The Fallen's Guide - chapter 22

Tang Nian gently lifted the quilt, moving quietly, and was momentarily stunned by the sight before her.

The Slave’s pajamas were loosely bunched up inside the bedding, revealing the boy’s beautiful abs and two long, fair legs still mottled with fading bruises.

He seemed to be having an unpleasant dream. His lips, bitten repeatedly, were moist and slightly swollen. Soft black hair spilled across the pillow like black satin shimmering with scattered light.

Tang Nian sighed. Indeed, a beautiful appearance was the best passport.

She twisted open the medicine bottle, and a fresh medicinal scent spread through the air.

She chose to apply the Ointment after the Slave had fallen asleep because she still wasn’t sure if acting rashly would affect the subsequent Mission. Saving him had already been a gesture of goodwill.

But goodwill came in many forms. If it was too deliberate, it would seem purposeful and might arouse suspicion, backfiring instead.

So it was better to treat him in a calm, natural way.

She dabbed a bit of the cool Ointment onto her fingertip and, focusing solely on the task, gently applied it to the savage whip marks.

Her movements were light. The Ointment melted with the friction, turning warm. The boy’s body tensed, then began to tremble.

Perhaps it hurt. His slender fingers gripped the sheets tightly, and a faint, indistinct whimper escaped his throat, like a small animal caught by the neck.

From his waist upward, her fingertips moved in gentle circles. Her hands were warm and delicate, intimately pressed to his skin. In the darkness, something silently boiled, masking the increasingly heavy heartbeat.

Tang Nian was puzzled. The wounds she touched showed no sign of subsiding; instead, they grew even redder, as if about to bleed.

The sleeping boy let out an unconscious whimper, as if she had pressed too hard. She eased her touch, and in that moment of hesitation, his injured back unconsciously pressed closer.

Was he really asleep?

Tang Nian paused cautiously for a while, only confirming that the boy’s response was purely unconscious.

After finishing with his arms, Tang Nian lowered her head, her slender fingers resting at his collar, then hesitated again.

Her fingertips paused on his collarbone.

She didn’t notice that the tips of his ears, hidden beneath his soft hair, were faintly flushed.

Tang Nian glanced at her own arm, vaguely recalling that after the boy had licked her wound, it had miraculously healed.

But were her own injuries truly beyond healing?

She didn’t know how much time had passed before the torturous process of applying the Ointment finally ended.

The door was closed quietly, and the gentle feminine scent gradually faded away.

After Tang Nian left, the room was quiet for only a moment before it erupted.

Dark Twisted Substance seemed to fall into a frenzy, watching the trembling boy on the bed, writhing over and sticking to his flushed, fragile face.

He curled up in the quilt, as if embracing the lingering feminine scent left on the fabric. The Slave helplessly tilted his head back. The wounds that had been burning hot slowly cooled after she left, leaving him with an unprecedented sense of cold and emptiness.

His long, beautiful fingers loosened, revealing deep crescent marks in his palm from his own nails.

When those gentle, focused eyes had fallen on his back, he had gripped his palm tightly out of restraint, suppressing any breath that might reveal he was still awake.

Why would someone come quietly to apply medicine for him?

Why be kind to him, yet not want him to know?

So strange.

He buried his face in the quilt again, rubbing it softly in confusion. His breath tangled with the fabric, his movements filled with the innocent longing of a child-without any hint of ambiguity or desire.

Yet his actions had already been tainted by the turmoil and experiences of recent days.

He simply didn’t understand.

No one had ever taught him.

–

The next day, in the corridor on the second floor of the manor, there were noticeably more Maids cleaning. They appeared to be wiping glass, windows, and antique vases as tall as a person.

Yet their eyes would occasionally flick toward that door, then pretend to glance elsewhere as if by accident.

Inside the room, the Slave sat motionless at the edge of the bed. Even his silhouette made the Maids hold their breath, their eyes shining.
The Slave’s face was exceptionally beautiful, his bearing cold and aloof. His expressionless demeanor radiated an icy aloofness, as if he were oblivious to the ever-growing number of eyes gathering in the corridor.

He didn’t close the door, as if waiting for someone.

The servants of the Earl’s Mansion naturally assumed he was a plaything or lover privately brought in by the New Lady (that is, Tang Nian). They lingered at the boy’s doorway, occasionally peeking inside.

Lady Kali (the title by which the maids referred to Tang Nian), who had never been respected in the Earl’s Mansion, suddenly became one of the main subjects of the servants’ gossip.

The maid, her face flushed, lowered her voice and said, “Really, you have to believe me. Yesterday she kept walking around outside, ignoring the Morning Curfew, and insisted on asking me for ointment at the hottest time of day!”

“Was she alright?”

“I just delivered her meal, I didn’t see anything wrong with her.”

“Oh, right! She even thanked me! She actually said thank you to me, I was terrified!”

“What a strange person!”

Since when did a Master thank a servant?

The rustling discussion grew louder and louder, until it was suddenly interrupted.

“What are you all gathered here for?”

The maids turned around to see the stern Butler, Greco, standing behind them, and immediately fell silent in a panic.

Greco, however, was not about to let them off. He asked again, “What are you talking about?”

They were unwilling to admit they had come to see the Slave, though the blush on their faces was plain to see.

Someone stepped forward to change the subject. “That New Lady broke the Morning Curfew, walked around the mansion during the day, and even knocked on my door.”

“Such a crude person, completely without manners,” he sneered. “She’s of impure blood-a lower race.”

The New Lady’s reputation had never been good-reckless, keeping many lovers and favorites.

Undoubtedly, the newly arrived Slave in that room must be one as well.

Greco’s gaze shifted, his expression suddenly turning odd.

“Stop gathering here and go do your own work,” Greco sternly reprimanded them.

The maids left the second floor reluctantly, and the corridor finally quieted down.

Once everyone had left, Greco’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He raised his hand and pushed open the half-closed door.

“What are you doing?”

A cold female voice sounded from behind.

He stiffened, barely maintaining the dignity of an old-fashioned Butler, and turned to face the young lady who had appeared without his notice.

Tang Nian wore a cold smile. “Why are you in my Slave’s room?”

“This is a storage room,” Greco lifted his chin, looking down his nose at her. “So you’ve put your new pet here. As the family’s Butler, I must advise you to act wisely.”

In the Earl’s Mansion, the Butler was hardly considered a servant-almost half a Master himself.

A most unpleasant NPC.

Tang Nian suppressed her irritation. The Slave in the room was already looking over. She walked in, pretending to casually bring a bottle of ointment to the boy.

“For your wounds, use this. I don’t want my Slave to have scars.”

The boy stared at her, a flicker of unreadable emotion passing through his gray-violet eyes.

In the end, it became a very soft, “Thank you.”

He turned around and suddenly began unbuttoning his shirt.

Tang Nian’s eyes widened, and she turned away.

Why was he undressing so directly? Did he really think she had brought him to the Earl’s Mansion to be a lover?

Clearing her throat, Tang Nian said, “Don’t get the wrong idea. I brought you back because…”

She was interrupted by a low, cat-like whimper.

“What’s wrong?” she frowned.

The boy couldn’t say it.

The sound of fabric rustling-he seemed to be moving.

“Could you help me?”

Tang Nian turned around and saw two clear, glass-like gray-violet eyes set in an extraordinarily beautiful face, shining with tears, like an artwork come to life-a delicate puppet made real.

Meeting her gaze, he struggled to say, “My back… I can’t reach…”