The Fallen's Guide - chapter 15

Tang Nian quietly watched a Fountain show, her indifferent gaze finally settling back on the boy.

He was at her feet, like an overripe cherry, rotting, languid, secretive and unbearable, the effects of the filthy drugs spilling out of him.

His whole body trembled; the originally pale fingertips and collarbone were tinged with an alluring flush, his skin burning, blood boiling.

All his senses were focused on the places Tang Nian’s gaze swept over; he felt himself turning into an animal.

But he felt wronged.

His beautiful, deep eyes were rimmed red, his breathing harsh and rapid, suppressed gasps escaping as he struggled to speak: “I’m sorry…”

Accidentally meeting Tang Nian’s eyes, he quickly lowered his head again, his body trembling uncontrollably, transparent tears slipping down his long, curled lashes, dripping onto the ground and blooming into tiny splashes.

He was thin, curled up on the ground, helpless, his lips trembling softly.

Being stared at by those wet eyes, Tang Nian felt like a sinner.

Tang Nian helped him.

But not in the way he wanted.

She grabbed the boy’s wrist, startled by how thin he was. The moment she touched him, he clung to her like a vine, unable to restrain himself, desperate to get close to her.

But Tang Nian, caught off guard, threw him into the cold Fountain pool.

The water here was all mountain meltwater, icy cold-even in midsummer it could be called chilly, let alone now, at the end of autumn.

He panicked, trying to climb out, but Tang Nian, expressionless, stepped on his shoulder and forced him back down.

That brief contact, in his eyes, became a blessing. The boy’s hands clung to her ankle, hugging her calf.

He began to lose his senses again, kissing Tang Nian’s water-soaked shoes, doing who knows what underwater.

His gray-violet eyes lost focus, a thin mist rising in them.

He even stuck out his crimson tongue, in his confusion touching the cold tip of her leather shoe.

Like a little stray dog that had lost itself.

Water splashed everywhere, the boy’s whole body shaking violently.

Pitifully clinging to the edge of the pool, a damp, languid, decadent beauty crept over his brows and eyes, as if someone had pulled out his spine, weakly gripping Tang Nian’s ankle.

His rosy lips trembled, his beautiful gray-violet eyes stared at Tang Nian, dark and unreadable.

Tang Nian watched coldly, her indifference like a mask.

He gasped for a long time before slowly coming back to himself from the forced pleasure.

After soaking a while longer, he dragged his still-trembling body up onto the shore.

The passion on the boy’s face was replaced by pallor, his wet hair hanging over his forehead, like a wounded puppy fallen into water.

He knelt before Tang Nian, carefully cupping her hand, and under her strange gaze, extended his crimson tongue to gently moisten the wound beneath her torn sleeve.

The warm sensation slowly melted in her palm, like being nuzzled by a puppy.

Strangely, the wound no longer stung.

Tang Nian was a little curious and did not pull her hand away.

“What are you doing?”

He lowered his eyes, his long, thick lashes hiding the darkness beneath.

“Serving you.”

The three words were so soft they were almost inaudible.

All his life, he had been pursued like an object, bringing slaughter and rivalry; he knew the allure of his face, and knew everyone wanted him.

So he thought the person before him was no exception.

But Tang Nian was thinking, this beautiful Slave seemed to have gotten something wrong.

She said nothing, nor did she kindly explain.
Out of a sense of wicked amusement, she didn’t push him away, tilting her head to observe his inexperienced actions.

The young Slave had clearly never done such a thing before; his movements were awkward, and the soft, damp tip of his tongue reminded her of a stray cat stealing food, though unlike a cat’s tongue, it lacked sharp barbs.

When he finished licking the blood from her wound and looked up at her, Tang Nian withdrew her hand and tugged at the Chains around his neck, making them clatter noisily.

Pulled by her, the Slave staggered, his exhausted body nearly collapsing to the ground. He clung to the edge of the Fountain, his gray-violet eyes looking at her helplessly.

The collar around his neck still had a long chain attached; Rose’s Servants had only released the end connected to the cage, but the Slave’s collar, a symbol of servitude, had not been removed.

The pitch-black collar seemed to absorb all light, its strange material especially conspicuous against his slender, pale neck.

Touching it, she found uneven carved marks.

It seemed to be inscribed with a long string of words.

Tang Nian leaned in, her attention caught by the collar, not noticing how the Slave’s breathing grew rapid as he hung his head, his earlobes flushed as if about to bleed.

Her warm breath brushed his skin, and he trembled uncontrollably.

After all, beneath the water, his body was bare, and the lingering effects of the drugs still coursed through his blood.

Being observed so closely by a young woman who had just saved his life, he felt as if his whole body was burning.

Fortunately, Tang Nian only looked for a moment before letting him go, considerately draping her cloak over him. The Slave’s expression was complicated as he silently pulled the garment tighter and climbed out of the water.

“What’s your name?” she asked casually.

The Slave shook his head in confusion.

His soaked hair dripped water with his movements, quickly pooling in a small puddle at his collarbone.

Tang Nian admired his beauty and asked again, “Before you were sold as a Slave, who were you?”

He pressed his lips together and shook his head again.

He didn’t know who he was?

Tang Nian glanced at the distant lights that had come back on, and at the chaotic Nobles, then continued, “Then what do you remember?”

The Slave lowered his head. “I don’t know.”

He looked at his powerless limbs, his voice very soft. “I don’t remember anything.”

Amnesia?

Or was his role so insignificant that the game hadn’t even bothered to give him an identity?

Tang Nian pondered silently, unaware that the Slave was growing increasingly anxious under her scrutiny.

He mouthed words, his earlobes growing even redder, carefully choosing what to say.

After a long while, he finally gathered his courage and said to her, “If possible, please take me in…”

“You should go.”

Tang Nian didn’t notice what he said, interrupting him aloud.

So she didn’t see how, after she spoke those three words, the Slave’s face suddenly turned deathly pale.

Her gaze rested on the Servants pouring out from the banquet in the distance, urging coldly, “Hurry, leave this place.”

Just a Slave.

She couldn’t let that troublesome Count’s daughter NPC find out she’d let him go, or it would be another mess.

Tang Nian only wanted to complete her Mission and exchange it for her life.

After a few seconds, the Slave still hadn’t moved. She turned back in confusion, “Why haven’t you left yet?”

The garden was dimly lit, and the Slave was soaked through.

His moist, shadowed eyes held bewilderment, as if puzzled by why she wanted him to leave.

He didn’t understand why Tang Nian, unlike the others, didn’t intend to treat him as a plaything.

Why, even after he had tried to please her, she remained unmoved.