he was young and beautiful, there were always people who tried to make a move on him, either with dirty talk or with dirty hands. Without exception, they were all secretly punished, leaving them trembling at the sight of others.
And that Majesty even wore gloves all year round, with only his face and a small part of his wrists exposed. He didn't look like the type who would actively seek closeness to others.
Then there is only one truth.
Marcyline took a deep breath. Although she had anticipated this, she still felt her eyebrows twisted in pain.
"Have you already... 'fallen in love'? Like in 'The Rose and Death'?"
"The Rose and the Death" is one of the most classic plays in the continent of Ambrose. It tells the love tragedy between Gerald, a poor boy who becomes a brave man, and Aurora, a princess of a hostile country.
Poseidon, Marceline thought with a headache, she had never imagined that one day she would transplant the facial features of her best friend and the tyrant onto the faces of two drama actors who were kissing each other passionately on the stage.
As a result, the other party denied it.
"No," he said calmly, "to be precise, I'm the only one who's 'in love.'"
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