Cody Onassis was Joyce Chade’s enemy. Yet, even if a person kept a vicious hound by their side long enough, affection might eventually bloom—let alone between human beings possessing warm blood and rich emotions.
Beneath the icy hatred, perhaps there remained a sliver of attachment that he had not even realized himself. Lin Yao pressed his hand against his chest, a place that had long been filled with the sensation of vengeance, where bloody scenes of the past had never truly faded.
The real Joyce Chade no longer existed in this world; not even his soul remained. All that lingered was the residual hatred from that time—an emotion that would not change with time, and would only dissipate from Lin Yao’s body once revenge was fully realized.
Yet if the real Joyce Chade were here, he too would surely feel something for a man whose deep affection remained steadfast despite everything. Even if he tried to fight it—Lin Yao attempted to immerse himself in that feeling, slowly releasing his clenched palm.
Upon his pristine white palm, the red marks left by his fingernails were striking and painful to look at. The intimacy when he was first discovered—the struggling, the refusal to yield—was because he refused to submit beneath an enemy, and refused to let their first time be taken so easily. But his later numbness, and even his deliberate attempts to drive Cody away, was that not because he, too, was afraid?
Cody could fall in love with his enemy and find himself unable to strike him down. What about himself?
Many mistakes were made despite knowing they shouldn’t be. But if a person could truly control their own heart, they wouldn’t be human.
“I won’t fall for him; I’m not crazy,” Lin Yao muttered to himself, looking at his palm. He couldn’t tell if he was deceiving himself or trying to deceive others.
Outside, the grand decorations went up with great fanfare, as if proclaiming how much the king-to-be cherished the queen he was about to marry, and how utterly discarded the beauty locked within this palace truly was.
The System racked its brain, completely unable to fathom why its Host—who had been lounging around as if in retirement just moments ago—suddenly radiated such an extraordinarily tragic aura.
That desperate, suffocating sorrow—the kind one tried so hard to conceal yet couldn’t suppress—instantly rendered the System as quiet as a church mouse. Generally speaking, whenever the Host acted in ways it couldn’t comprehend, it meant he was entering full acting mode.
Humans really are miraculous creatures.
Lin Yao carried on as usual—walking, sitting, resting. He made no demands to go outside, nor did he ask about Cody’s whereabouts. He seemed to move through the world entirely alone, only occasionally staring blankly out the window, mesmerized by the fiery red blossoms outside.
Posuo Flowers were just as red as fire, but they possessed a mysterious, ominous air—enchanting, yet making one hesitate to touch them lightly. Red roses were different; they bloomed in wild abundance, scattering their fragrance far and wide. With a gentle pluck, their delicate petals would stain the fingertips with color, leaving behind a lingering fragrance that brought pure delight.
Compared to Posuo Flowers, most people preferred roses—just like him.
The beauty inside the hall did not sigh or wallow in gloom; he continued to live like a serene priest. Yet even the attendants who kept their heads bowed couldn’t help but feel a pang of heartache for him. Someone so breathtaking, locked away here by the Prince—his tears and smiles hidden from the world, left to slowly wither like a blossom at the height of its bloom.
Sadly, even if he withered, it was not their place to care. Anyone who dared to meddle suffered a terrible fate. The Prince, who had returned from the battlefield covered in blood, possessed an overwhelming sense of possessiveness. Even the things he cast aside were not meant for others to covet.
“Did he eat this little again today?” An attendant held a tray of food that had turned stone-cold. Despite the lavish ingredients—no one had the heart to treat such a beauty poorly, not even the Prince—the meals brought inside were returned nearly untouched after only a bite or two.
Even a bird ate more than this, let alone a human being.
“What should we do? If this goes on and something happens to him, the Prince will surely punish us,” another attendant whispered, not out of fear of punishment, but out of genuine pity for the man growing thinner by the day. “Should we have the kitchen prepare another portion to bring in?”
As they quietly discussed the matter, neither noticed a pair of long legs coming to a stop right behind them. A hand with long, slender fingers reached out and took the tray from their hands.
Both attendants turned pale as paper, bowing respectfully in an instant: “Your Highness.”
While they trembled in terror, Cody looked down at the completely cold meal, his voice dropping into a heavy tone: “How many times has it been?”
“The High Priest, he—” The attendant caught himself mid-sentence and immediately dropped to his knees in panic. “No—Lord Yao hasn’t eaten much for three days now. It seems he has a poor appetite.”
“A poor appetite?” Cody did not reprimand him. He simply handed the tray to the other attendant and ordered, “Have another portion made, and call the physician over.”
“Yes!” The two attendants retreated hurriedly, as if fleeing for their lives.
Cody stood before the doors, his hand resting against the wood, hesitating for a moment. The man who deceived my feelings looking like this now, what on earth is he after this time?
Yet no matter what he was plotting, Cody was determined not to let him achieve his goal again.
He pushed the doors open forcefully, stepping inside. The vast hall seemed empty at first glance, and he couldn’t spot the man immediately. Turning a corner to search, he finally caught sight of an excessively frail figure kneeling upon a soft cushion.
The man was softly chanting prayers exclusive to high priests, his eyes closed. Though his lips were moving, he appeared utterly serene and obedient. His gorgeous long hair cascaded down his back without a single stray lock out of place.
Although he had lost a considerable amount of weight, he still looked as breathtaking as a delicately sculpted statue.
“You don’t need to send meals anymore, I’m really not hungry,” came the clear, gentle voice, completely devoid of any gloom. It had been a long time since Cody had heard him speak like that.
“You have to eat even if you aren’t hungry,” Cody said, pulling up a chair and sitting down with a relaxed, domineering posture. His words expressed concern, yet his tone held none. “After all, if you starve to death, you won’t be able to get your revenge.”
The low chanting ceased. Lin Yao turned around, looking at the relaxed figure sitting there, a complex flicker passing through his calm eyes: “Does Your Highness have need of me again?”
“You refusing to eat—isn’t it just to force me to come?” Cody’s heart churned with turmoil, yet his face remained entirely impassive. “I’m here now. If you have something to say, speak.”
“Your Highness really is clever,” Lin Yao murmured, slowly standing up. The hem of his robes and the strands of his hair hung downward, swaying gently with his slow steps.
He sat down across from him at the table, his overly pale hands pouring water into a cup, only for the liquid to come out icy cold. “I wanted to offer Your Highness a drink, but I didn’t realize the water was cold.”
He made a motion to pour it out, but Cody reached over and took the cup from him. His fingers brushed against Lin Yao’s ice-cold fingertips, but he feigned ignorance, tilting his head back and swallowing the water in one gulp.
The frigid water was just like his fingertips—bitterly cold, enough to extinguish any warmth remaining in his heart. “If you have nothing to say, I’m leaving.”
He made a move to stand, only for a pair of hands to gently press him back down into his seat. The moment their hands met, Cody realized the man’s skin felt cold as ice.
Cody withdrew his hands from beneath his, tightening his fists involuntarily as he set them to the side.
Lin Yao let out a soft laugh, paying no mind to Cody’s hasty movement. “I only wanted to say that Your Highness is about to wed your Queen soon. It really isn’t suitable for me to remain here—whether as a lover or an enemy, keeping me here is inappropriate.”
“You want me to let you go?” Cody unfurled a slight brow, as if unable to comprehend why he would make such a foolish request. “You are my enemy. Do you really think I would let you walk free, only to come back and deal with me again? Let me tell you—short of dying, don’t even dream of leaving Onassis for the rest of your life.”
“Your Highness, do I look like a fool to you?” Lin Yao looked up at him, entirely unbothered by his harsh words. Instead, a faint, relieved smile touched his features. “I brought about the deaths of your father and brother; in truth, my revenge is already exacted. As for killing you, I fear I’ll never be able to accomplish that in this lifetime. I don’t want to wait that long, nor do I want to remain locked up here forever. So please grant me a swift death, Your Highness.”
“You want me to kill you?” Cody’s grip on the armrest tightened violently. “If you truly want to die, you can kill yourself.”
“I’m afraid of pain,” Lin Yao smiled without a trace of gloom, his eyes curving into lovely arcs, as if he weren’t discussing his own death at all. “Though it might sound conceited, I think I’m fairly good-looking, so I don’t want to die looking hideous. Hanging, throwing myself against a wall, or slitting my wrists, they all leave a gruesome corpse. If I die, at least one of us will have exacted complete revenge, won’t we? Keeping me around will only make your future Queen uncomfortable. For the sake of Onassis—”
“Shut up,” Cody said softly.
Lin Yao looked up in surprise: “What?”
“I said, shut up!” Cody surged to his feet, grabbing Lin Yao’s wrist—a wrist so slender he felt a sudden illusion that it might snap under his grip—and yanked him upward.
The cup tumbled to the floor, shattering into a sharp cascade of sound. An attendant who had been about to enter with a fresh tray froze in shock, then hurriedly retreated outside.
Cody glared at the man inches away from him, his voice sounding as though it were squeezed through gritted teeth: “Are you saying all this just to make me suffer? To make yourself feel that I still love you deeply and can’t bear to hurt you? Then let me tell you—you’re wrong! The Duke’s daughter is far more beautiful than you, gentler than you, and far more considerate. You are not unique, nor are you irreplaceable. No one can remain the most beautiful flower in the world forever. Elina was like that before, and so are you now. Do you understand?”
As Cody finished, he abruptly released his grip, watching Lin Yao collapse against the table. Lin Yao’s chest heaved slightly, his fists clenching tightly as he bit his lip, turning his gaze toward the doorway.
Silence descended upon the hall.
Yet the moment Cody stepped outside and was about to order the attendants to bring the food in, something suddenly struck him. Pushing past the attendant who was about to enter, he took long strides back into the room.
Blood flowed freely, winding its way down from that delicate wrist as if taking his very life with it. The wound was so deep that it was clear the owner had left himself no way out.
“Yao!” In that single fraction of a second, Cody felt as though his heart had stopped beating. His fingers frantically unclasped his cloak, his hands trembling violently as he tried to press down on the deep wound.
Yet even the thick fabric was quickly soaked through by the steady stream of blood, a vivid, harrowing red.
“Your Highness, why did you come back?” Lin Yao leaned against his chest, his eyes flickering faintly, his once-vivid lips drained of all color.
“Don’t speak! The physician will be here soon. I won’t let anything happen to you—I won’t!” Cody held him tightly, only to realize that the man’s body felt terrifyingly cold. It was a coldness that filled him with unbearable regret for everything he had done. His usual composure flew away like a flock of startled birds, and he roared at the doorway in pure fury, “Where is the physician?”
The attendant who had gone to fetch the physician rushed back inside. Seeing the scene before him, his knees went weak. He stepped forward to treat the wound, but looking at such a deep cut, even his scalp went numb.
“Your Highness, you must lay him on the bed. The floor is too cold!” The physician wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Cody lifted Lin Yao directly and placed him onto the bed. His hands were slick with sweat, yet he had no intention of leaving, staring unblinkingly at every move the physician made.
Yet no matter what treatments were applied, the bleeding showed no signs of stopping.
Cody grabbed the physician by his collar: “Can you save him or not?”
“Your Highness, the wound is too deep! The styptic herbs aren’t working at all. If we can’t stop the bleeding, his life cannot be saved!” The physician spoke truthfully, his entire body trembling.
Normally, they wouldn’t—and couldn’t—save someone who was intent on seeking death. But this happened to be the person the Prince held closest to his heart. If he failed to save him, he might not walk out of this palace alive.
Lin Yao’s eyes had narrowed into slivers. Closing his eyes, he gently pulled at Cody’s other hand, seeming as though he wanted to say something.
Cody leaned down, but the moment he heard the words, he felt as though a wound had been ripped open in his heart, raw and bleeding.
“If only we weren’t enemies, how wonderful that would be.”
Yes. If they weren’t enemies, he could love the person he wanted to love, laying all the treasures in the world before him—instead of deliberately acting distant, deliberately tormenting him, deliberately humiliating him, and intentionally letting him misunderstand.
“Yao, don’t sleep! Hold on!” Cody stroked his ice-cold cheek, his voice laced with frantic desperation. “If you can hold on, I won’t marry anyone else. Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you—alright? Yao!”
Darkness descended, and the last thing Lin Yao heard was Cody’s incessant calling of his name.
He seemed truly panicked. Lin Yao had never heard him lose his composure like this before.
He wouldn’t die. The cut on his wrist looked terrifying, but it was merely terrifying in appearance. As long as it wasn’t submerged in running warm water, the blood would soon clot.
Nor would he actually commit suicide; if an employee of the Task Force committed suicide in a mission world, their bonus would be deducted.
To reclaim this man’s love and trust, blind submission naturally wouldn’t work. Only by using extreme measures to shatter their twisted relationship, ensuring the man couldn’t let go, and then striking at the most painful and anxious spot in his heart, could a path to survival be forged.
Cody had deliberately arranged his own wedding decorations outside the hall to show him, to make him feel miserable—carrying a subtle, unconscious intent to test his true feelings.
Naturally, Lin Yao had to give him a response and the result was this.
Lin Yao slowly opened his eyes. His wrist still ached slightly, but surrounding him was a deep, enveloping warmth. Strong male muscles wrapped tightly around his waist, while hot breath brushed against his neck, their breathing intertwined with a trace of lingering affection.
Lin Yao turned his head slightly. The man’s face was as handsome as ever, radiating masculine charm up close. Cody had always been meticulous about his appearance, but the man lying beside him now had dark circles under his eyes and stubble dotting his jaw.
He wasn’t ugly—just worn out and exhausted.
Lin Yao studied him intently. When those deep, azure eyes suddenly fluttered open, Lin Yao slowly turned his head away: “Your Highness.”
He tried to address him in a cold, distant tone, only for Cody to grab his chin and capture his lips in a kiss.
Their lips and tongues entwined, robbing Lin Yao of almost all the breath he had just recovered.
Cody would sleep with him, but it had been a long time since he had kissed him like this. Lin Yao tried to turn his head away, but Cody pursued him relentlessly, pinning his chin and refusing to let him dodge.
“Your Highness, don’t.” Lin Yao raised his hand to push him away, only for Cody to catch his arm, gently lowering his injured wrist back down.
Cody hovered over him, his eyes dark and deep: “Don’t move. Don’t get hurt again, Yao I was terrified.”
A person’s life could be taken easily, yet saving it was so difficult.
Only after experiencing it firsthand did one learn fear, and know true dread.
“Cody.” Lin Yao looked into his eyes, meeting an azure gaze filled entirely with profound worry and unwavering love.
As a soft kiss brushed against his lips, both of them subconsciously chose to temporarily ignore the deep divide standing between them.
Some people love each other yet cannot be together. Many things cannot be mended or smoothed over by explanations or mutual understanding alone; all that remains is a tacit agreement to forget.
Lin Yao’s wound healed quickly. Within three days, he was able to get out of bed and walk around.
In the palace, preparations for the wedding were still underway. Lin Yao said nothing, though every time he caught sight of the decorations, a flicker of displeasure crossed his eyes. Yet Cody insisted on pulling him along to stroll around various parts of the palace anyway.
He would ask if this arrangement looked good, or if that set of decorations was pretty and to his liking.
“It’s fine,” was the best evaluation Lin Yao could bring himself to give.
Looking at it is suffocating enough; how good could it possibly be?
“Are you angry? Don’t be—I’ll take you to see the most beautiful sight in all of Onassis,” Cody said, taking his hand and holding it tight.
His palm felt dry and warm. He led Lin Yao up the high tower within the palace grounds, even opening the narrow passage that climbed up even higher.
“Going up from here leads to the highest point in the entire royal capital,” Cody chuckled softly. Looking at the iron climbing ladder set completely perpendicular to the ground, he bent down, hoisted Lin Yao over his shoulder, and casually patted his rear. “Hold on tight.”
“You!” Caught off guard, Lin Yao hung upside down. Had his long hair not been bound by a ribbon, it would have swept the ground. Yet Cody didn’t mind in the slightest; securing Lin Yao’s waist with one hand, he scaled the ladder single-handedly—looking as though he had climbed it countless times before.
The peak of the tower was somewhat narrow. Lin Yao had a smaller frame and curled comfortably inside, but Cody was considerably larger. He wasn’t heavy, but his frame was solid and muscular; nestled inside, Lin Yao had no choice but to press closely against his chest.
The passage was shrouded in darkness, terminating at a hatch door. Cody casually pushed it open, and a violent gust of wind whipped their hair together into a tangled mess. Yet that was not what captured their attention.
What held them spellbound was the breathtaking panorama before them. Tens of thousands of twilight rays poured over the land, bathing the entire royal capital of Onassis in streams of warm orange light, as if every building were sculpted from solid gold.
Even the tiny figures moving about below looked like miniature models, yet they bustled with the vibrant energy and prosperity of human life.
In the distance, the peak of Mount Pris sparkled like an embedded gemstone under the dazzling light.
“That’s the lake on Mount Pris,” Cody held him tight by the waist, leaning down to laugh soft against his ear. “You really are feather-light—feels as though a stiff breeze could blow you right away.”
“I’m not that light,” Lin Yao grumbled softly.
“You ought to eat more,” Cody nuzzled his cheek affectionately, pointing out various corners of the city below. “Look over there—that’s a bustling market with all sorts of trinkets, delicious fruits, and lovely flowers. But you have to learn how to bargain. Don’t be naive and pay whatever price they ask, or you’ll get cheated terribly. And over there—that’s the central plaza of the royal capital. The fountain doesn’t run every day, but that’s where the most children gather, and where it’s most lively.”
Cody spoke softly and steadily. He seemed to know every inch of the city like the back of his hand, describing each spot with vivid clarity, as if he had walked those streets countless times.
Lin Yao thought as much, and asked him so aloud.
“You’ve always stayed inside the Grand Shrine and never had the chance to properly explore the royal capital. In the future, I’ll take you around,” Cody swept away a stray lock of hair that the wind had blown across his face, smiling softly.
“Do you like this view?”
It was prosperous and full of life, infinitely more beautiful than the cold, desolate shrine. Lin Yao nodded slightly: “I like it.”
“I like it too,” Cody rested his head gently on Lin Yao’s shoulder, his tone solemn, as if unearthing something buried in the deepest reaches of his heart. “When I first discovered this spot back then, I thought to myself: How wonderful would it be if I could make every city under the sun look just like this?”
“Is that why you launched wars against other nations?” Lin Yao’s voice carried an involuntary tremble.
“No,” Cody sensed his reaction and wrapped his arms even tighter around him. “Back then, I was merely a boy dreaming of unifying the world. You were probably just born not long before that. At the time, Onassis was still weak—and on this land, weakness meant being preyed upon. Looking down from here, everything seems peaceful. But when I walked through the streets and alleys and saw that our people didn’t even have enough to eat, while our kingdom suffered constant pillaging from neighboring nations, I set my mind on that path.”
“Living long in indulgence, those kings, nobles, and even their soldiers became laughably weak,” a trace of disdain lingered in Cody’s words. “Campaign after campaign made Onassis strong, but those systems also reduced the people of conquered nations to slaves. With so many cities, Onassis didn’t have enough people to truly govern them all. It’s just that before I claimed the throne, I lacked the power to change those systems.”
He had envisioned becoming a benevolent ruler; his ideals were so far ahead of his time that others found them incomprehensible.