CHAPTER 71: “HAVE YOU FORGIVEN HIM?”

Considering the innocence that never left Treasure’s face, an expression that lingered even while he slept, it was not so surprising that he was now arm in arm with the filth who called himself his protector.

His tender-heartedness... Taras knew this, of course. Yet, even so, as he watched the two from where he hid, the faint smile forming on Le An’s face somehow... caught him off guard.

And when Le An held Theo’s hand and began to guide him, that surprise gave way to a restless fury.

Ascending the stairs in shadow form, keeping pace with Le An, Taras almost shed his disguise before reaching the room, driven by his impatience.

He could feel the current rushing through his chest descend like a fog, clouding his ability to think. If only he could seize Treasure with his own hands right now, only then might he know exactly what he was thinking.

But he already knew. The moment Le An cracked the door open and stepped inside, Taras slipped free from the shadow pressing down on him, and he was absolutely certain of what he felt.

Why he had gone without guiding from anyone else for months. Why he couldn’t look away from Le An, not even for a moment. And why he could no longer tolerate others laying hands on Treasure.

It was just that... his mind refused to accept how such a powerful feeling—hatred—had suddenly turned into something just as strong, yet entirely its opposite.

As if... as if Treasure, no matter what form he took, already owned the greatest share of his heart.

Now Taras understood why the thought of not owning the greatest share of the heart before him drove him to the brink of madness.

Before Le An could step away from the door, Taras dropped his shadowed form, seized him by the arms, and shoved him roughly against it. "Ah!"

Le An flinched, holding his breath as pain shot through his arms. His eyes had barely risen to meet Taras’s face when he gasped, "Tar—"

But too late—footsteps echoed on the stairs.

Le An’s lips clamped shut as Theo appeared at the door. "Le An?"

His heart trembled as he panicked, glancing first at Taras, then upwards. The black veil was gone, the shadow like mist still clinging only to Taras’s body.

Theo could hear them.

Before Le An could even speak, Taras spun him toward the door and took a step back.

Taras leaned against the wall behind it, arms folded, and jerked his chin toward Le An.

Open it.

Le An’s lips parted in shock. His hand froze on the doorknob.

"Le An, can I..."

Le An cracked the door open and found himself staring straight at Theo’s face.

Theo, unaware that Taras stood just behind the door, searched his expression.

"Y-yes?" Le An stammered, his voice trembling as he spoke from behind the half-opened door, unable to tear his gaze from Theo.

"...I heard your voice. Are you alright? It sounded like you were hurt."

"I’m fine, I..."

Theo tilted his head, studying Le An’s face with confusion. Soon his eyes drifted past him, surveying the room.

Then his gaze returned to Le An.

Something was off. Theo could tell, of course. And Le An knew he could. That knowledge only drove him deeper into panic.

"My legs just... gave out for a moment," Le An stammered, his hand brushing his thigh. "And I stumbled. But I’m fine. Nothing happened."

Theo stared at Le An, his face pale as though his soul had drained away. Fear was etched across his features.

"May I come in?" he asked.

Le An’s eyes darted to the unmoving figure of Taras lingering in the corner of his view. He couldn’t see the blaze in Taras’s eyes, but he could feel them fixed on him, setting his body alight.

He looked back at Theo. "I’m going to bed now. Later, alright?"

This was too reckless. Why was Taras doing this? Why was he... angry?

"At least then..." Theo’s hand appeared through the gap in the door, his fingers brushing Le An’s cheek. "Let me check if you’ve got a fever. Your heart’s racing."

Le An trembled, leaning his face into Theo’s palm, nodding faintly. He murmured, "The people at the lab said these side effects might happen."

"I know." Theo’s fingers slid to his forehead.

Taras burned with the urge to tear those fingers off.

The thought of venting his fury by terrifying Le An only made things worse now.

Theo pulled back his hand, looking into Le An’s eyes with the frustration of a man who knew he was being lied to, yet couldn’t press the truth. He forced his expression steady and murmured, "It must be a side effect. If you feel worse, call me. Alright?"

"Yes. Alright." Le An nodded quickly, clutching the doorknob to close it slowly. "Tomorrow... I’ll see you tomorrow."

"Sleep... well."

Theo hadn’t even taken a step away when Le An shut the door gently, turning his eyes toward Taras.

A cluster of shadow rose from Taras’s body, weaving into that familiar black tulle around them.

Confident they couldn’t be heard, Taras murmured coldly, "He’s still outside the door."

Le An whispered back nervously, "Why... why did you do that?"

"Were you scared? Scared he’d walk in and see you alone with someone?"

Le An stared, unable to grasp the point he was making. Taras yanked him closer by the arm. Le An flinched.

"He’s still outside," Taras murmured again, his voice carrying an eerie calm.

Le An, pressed against his massive frame, cast his gaze toward the door helplessly.

Theo really couldn’t hear them, could he?

Taras’s hand slid from his arm to his back, pulling him tighter. He tilted Le An’s head toward him.

"Still thinking of ways to escape me? Can you trust him?"

"If he opens that door now..." Taras said, covering the same cheek that bastard had touched only moments ago.

"I think I’ll tear him apart."

"...D-don’t... say things like that." Le An looked at the unfamiliar face before him, bewildered. "W-why are you..."

"He’s still there." Taras pressed him gently against the door, staring into his wide eyes. "Will you ask him for help?"

"No," Le An blurted. "No, i-if I were going to... I’d have done it already!"

His whisper pitched into a near-shriek, his hands gripping Taras as if to shake him, to stop him.

In just a few days, this house, this secret, all of it would be nothing but the past for Treasure. Why, then, was he shrinking like a frightened child, glaring at him with accusation only because he was cornered?

Taras tore his eyes from his face, fixing them on the door with a cold, piercing stare. "Even knowing you lied, he still can’t come in. So docile."

Then his gaze dropped back to Le An.

His eyes roamed over flushed cheeks, damp lashes, trembling lips, before locking on him directly. "He can’t because he told you a far bigger lie, didn’t he? Or have you forgotten?"

Pinned beneath him, Le An struggled to breathe. "Haah... no. I haven’t for—"

But Taras cut him off.

"Have you forgiven him?"

His question bore straight into Le An’s eyes. Overwhelmed by the storm of fury pouring from Taras’s dark irises, Le An broke eye contact, trembling.

Of course he feared Taras—what he was capable of. Yet now, every reaction, every emotion Taras showed pulled him into a whirlpool. Fear, anger... they felt like mere details beside the weight of his presence.

And somehow, Le An could not wholly despise the poisonous emotions that bound Taras to him. For even in the most painful moment... there was still that face, the one that shook his heart.

Le An shivered at the realization of how dangerously close he stood to surrender.

"No," he whispered, giving up on silence. His voice was weak against him. "But forgiven or not... what difference does it make? Everything will change in a few days anyway."

"...True." Taras’s grip slackened, no longer hurting him, only holding.

"You may even never see him again," he murmured, watching Le An’s expression fall.

Taras’s eyes narrowed. That bastard would have to become someone who could no longer move Le An’s face at all.

As his gaze lingered on that expression, Le An unknowingly tugged lightly at Taras’s collar, drawing him closer. His lips parted with the same sorrow etched in his eyes—no, with something deeper. Desperation.

Taras would swear the words about to fall from those lips were meant for him. That certainty, coupled with Treasure’s helpless expression, felt like victory.

"Then... will I see you again?" Le An asked him with his trembling voice.

"..." Taras’s hand moved slowly over his back, pressing into the hollow of his waist. Le An’s body leaned forward, sinking against him.

"That’s a foolish question," Taras murmured, fingers tracing Le An’s spine.

From now on, there won’t be a single day you don’t see me.

Taras’s other hand toyed with a lock of hair brushing Le An’s shoulders. His hair had grown longer.

Taras thought Le An might let it grow further, once it was revealed he was an omega. Just like before.

The Le An he held now overlapped with the Le An he had first seen. His heart swelled with an indescribable feeling.

Taras was now lost in thought.

If I’d never heard that recording... would I really have gone through with what I’d planned to do to him?

His face hadn’t changed at all. Only his hair. And his hair is soft.

Would I still have the heart to harm you if I hadn’t listen that recording?

He tilted his head, studying Le An’s face for a long time.

Le An was in a daze too.

He held his breath, hoping the gentle touches on his back and hair—touches that almost felt tender—wouldn’t end.

The courage he had gathered earlier was gone, crumbled to dust. Yes, maybe it was foolish to ask if he would see him again.

But at least now, seeing him up close, he felt happy. If only little time remained, perhaps this was the only happy version of this moment he could ever remember.

When all the truth was exposed, when the guilty were named, the only way Taras would ever stand beside him in public was if Le An was condemned before everyone.

Le An exhaled a shaky breath and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to think about it.

"He’s gone."

For a moment Le An didn’t understand. "W-what? Ah..."

Theo.

Taras almost laughed at his dazed expression. Theo had left long ago, actually.

"I never thought of betraying you... what I mean is..." Le An murmured, voice honest but heavy. "I... on the contrary, I—agh!"

Taras suddenly lifted him by the waist, carrying him toward the bed. Off-balance, Le An clung to his shoulder. "Where—"

"I know," Taras said, his breath brushing against Le An’s stomach. "You’ve had countless chances to betray me. When you missed the first, I thought you a fool. Second, third... none of it matters anymore."

He lowered him onto the bed, seating him gently. "It doesn’t matter anymore."

Le An sat, hands folded in his lap, staring puzzled at the man standing before him.

But it did matter. He wanted Taras to trust him too... Ha.

What nonsense was he thinking? Lowering his head, a bitter smile tugged at his lips.

He still hadn’t come to terms with the fact Taras pitied him. And now he was sickly desperate for his... trust?

A mass of shadow slid from Taras’s body then, spilling toward the foot of the bed. It drifted left and right, then slowly crept upward, climbing onto the sheets.

Le An shivered.

"Don’t be afraid," Taras said, as he always did.

"I’m not afraid," Le An murmured while watching the shadow’s movements.

The shadow climbed, wrapping him like a blanket, curling around his lap. Taras sat beside him on the bed with calm movements.

Le An lifted his arm through the darkness, turning to him. "When you’re not... inside it, the shadow feels so much darker."

Taras nodded. The shadow swirled slowly around Le An’s body, as though sating a long hunger. "Come closer."

Le An glanced at their already-near bodies, then edged closer in confusion. "L-like this? For guiding?"

Taras sighed softly, eyes fixed on him. "No. Come into my lap."

Le An froze, face burning, thinking he’d misheard. Taras waited without moving. "Y-your lap?"

He gave the slightest nod. His patience tested again, yet Taras wanted Treasure to climb onto him on his own.

Le An rose from the bed and sat on Taras’s lap as his legs trembled. Taras slipped a hand beneath his legs, pulling him fully onto him, and placed his feet gently back on the bed.

His face aflame, Le An didn’t know where to put his hands. His heart was going wild.

Now trembling between warmth and cold, in Taras’s arms, Le An’s eyes stung. He bit his lip to hold back tears, but Taras’s voice reached him through his clogged ears. "Look at me."

When he raised reddened eyes to him, Taras’s grip tightened instinctively. "Are you scared?"

"No."

"Then why are you about to cry?"

"..." A silent sob escaped Le An. Shaking his head, he lowered his eyes again. But when a tear slipped from his lashes into the shadow, he broke. "I-I am scared. When, when all this..."

Hiding his face in Taras’s neck, Le An trembled like a child seeking refuge. Le An didn’t want to taste the cruelty of these hands.

He didn’t want the same hands that gave him this warmth to be the ones that punished him ruthlessly. "Hic, I can’t... I- ugh, what do I do? I’m scared..."

Taras froze, as he held his trembling body.

What went through Treasure’s mind? Was it him he feared, or what was coming? Was it the shadow? All together?

"There’s nothing to fear," Taras whispered, his lips brushing his hair. For a while, Le An refused to lift his face. His shoulders shook.

Taras sent the shadow away from them.

When the darkness lifted, then he saw.

Le An’s palms were scarred with nail marks. His arms bore scratches, some bleeding.

Needle marks, nail marks. Now tear stains too.

Le An slowly raised his head, with the stern feeling coming from Taras.

At that moment, three drops of blood fell from his nose, one after the other.

Le An clutched his nose quickly. "A-ah, my..."

Taras’s gaze rose to his face.

Blood streamed rapidly down Le An’s chin.

Le An pressed his palm to his chin, trying to rise from his lap."S-sorry. It happens someti-"

Taras scooped him up and strode to the bathroom. His mind churned, his arms tingling as he tightly held Le An.

He didn’t utter a word as he washed Le An’s face and carried him back to bed. Le An murmured something about experiments and medicine, but he barely heard it.

----

Later, at his home in Weannas, Taras noticed the dried blood on his jacket. He tore it off and flung it aside, running his hands harshly through his hair. "Ha... Fuck."

Minutes later, his cigarette burned away in the ashtray, untouched. He couldn’t shake the image of Le An’s dimming eyes. His tear soaked, bloody face.

Hadn’t he noticed? He had. The body growing weaker day by day, the medicine forced on him, the injections. The fading color of his skin. The silenced, faltering voice.

"He’s... withering." Taras murmured.

When Maxim saw him standing at the window, he froze in the street. As he cursed under his breath, he stormed inside.

"Well, well! Look who finally graces us with his presence! Where the hell—"

"How... how do I bring him back to how he was?"

Taras turned his head, asking flatly. Maxim stared at him blankly for a moment. "..."

"You can’t," he finally said, glaring at him with fury.

Taras stared back, just as furious, as if he’d just heard the one answer he couldn’t bear.

"Goddamn it..." Maxim rubbed his face, thinking hard. "How should I know? Why are you even asking? Like... To grant a prisoner’s last wish? Or... is it something else?"