Chapter 37 I don't hate you, but I don't like you either.
The soft light of dawn streamed through the glass into the room, gently caressing the sleeping beauty's face and brows on the bed.
In the pristine white sheets, long golden hair flowed like water across the pillow, resembling honey melted by the sunlight, gleaming with a delicate and warm glow.
His eyelids trembled slightly.
Perhaps awakened by the warm touch of the sunlight, or perhaps by the cries of seagulls circling near the ship, Reinhardt gradually regained consciousness.
...
I don't really want to get out of bed.
Reinhardt, who regarded the annoying alarm clock as his bottom line for getting out of bed, silently buried his head in the blankets, like an ostrich, and prepared to stay in bed a little longer.
Suddenly, as if he had thought of something, his body paused, his mind cleared as he formed thoughts, realizing that he seemed to have unconsciously gotten used to... falling asleep.
This also means that, subconsciously, he felt safe enough here.
strangeness.
When did he come to this view?
Reinhardt was puzzled.
His fingers pressed against the soft pillow as he slowly propped himself up. His long hair, shimmering with a soft golden glow in the sunlight like a waterfall, flowed across the misty blue silk pillow as he got up, like a princess waking up in a fairy tale, beautiful yet unaware of her own beauty.
He sat there, somewhat dazed. He was probably not fully awake, yet troubled by doubts, forced to wake up. His usually expressionless face showed a rare furrowed brow, revealing his inner bewilderment.
It seemed that before returning from Valley City, he had always been a light sleeper. The slightest sound outside could wake him, and he was often already dressed before the Storm Lord's morning service even began.
But he really slept well yesterday, without any dreams, and even... wanted to stay in bed longer.
Since when did he become so at ease that he could sleep well?
Before he could get an answer to his confusion, Reinhardt was drawn to a knock at the door.
“Are you awake? Reinhardt, it’s me, it’s Victoria.”
Hearing the familiar voice, Reinhardt threw back the covers and groped his way out of bed. As soon as he opened the door, he was greeted by a hug from Victoria.
The red-haired woman had clearly just woken up and, without even bothering to dress up, rushed over to Reinhardt and eagerly gave him a hug.
The two, with their equally fluffy hair, looked like two soft cotton dolls huddled together, creating a very warm and beautiful scene.
Victoria wasn't as tall as Reinhardt, but she still treated him like an older sister, affectionately stroking his disheveled hair after releasing him from her embrace.
“I’m so glad you’re alright. Madonna told me what happened, and I was really touched. Reinhardt, I want to thank you for your courage. Thank you for saving me.”
Just as Reinhardt was about to speak, Victoria was suddenly lifted up, moved back a few floor tiles, and then put down by the hand that was holding her.
Victoria turned to face the leader, who was raising his eyebrows, and immediately smiled.
"leader!"
"Hmm." The Storm Leader crossed his arms and responded casually.
His gaze fell on Madonna, who had followed him, and he asked calmly, "Are you alright?"
Madonna, of course, remembered the leader's instructions. She still couldn't be sure if Victoria's safe awakening and unharmed state was related to Reinhardt's blood, but she couldn't say much at the moment. Nodding, Madonna first reported on Victoria's current condition.
"Fortunately, the medicine doesn't seem to have harmed Victoria, and she is very healthy now."
“That’s right!” Victoria nodded and smiled. She glanced back outside and asked Madonna, “Where’s Celine? I haven’t seen her.”
Madonna explained, "She's still in Duogu City. The main person in charge of the underground city isn't just that man; there are other forces involved besides those in the Western Continent."
“I contacted her last night. She plans to stay in Duogu City for the time being. She will contact us immediately if anything happens, so you don’t need to worry about that. Oh, and also…”
"Go change your clothes first, we'll talk about it at breakfast later." The Storm Leader interrupted their conversation, which was rare for Madonna, who then heard a certain son of a god secretly playing drums.
Victoria ran to Reinhardt as soon as she opened her eyes, only then noticing that he was still wearing very simple pajamas. This was very unladylike for her, so she nodded, then reached out and touched Reinhardt's head before reluctantly running back to her room to change.
Reinhardt also needed to change, and Madonna helped him choose a cream-colored dress. She then went downstairs to her room to wash up, leaving only Reinhardt and Buster in the once bustling room.
The skirt was laid out on the bed to the left. Reinhardt roughly determined the direction, then touched the collar and slowly took off his clothes, completely ignoring the fact that Buster was still in the room.
For a moment, the latter froze, instinctively pushing the door shut and trying to turn away. But he convinced himself with the reason, 'We're all men, why is he avoiding me?' and forcibly fixed his head in Reinhardt's direction, watching him clumsily change clothes, thus proving that he was truly a straight man and had absolutely no interest in Reinhardt.
I don't know who they're trying to prove something to.
The process of undressing was not complicated; once the pajamas were removed, Reinhardt's slender body was displayed unobstructed before Buster.
Reinhard, possessing divine qualities, was undoubtedly sacred and pure, like a glass of clear water; none of his actions carried any ambiguity.
Buster, who was even straighter than a giant sword, clearly had no other intentions. At least for now, there was no strange desire mixed in with his gaze as he looked at Reinhardt.
But he just couldn't take his eyes off it.
As his gaze lingered on that slender body, Buster's mind involuntarily conjured up the image of Reinhardt undressing and displaying his body in front of him the night he first boarded the ship.
At that time, Reinhardt was covered in countless wounds, his wrists and ankles were chafed with bloody ring marks, and his skin was atrophied due to malnutrition.
The wound has healed, probably thanks to the healing power of his blood; Reinhardt wasn't left with any scars. His once thin, bony body has regained the plumpness of an ordinary person, though he's still very pale, a pale that lacks any health.
Her chest and waist had bulged out a bit, as had her buttocks and legs. The Storm Leader's eyes fell on the soft pink hilltop, his mind racing, and he thought that it felt much better to hold her than before.
...Not that place, he didn't press that place.
Okay, he might have touched them, but it wasn't intentional. He's not interested in men. Any accidental touches were purely accidental; it was definitely not something he intended to do.
While his thoughts were in turmoil, he was also struggling with getting dressed. Buster, seeing the mess he was making, simply cleared his mind of all the chaos, went behind Reinhardt, and helped him hold one of the sleeves.
There were quite a few exits in the clothing, and it took the Storm Leader a while to find the correct neck exit, allowing Reinhardt's fluffy blond head to stretch out.
Once the clothes were fully on, Buster, standing behind Reinhardt, used his broad hand to gently stroke Reinhardt's long hair, finally getting a clear look at what style it was.
The cashmere mini-skirt has a fitted waist, a high neck, and long sleeves, but with a slit at the chest, revealing a wide, open neckline. However, this is all rather restrained; the truly eye-catching part is at the back, right next to Buster's back, which is even more revealing.
Her long, golden hair was swept to the side and held in Buster's hand, making her fair back and the outline of her sphenoid bones clearly visible. The Storm Leader had a commanding view and could even see the only part of her back that was covered by fabric, the faint curve of her body.
The Storm Leader's body stiffened abruptly; his heart was pounding so hard it could kill a deer.
He suppressed the inexplicable surge of emotion with some helplessness, turning his gaze to the side, but his hand remained in the position of holding Reinhardt's hair.
"What kind of clothes are you wearing! If you don't like them, just say so. Don't let them do whatever they want!"
Reinhardt, puzzled, closed his eyes and turned his head to the side.
Buster was drawn to his movements, and his gaze returned to his profile, where a few strands of golden hair hung down. He heard him say calmly, "Clothes are just clothes. There's no such thing as liking or disliking them."
Because we can't see it, we don't care.
...
Buster's emotions quickly returned to normal after hearing that short sentence. His gaze darkened slightly as he carefully traced the curve of Reinhardt's nose and lips. The Storm Leader asked earnestly.
"So what do you like?"
Reinhardt did not answer. In fact, he didn't know how to answer.
Undeterred by the lack of an answer, the Storm Leader asked another question.
"So what do you dislike? Hmm, the kind of thing that you feel resistant to even thinking about, you could say you dislike or hate, like the time you were imprisoned, that city, the iron chains binding your body."
He was trying to guide Reinhardt to vent his emotions.
It seemed to be having some effect. Reinhardt nodded and spoke softly, giving an answer that Buster had never considered.
“Battan,” Reinhardt said, “I don’t like him touching me.”
A few strands of golden hair slipped out of his grasp, flowing slowly down his shoulders and vaguely obscuring Reinhardt's fair neck and back.
Buster's pupils flickered almost imperceptibly for a second. After a brief silence, he curled his lips into a smirk and deliberately teased Reinhardt in a cheeky tone.
“Oh, I see.” He lowered his head, his breath catching in Reinhardt’s ear. “I can touch you, so it means you like me.”
In Reinhardt's view, the answer was neither yes nor no, which made no difference. He didn't reject Buster's touch, although he wasn't sure if it could be considered liking.
But for some reason, Mark's question and Buster's resolute "impossible" came to mind at this moment, and Reinhardt felt a strange pang of sadness in his heart.
It was very faint, much lighter than the injuries he had suffered on his body, almost negligible. But for some reason, he was deeply bothered by this faint, stinging pain.
Even acknowledging this was somewhat of a hurdle for him.
As if avoiding the question, he turned his head back. His voice was as calm as ever as Reinhardt's as he spoke slowly: "I don't hate you, but I don't like you either."
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Author's Note: Madonna: The consequences of not being honest have come true...
Victoria: Yes, yes, Reinhardt, be good, I'll take you to see some male models! Touch their abs!
Buster, enraged (grabbing Reinhardt's hand and pressing it against his abs): None of them could be as big as mine! They can only touch mine!
Reinhardt (trying very hard to pull his hand back): ...
————
Serves you right for not being honest! Go chase after your wife!
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