The Creature Keeper - chapter 43

The young man straightened slightly, all his senses focusing on the spot on his shoulder where she had pushed him. The warmth of her palm had ignited a raging fire, and the movement of his tentacle drew him up further. Even though he wasn’t fully upright, he now towered above her, looking down from a height.

His pale, sharp-knuckled fingers pressed against the edge of the glass tank. His handsome face was adorned with soft, damp, dark green hair, gently curved and obediently resting across his forehead. Under the refracted light, his eyes appeared especially magnificent.

In a daze, his gaze resembled an Abyss-startling and terrifying.

His eyes lingered on Tang Rou’s face, brimming with a complicated and profound emotion.

“Rou…”

He called out again, his tentacles wrapping even tighter around her.

“What is it?” Tang Rou was unsettled by Number 17’s abrupt shift in mood, a nameless fear welling up inside her.

A tentacle curled around her wrist, pulling Tang Rou so close that she was nearly pressed against his waist. Her view was filled with the clear and graceful lines of his muscles. He spoke in a barely audible, unusually hoarse tone, like uneven breaths. The tentacle around her wrist guided her hand to that neglected tentacle, urging her fingers to touch it.

The tentacle of a cold-blooded creature was icy, coated in a slippery film of water.

Tang Rou looked up, meeting Number 17’s anxious expression. His jewel-like eyes gazed at her with burning intensity, his voice carrying a note of pleading.

“Rou, just like before, please…”

Tang Rou was surprised. When did he learn to say those two words?

His hesitant, pitiful look resembled a puppy wagging its tail before its owner, longing for attention and affection.

…It truly was like a puppy’s behavior.

Tang Rou felt uncertain. “Why do you want me… to touch you?”

The young man blinked his watery, deep green eyes, looking somewhat lost-he couldn’t articulate why, but his gaze grew more eager, more longing. His pale lips pressed together, his teeth worrying helplessly at his lower lip. He looked especially pitiful.

Tang Rou asked, “Is it because you were hurt a few days ago? Are you too scared?”

The alien being from the deep sea did not know fear, yet he craved her touch. So, flustered, he nodded frantically, agreeing blindly and playing along with her words, pretending to look frightened.

“Scared… scared…”

So he wanted comfort from his Feeder? Tang Rou obligingly patted his head, then pinched his ear. “Don’t be afraid. You’re safe now.”

He leaned in, narrowing his eyes, long lashes quivering constantly.

“All the experimental tanks in Sector S are being reinforced. What happened before will never happen again.”

She stroked his head as if soothing a kitten or puppy, but this was not what Number 17 truly wanted.

Unsatisfied, he opened his eyes, growing restless again. He braced his tall frame, almost climbing out of the glass tank.

“Don’t move!” Tang Rou tried to stop him, but it was too late. More and more tentacles crawled out of the tank.

Water splashed out of the wide glass vat, as if someone had stirred up a tsunami.

Like a butterfly beating its wings, the seawater burst forth.

“Enough, Number 17, stop.” She dodged the splashes and the restless tentacles, but still couldn’t halt the escaping Experimental Subject.

The octopus felt the icy blood in his veins begin to race, a faint heat rising within him. He was certain that the shuddering sensation came from where his Feeder’s fingertips touched his skin, sending an electric current through his body, almost unbearable.

Those magical fingertips brushed against his arm. Even the gentlest stroke felt like a fine whip lashing helpless flesh, bringing a wave of unbearable, complex sensation.
He felt a bit lost, the organs in his chest pounding rapidly and violently, setting his eardrums vibrating so that he heard the sound of electric shocks again and again.

He was too nervous, extremely nervous.

Because of this nervousness, he felt as if he were about to die.

He liked Tang Rou-her touch, her nearness, her breath, her voice, her hair, her fingernails, her smile, her soothing presence, the way her eyes would go blank when she was lost in thought, the slight upward curl at the ends of her hair.

He liked the unintentional creases pressed into her uniform, liked the way her eyes narrowed when she was happy, the white teeth revealed when she smiled.

He liked her, and was willing to give his life.

Did she want his life?

He lowered his head, thinking, and truly began to feel afraid.

He was willing to offer his life, but what if she didn’t accept it?

“Scared… Rou, I’m scared.”

He echoed her words, his fine lashes drooping helplessly like broken wings, looking as melancholy as a fallen, wandering nobleman.

Tang Rou, while trying to avoid him, heard his voice. She looked up and saw the helplessness in his eyes.

“Rou, I… I’m scared.”

Tang Rou was stunned.

Her clothes were already completely soaked, clinging uncomfortably to her body. Water poured out of the glass tank in sheets, overflowing with a loud rush, leaving puddles all over the floor, making the place look a mess.

Yet the one who had started all this looked especially flustered, his handsome face-usually expressionless and cold-now filled with the confusion of someone afraid of being abandoned.

He opened his arms, almost pleading, “Come… don’t go…”

Tang Rou felt things were getting stranger and stranger. “What are you afraid of? Can you tell me?”

Could it be that, after experiencing trauma, he was having a stress reaction? Some kind of psychological or emotional disorder?

After all, Aselan had said that over a hundred Experimental Subjects had attacked him. If he had developed psychological scars, it would be understandable-but all of this was based on the premise that he possessed emotions in the commonly understood sense.

While she was lost in thought, he became even more desperate. Before Tang Rou could react, his tentacles quickly wrapped around her waist, arms, and shoulders, encasing her layer by layer and pulling her slightly off balance.

“Rou…”

The young man murmured her name, his head pressed against her neck. “Rou…”

From a distance, they looked like lovers whispering with their necks entwined.

“Rou, I’m scared, don’t go.”

His low, gentle voice lingered from her collarbone to her ear. Tang Rou felt a sudden crisis, a loss of control, and pushed him away forcefully. “Stop, Number 17, you can’t do this.”

Her waist was locked in his grip.

“Why not?” he retorted, his voice close to her ear, the coldness of his breath sending a chill through her.

Her hair was starting to get wet from him as well. In his eyes, her attempts to push him away were feeble; with a gentle twist, the two of them were now completely in an embrace.

The Little Octopus used his long, human-like arms to hold her shoulders. Tang Rou felt her feet lift off the ground, unable to touch the floor, her body pressed against his cold, empty chest.

Yet the young man who had forcibly encircled her now held her waist with a gentle, helpless embrace, his whole body trembling and stiff.

He kept repeating, “I’m scared… scared…”

As he spoke, he bit down on her hanging hair, his head nestling affectionately against her neck.

He didn’t know how to kiss, nor did he understand the meaning of kissing in human society. He only wanted to get closer to her. His biological instincts made him want to swallow her whole, to hide her inside himself, but he didn’t know how, had no method.

So he bit her hair, using this way to express his love for his Feeder.