The Fallen's Guide - chapter 23

Even though they had only just met, the young man inexplicably developed a sense of dependence on her, as if Tang Nian was someone he could trust.

“…” She spoke calmly, “Turn around.”

Taking the ointment, she sat behind him. “Lie down.”

The young man pressed his lips together, trembling slightly at her command.

He quietly lowered himself, propping his arms on the pillow, arching his seemingly slender yet tightly muscled back.

Without a doubt, he was a very easy-to-manage Slave.

If Tang Nian ignored him, paid him no attention, he would quietly stay within the small world she had set aside for him, never disturbing or complaining.

Tang Nian knew this.

He was so beautiful, admired by others, yet extremely obedient-more so than most servants.

But what troubled Tang Nian was that she saw something in the young man’s eyes that she could not respond to right now, such as the way his eyes lit up when he saw her, the pure joy and trust.

That would not do.

“Have you ever brought home other Slaves before?”

It seemed he had overheard the Butler’s words.

Her fingers paused, stopped by the black metal around the young man’s neck.

“I have,” Tang Nian answered carelessly.

With her back to him, she couldn’t see how his eyes quickly turned cold.

The Slave still wore a Collar around his neck; it had not been removed.

Upon inspection, she found a few letters engraved on the inside of the Collar, rough to the touch.

Samuel.

Tang Nian lifted the Collar in her hand and asked, “Who are you?”

“I…” He clutched his clothes and shook his head seriously. “I don’t know.”

She recalled what the people at the auction had said: he had been drugged, remembered nothing, as clean as a blank sheet of paper.

This was interesting. The game provided no background for this young man. In other words, no one knew who he was.

But this game would never let you romance a mere passerby, no matter how beautiful they were.

Tang Nian twisted open the door and wandered through the classical manor, heading to the Gardener’s wooden shed to fetch some tools.

Shadows in the darkness stirred, emitting inaudible buzzing sounds after Tang Nian left.

‘Liar.’

‘You’re lying.’

‘Lies.’

The young man slowly sat up, unbuttoned his collar.

He muttered softly to himself, “Be quiet.”

The dark shadows crawling on the ceiling, along the window frames, and in the cracks of the floor slowly expanded and writhed, like an invisible beast of darkness, buzzing in protest, about to engulf the entire room.

‘You remember.’

‘You know.’

But as the door was turned open, those restless shadows vanished in an instant, as if they had never appeared.

“Let me try this on you.”

The Gardener followed Tang Nian in, tall and burly, his eyes fixed intently on the Slave lying on the bed.

He brought the heavy iron pliers used for garden repairs. At Tang Nian’s command, he snapped back to his senses and went over to clamp the slender black Collar around the young man’s neck.

Tang Nian stood by the bed, watching as the Gardener struggled to squeeze the iron pliers with both hands, afraid he might break the young man’s seemingly fragile neck.

But unexpectedly, after all the effort, not even a mark was left on the Collar.

“What material is this…”

The Gardener dropped the tool and couldn’t help but complain, his gaze falling on the young man’s lowered neck, where he could vaguely see a hint of red.

During the process, the rough iron pliers had accidentally scraped his skin.

Yet the Slave made no sound, nor did he cry out in pain, so quiet it made one feel guilty.
Tang Nian grabbed some tissues and pressed them against her scraped skin, telling the Gardener, “You can leave now.”

But she noticed something strange-the Gardener’s eyes suddenly turned red, truly red, like murky red glass.

He seemed not to hear Tang Nian at all. He stared straight ahead and stepped toward the bedside, nostrils flaring, as if sniffing for something.

Tang Nian’s voice grew cold as she repeated, “Leave!”

The Gardener snapped back to himself, his broad, rugged chest heaving unnaturally. He quickly pinched the barely visible trace of blood on the tip of his iron pliers, clenched his hand, and his whole face twisted violently.

He couldn’t hold the iron pliers steady-they fell to the floor with a loud crash. Startled, the Gardener hurried away as if fleeing from something.

The whole sequence of reactions was far too bizarre, and those dark red eyes left Tang Nian with an intensely uncomfortable feeling.

Something was stirring in her mind, about to break through the surface, when her wrist was gently grasped by someone.

The boy looked at her silently, having approached at some point, now standing very close.

Too close-Tang Nian caught a faint, almost imperceptible scent of blood at the tip of her nose.

So sweet.

She licked her lips. Suddenly, her vision began to darken in waves.

Hungry.

So hungry.

She hadn’t eaten in a long time.

Why did his blood smell so… sweet?

The boy was like a delicate puppet, his thoughts lagging behind.

Ever since he gained memory, he had been passed from Master to Master. No one had ever wanted to unlock his Collar. They only wished to bind him with harder, more intricate Chains, locking him inside a Golden Cage.

Never to set him free.

“Thank you,” he said, his tone blurred.

She touched the small letters on the Collar and curled her fingers, quietly hiding the blood-stained tissue in her hand. “Then, I’ll call you Samuel.”

After speaking, she sniffed the tissue in her hand, trying to tell if that sweet scent was just an illusion. Suddenly, she froze.

Her expression flickered with confusion.

How could it smell so good?

Hungry…

So hungry…

A tidal wave of hunger crashed over Tang Nian’s will like a terrifying tsunami. After two days trapped in the game without food, she was nearly overwhelmed by the gnawing hunger.

Her gums itched, and her tongue flooded uncontrollably with saliva.

The boy who had just received a name now had a strange, dazzling light in his gray-violet eyes. He murmured to himself, repeating, “Samuel, Samuel…”

It was as if he was both resisting the name and rejoicing in having received it.

His eyes shone as he softly said, “I like this name.”

Tang Nian stood up, instinctively trying to avoid him.

Every word the boy spoke was a disaster for her now, a strange kind of temptation.

She had always thought she wouldn’t be interested in someone’s appearance. Yet at this moment, the boy behind her seemed especially delicious, like a soft and harmless lamb, exposing its tender, sweet belly, waiting for a beast to pounce and tear it apart.

She didn’t want to be the beast.

But the boy, oblivious to danger, kept coming closer.

Having received a name, he couldn’t help but want to be close to her, to hear her call him by it, to confirm its reality.

“It’s a good name.”

“Don’t come any closer,” she struggled to resist the invading scent, but her thoughts grew sluggish, as if coated in resin, gradually solidifying.

She hadn’t noticed when dawn broke.

Compared to summer’s long days, the night was indeed too short.

The morning light wasn’t even that strong, yet it stung her skin painfully, as if it were about to burn.

Why did sunlight hurt so much when it touched her skin?