Lin Yao sat in front of the mirror, combing his hair with slow, absentminded strokes. Even his System—whose intelligence felt as though it had been reassigned entirely to other parts of its body—could tell something was off.
[Host, what’s wrong with you?]
Could he be sad because Cody didn’t come? The System thought anxiously.
Men really are all scumbags. No sooner does one scumbag leave than another arrives, one after the other in an endless line.
Lin Yao traced his fingers over the comb, a persistent feeling of unease settling over him. In his estimation, Cody didn’t seem like the type to reject him simply because he had been defiled by Kathy. While he couldn’t rule out that possibility entirely, it was far more likely that Cody had realized something.
“It’s nothing,” Lin Yao said, his hand coming to a halt. “We might be able to leave this world very soon.”
Even if Cody had picked up on something now, it was too late to change the course of events. The plot he had painstakingly orchestrated over eight long years was more than enough to strip that man of everything he owned.
[Huh?] The System’s processor stalled once again.
Cody arrived around noon. Draped in luxurious silk, wearing knee-high riding boots, and boasting sharp facial features framed by cascading golden hair, he looked devastatingly handsome—enough to make anyone’s knees go weak.
Yet, the moment Lin Yao saw him, he quietly turned his head away. Despite his conflicted demeanor, he couldn’t help but steal a few cautious glances back at him.
“What’s wrong?” Cody asked, stepping up to his side. He took Lin Yao’s hand, gently stroking his palm.
The hand felt like cool jade, smooth and devoid of calluses, soft as if completely boneless. Such a hand looked fit only for tending flowers, incapable of wielding swords. And yet, it was far more terrifying than any hand that bore a weapon.
“Are you angry with me?” Cody let out a low, soft chuckle, studying Lin Yao’s expression. “I really had business to attend to last night. Oh, by the way, I have news for you: Kathy is dead.”
Lin Yao’s body trembled slightly, but he said nothing.
“The man who violated and humiliated you is dead. Yao, aren’t you happy?” Cody’s tone echoed the question Kathy had asked atop the city walls.
Kathy had asked if he was happy that Elina was dead. Now, Cody was asking if he was happy that Kathy was dead.
These two really are quite alike.
“Did you kill him?” Lin Yao asked, his lips quivering, his eyes filled with apparent fear and anxiety.
Cody met his gaze, his smile tender and warm. “No, he truly committed suicide. I would never stain my hands with the blood of my family—just like your hands, which will remain forever clean.”
Lin Yao furrowed his brow, only to feel his hand being pulled against Cody’s chest. The heart beneath beat rapidly, but more notably, the crystal-clear, colorless gemstone embedded there shifted to a deep, brilliant azure at his touch.
“I merely told him that everything he claimed to have said and done was nothing more than a dream,” Cody said, playing with Lin Yao’s delicate fingers in a slow, provocative manner. Yet the words leaving his mouth sent a chill straight down Lin Yao’s spine.
Lin Yao was confident in his abilities, but that didn’t mean he looked down on the inhabitants of this native world. Anyone capable of ruling a nation and commanding an army possessed their own sharp brilliance; thus, he had always acted with utmost caution.
Being exposed by Cody was one of the potential outcomes he had anticipated—he just hadn’t expected it to happen under these circumstances.
“What is it, Yao?” Cody reached out to trace the corner of his eye. “There are no gods in this world, yet you managed to make Kathy live through a dream so vivid he believed it was real. The moment he heard the truth, he went mad. My Yao really is extraordinary.”
His words were laced with frost, even as his touch remained as tender as a lover’s. Lin Yao’s expression faltered for a second. The feigned trembling vanished, and his delicate weakness melted away into a calm, detached cool.
“Since you already know everything, what do you intend to do?” Lin Yao asked coldly. “Kill me?”
“I certainly wanted to,” Cody’s voice deepened into a dark tone. “My father and my brother both died because of you. I should hate you to the bone. I should lock you in the foulest dungeon, feed you scraps, and leave you among the most desperate, ravenous prisoners. A beauty like you, they would go mad with delight.”
Lin Yao felt no fear at the prospect. Having cast off his disguise, he didn’t even bother pretending anymore. The mission was near completion; he only needed to bide his time until the right moment to exit this world.
“But sharing you with them would be a waste, wouldn’t it?” Cody suddenly broke into laughter. “I, too, appreciate beauty, and I have the desires of any man. Rather than letting them have a turn, I might as well do it myself.”
Before the last word faded, Lin Yao looked up, only for a large hand to completely cover his eyes. In the darkness, the man’s strength was overwhelming; no matter how hard he tried to break free, it was futile.
Lin Yao could risk revealing his hidden identity as a prince of the Chade royal family, but he could not reveal his identity as a member of the Task Force. Exposure would destabilize the world’s structure—costing him not just the mission, but a heavy penalty in star credits.
Worse still, according to the lore of this world, the more powerful a high priest’s magic was, the weaker their physical body would be.
A draft hit his chest as the sound of tearing fabric echoed through the room. A strip of black cloth replaced the palm over his eyes, binding his sight, while his wrists were pinned down. Warm palms stroked his neck, pressing just hard enough to serve as a reminder that taking such a fragile life required barely any effort at all.
His body seemed accustomed to this man’s touch. As his earlobe was bitten, warm breath brushed against his ear, devoid of any tenderness: “Cry out. If I’m pleased, maybe I’ll go easy on you.”
Lin Yao possessed an innate stubbornness. The more he was pushed to beg for mercy, the less willing he was to yield. “In your dreams.”
“Heh. It seems I’ll have to make you suffer a little first.”
Subtle, damp sounds echoed within the palace, accompanied by a man’s ragged breathing, yet devoid of any willing response.
Outside, the guards kept their eyes glued to the floor, pretending to notice nothing. Even knowing what was transpiring inside, none dared speak a word. In this land, the ruler’s word was law; even the gods were merely tools for political control.
The noises inside continued late into the night. By the time the night guards were nearly nodding off, a muffled, sweet sound slipped out—clear, honeyed, and thoroughly unrestrained. It was the sound of someone desperately trying to hold back, yet ultimately failing, kindling a sudden fire even in the most disciplined soldier.
Soft, prolonged, and breathy, it sounded as though he had been loved to his absolute limit, robbed of all strength to endure. The subtle sounds drifted out beneath the moonlight, so alluring they seemed capable of entrancing the moon itself.
After an entire night of turmoil, Lin Yao’s chest heaved violently, his consciousness hanging by a thread.
He had never experienced intimacy so intense, so unrelenting. This primal, instinctual physical act was far more maddening than simple foreplay. The sensation of his mind feeling like it was burning away was truly terrifying.
A kiss landed on his lips, but Lin Yao refused to beg for mercy. Though their bodies fit together with frightening compatibility—almost making him feel as though they were still lovers—as a survivor of the Chade royal bloodline, he would never surrender to his enemy, no matter how coerced he was.
“Yao, you really are breathtakingly beautiful. No wonder people would risk their lives just to possess you,” Cody said, his voice husky, laced with lazy, magnetic satisfaction. The post-coital languor suited him, radiating an irresistible charm. “Keeping you as a captive pet rather than treating you like a lover, it really does make things much lighter and easier.”
Lin Yao ignored him. Words were useless now. If Cody were the type to release him over a few words, he would be a fool.
“Silent?” Cody pinched his wrist, kissing his jawline. “Then let’s go again. Yao, you are so beautiful. I’m genuinely afraid that one day, I’ll end up dying on top of you.”
When Lin Yao remained silent, Cody resorted to every means possible to force a response from him, stopping only when Lin Yao could no longer endure the strain and fainted.
Slender fingers finally untied the black cloth over his eyes. Long eyelashes, still damp with tears, cast soft shadows, while the flush at the corners of his eyes had spread further.
Unlike his porcelain-white face, every inch of his body was marked with traces of heavy affection. Because his skin was so delicate, blood had even welled up in a few places—a tragic, pitiable sight, yet impossibly captivating.
When he lay quietly on the bed, he seemed so soft and obedient. Yet a beauty with such a face knew precisely how to leverage his charms to drag everyone down into hell with him.
Cody knew he hated this man. In this vast, empty palace, he was the sole survivor; his father and brother were both gone, leaving behind a coldness that chilled him to the bone.
And yet, he loved him deeply. Yes—he loved him so much that he couldn’t bear to see him hurt or tormented by others. Even after taking his body, he could never touch his heart.
He even felt the foolish urge to ask that one pathetic question: Have you ever loved me, even just a little?
But he already knew the answer. There was no need to deceive himself.
Between Prince Cody of Onassis and Joyce Chade of the fallen royal house, lay a blood feud—a vengeance so deep that even burning through both their lives could never erase it.
When Lin Yao woke up, he shifted his body slightly, his brows knitting together. The excruciating soreness throughout his body made him grind his teeth in quiet fury.
The cowardly System didn’t dare utter a single sound. Even without a human body, it could tell its Host was in an exceptionally foul mood.
Didn’t the Host say he didn’t care about physical intimacy? Why is he angry now? Humans really are strange creatures.
However, Lin Yao’s anger didn’t stem from the act itself—whether taking the dominant or submissive role, as long as it felt good, he wasn’t one to overthink it. But being forced into it, and worse, deriving pleasure from it despite himself—that was definitively not part of his plan.
[H-Host, was this your first time?] The System asked timidly.
Lin Yao’s face darkened by another degree. [Shut up!]