Chapter 4 "Please let me go." Has she gone mad from being locked up? ...
Buster's body temperature was so high that the son of the god, who had been in a dark, cold, and damp cage for a long time, had the illusion that he was being burned.
He couldn't see clearly, but he could feel that his forehead was pressed against a distinctly concave area.
If I'm not mistaken, that should be Buster's neck hollow.
The Son of God struggled to get up, but he struggled in the wrong direction, or perhaps the hand pressing on his waist applied a little more force, and he sank deeper and deeper, falling into the arms of the broad-shouldered Storm Leader.
It had a rather suggestive feel to it.
So he simply stopped moving, calmly leaned on the leader's shoulder, and spoke in a low voice.
"Please let me go."
Damp, long hair slid from the Son of God's shoulder to Buster's shoulder, carrying a delicate floral scent.
His gaze fell on the long, golden hair, glistening with moisture, and he followed the droplet downwards. He watched as the crystal-clear droplet slid down the side of the Son of God's hair and landed on his chest.
The black fabric wasn't noticeably wet; only Buster himself could feel that area becoming cool.
He's handsome; the more I look at him, the more I want to tease him.
Buster gave his waist a mischievous pinch and repeated his earlier question in a very inappropriate tone.
"Can't you see?"
Despite being controlled by others, the son of the god, with his long hair flowing freely, maintained a calm demeanor and did not seem to be angry at the other party's offense.
He remained silent, seemingly contemplating his answer. Buster expected him to ponder for a long time before replying, as he had done before, but instead saw the Son of God look up.
Under his gaze, the eyelids that had been closed all along slowly lifted.
Tiny water droplets clung to her long, thick, feather-like eyelashes, shimmering like broken diamonds under the light. Buster, however, only noticed the emptiness within her eye sockets.
There was no human tissue or internal structure as one might imagine; the empty eye sockets of the Son of God were truly just empty.
It's like a moonless night, or a vast universe devoid of stars.
“I have lost my sight, but I have not completely lost my senses,” he said slowly. “I can vaguely perceive the people and things around me. It’s like a black canvas, with everything outlined by a brush dipped in white paint. Although I can’t see clearly, it’s enough not to bother anyone else.”
As she spoke, her beautiful eyelids closed again.
He proved himself through his actions, without saying anything more. Not long after, the Son of God felt the hand on his waist, which was clearly warm, loosen its grip, and the restraints on his body disappeared.
The beautiful woman with long golden hair had been clutching the edges of her clothes. After Buster let go, she straightened up and put the clothes on in front of him.
He couldn't see the style, but he could sense from the warm scent of the sun emanating from it and the soft touch that the person who prepared the clothes for him was a thoughtful person.
And... the Storm Leader's gaze was so intense that it was hard for him to ignore it.
However, he himself did not care whether his body was seen by others, so even though he knew that the other party was likely to be looking him up and down, the son of the god did not care and acted very calmly.
"What else did you want to see me about?" After getting dressed, the Son of God sat down by the bed and asked calmly.
Storm Buster maintained an observing posture, arms crossed, and stared at him for a moment before speaking.
"I inquired about the rumors surrounding the eye, the most recent one being from the northern snow country about six months ago. The rumor is that a treasure called the Devil's Eye appeared there. Tsk, it seems it was eventually stolen by an evil dragon."
Storm was actually an atheist, so his attitude toward the Son of God was not much different from his attitude toward the other people on the ship.
The towel used to wipe his body had fallen beside the bed during the earlier chaos. Storm was about to ignore it, but then he noticed that the Son of God's long hair was still dripping wet. His newly put-on clothes and sheets were stained with dark circles from the water droplets, but he seemed completely oblivious, sitting quietly as if nothing had happened.
Could it be that he's been locked up and gone crazy?
Or is it because they've been locked up for too long and have forgotten basic common sense?
Buster didn't have an answer, but by the time he came to his senses, he had already picked up the towel and thrown it on the Son of God's head.
The son of the god's head was hit by the towel that was thrown at him, causing it to tilt slightly, but it quickly straightened up, like a delicate roly-poly toy.
The son of the god, with a half-towel draped over his head, looked a bit dazed, but surprisingly showed a hint of humanity. Buster didn't hide it, chuckling mischievously beside him.
They've toned it down considerably.
If the target is someone else, he will definitely put his hands on his hips and laugh loudly, not satisfied until he makes the person's face turn red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet.
It doesn't hurt.
The gentle and obedient son of the god knew that he meant well, so he took the towel and began to dry his long hair.
"Do you want to fight the dragon?"
Storm sneered, completely disregarding the fearsome dragon.
"If it really is in its hands, I wouldn't mind serving the brothers a meal."
Dragons are ancient creatures, and every part of their bodies is valuable, including their flesh. It is said that those who eat the flesh can live longer, but these legendary creatures are so terrifying that few people would be willing to confront such a demonic being head-on unless they have some unwavering belief.
Unless he's a super-sized cup.
Clearly, judging from Storm's tone, he might be the one who considers himself, or is generally acknowledged, the "super-sized" one.
The Son of God knew little of the outside world and was unaware of what kind of strength was needed to rival a dragon. However, he was certain that whoever could snatch him from a heavily guarded main city was no ordinary being.
Just then, the Son of God suddenly felt a breath much closer to his ear. A head abruptly entered his cramped sensory space and stopped next to his cheek.
The son of the gods knew that he was observing him again.
Within his perception range, he saw the hazy, towering figure lean towards him, a sharply defined hand rising beside his face. The Son of God assumed he was testing his eyes like the others. But the other simply tugged at the towel on his head.
I tore off an inch to make it easier to cover my head.
The Son of God slowly emerged with a question mark: ?
After the other person withdrew his hand, the Son of God confirmed that he had no other intentions of playing a prank, and then accepted the possibility that he might be acting out of goodwill.
Buster acted as if nothing had happened and continued the previous topic.
Can you feel the presence of your eyes?
The son of the gods hesitated, shook his head, and then slowly nodded.
"I can't clearly sense its direction, but I know it's still in this world. Perhaps, when I reach a certain distance, I will be able to sense its direction."
Well, at least it's a search direction.
Within the foggy, black field of vision, the figure outlined by hazy white lines beside him stood up. The moment he rose, the Son of God felt a significant coolness beside him, and the mattress bounced up slightly.
The footsteps faded into the distance, the door opened and closed, and the presence of another person in the space quickly dissipated. The Son of God sat quietly in place, lowered his head, and began to wipe his wet hair.
After wiping, the son of the god lowered his head, as if in some kind of resistance.
After a long while, the struggle came to a conclusion. He reached out, slowly turned to the side, and smoothed out the mess of bedding that Buster had sat on.
With relaxed brows and eyes, the long-haired son of the god, in a pleasant mood and with his hair dried, silently slipped into bed.
A note from the author:
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I advise that leader not to be so obnoxious; it's no wonder his wife hates him... [doge][doge][doge]
My adorable baby's hair is at least 1.2 meters long, perfect for all sorts of styles! [cat emoji]
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