CHAPTER 772: THE ANATOMICAL PROPOSAL

Throughout breakfast, every student of the House of Exorcism glared at Adam. While the girls sneered, commenting half mockingly on how pretty he was, the boys were more serious.

Adam saw Jonathan shake his head with a sigh of disappointment. Though the first light of morning had just replaced the glow of the moon, the youth waved his ink-stained hand, as if to convey that Adam had lost the right to even speak to him.

Brad, who had been so eager about Adam joining the exorcist yesterday, avoided his gaze. The way his lips twisted each time he gazed at him and how he tried to mask his displeasure by stuffing steaming rice into his mouth, spoke louder than words—especially his white knuckles around the silver fork.

Ridiculous comments about how he had become one of the House’s top five beauties after Isolde’s curse made him clench his jaw. They didn’t sound like jokes. Even worse, he caught unmistakable grins that might have belonged to wolves rather than humans. Were they thinking about... No way... Were they crazy?

He focused on sipping his tea as he watched Quintella, her hands made sticky with honey, butter, and cream, devour pastries and pies. A soft chuckle escaped his lips. They were all she needed to silence the world around her.

Well, not quite perfectly.

She pointed a greasy finger the moment a purple-haired youth, who earned even more scornful glances than Adam, sat beside them unceremoniously. "We have no space to share with you, sleep wrecker." She waved her hand, honey almost staining Desmond’s dark uniform.

Adam arched a brow as Desmond raised his hands to shield himself.

"Easy," Desmond said, a smirk playing on his lips. "I’m not here to taunt you. Well, maybe a little since you’ve boarded the boat of the outcasts. Hahaha." He extended his hand toward Adam, finding humour in the unforeseen situation and whistling as his eyes lingered a second too long on the cursed student’s protruding chest. "Seems we’re the same right now, so I’m extending an olive branch. Let’s get along, or at least try to."

Quintella voiced her objection, while Sarah, who had remained silent, pursed her lips. But Adam’s sky-blue eyes only narrowed. There was a glint, an unmistakable yearning in the youth’s gaze—loneliness. If he forgot the lecherous grin, that is.

For a moment, he silently observed Desmond’s hand. The boy was barely fifteen, an undisciplined kid, but a kid nonetheless. Ultimately, he sighed as he shook Demond’s hand. "Why not? Try not to awaken us with your screams, and everything should be fine."

"No way!" Quintella’s eyes widened, and she slammed her palms on the table. Plates and silver cutlery clanged with her voice. "I don’t like him, big brother!"

Desmond simply sneered at her. "You pummeled me on the ship, but dislike me? Get your facts right, pipsqueak. I should be the one to dislike you, but here I am, burying the battle ax."

Adam nodded. "Try to bear with him, Quintella. Perhaps he’s not that bad."

"Not that bad?" Sarah rolled her eyes, rising from her seat. She suddenly sat ten seats away. "I’d rather associate with an evil ghost. Trust me, you two can still clear your reputations. Him? Impossible." Her gaze lingered on Quintella, something unreadable flickering in its dark depths. "You don’t like him anyway, so let’s hang out together while your big brother does what he wants."

Adam saw Quintella’s pink eyes dart between the three of them hesitatingly. He knew she would choose to stay with him, but that was not what he wanted for her. After all, the other students lost a hundred points because of him, not her. He bore the stigmata of isolation, not her. More importantly, he wanted her to be less dependent on him, make her own friends, and flourish in happiness.

He patted her blonde hair, his lips curving into a gentle smile. "Go." He simply nodded.

"But—"

He cut her off. "I’ll watch over you during Grimhilde’s first class. Meet with the others in the meantime."

Quintella lingered for a moment, feeling that Adam was trying to protect her. "I don’t need it," she muttered, lips quivering. But Adam’s confident gaze, his manly smile despite his feminine features, all pushed her to rise from her seat, albeit hesitatingly. I want to stay with you."

"I know." He shook his head. "But that’s not what you need. Trust me."

She glanced at him over her shoulder one last time before she dragged her feet to Sarah.

"Finally alone." Desmond’s smirk broadened as he leaned closer to Adam. He grabbed a lock of hair, the soft strands sliding on his palm like water. "I’ve heard that Isolde’s curse will fade tonight." His gaze plunged to Adam’s chest as he rubbed his hands. "It’d be a pity not to make the most of it, right? You know what I mean... We’re both men, a woman’s body..."

Lips pursed, Adam reflexively covered his chest. His other arm shot out like a lunging viper. He gripped Desmon’s hand, his thumb pressing against the last phalanx of his index finger. The boy tried to free himself, but Adam began to push, making the finger’s bone groan.

"Alright, alright!" Desmond let out a strangled gasp. "I’m sorry."

Adam nodded, loosening his grip until the foolish youth spoke again.

"Touching your chest is enough. Come on! Don’t be stingy! I’m sure you wouldn’t have minded if it weren’t for the curse."

"Sure." Adam’s voice grew icy as he suppressed his twitching hand from reaching for the boy’s skull. "Why don’t we do it the other way then? We find Isolde, she curses you, and I touch your chest."

Against his expectations, Desmond’s eyes brightened. "Yahooo! Let’s do it after I touch yours first." His grin reached his eyes. "You’re lucky I’m not like you. You can touch me anywhere! I’m curious about how a girl feels in those moments!"

"..." Adam froze for a moment, eyes wide, hand going slack around the teenager’s fingers.

Was Desmond seriously that crazy? Not even five minutes, and he already wanted to slap the boy to oblivion.

"Anywhere you say?" His gaze sharpened like two drawn blades as his lips curved into a maddened smirk, every word pronounced in an innocent girl’s voice. "I’m eager to touch your heart, liver, and spleen. Ah... I can’t help but imagine their warm texture. Come. Let’s find Isolde now."

Blood drained from Desmond’s distorting face as he recoiled against the back of his chair. He almost toppled over, caught off guard by Adam’s sinister anatomical fascination.

When he spoke, his voice quivered, eagerness replaced by a stutter. "I-It was a joke. Forget about it. Hum... Classes will soon start. I’d better go before Teacher Maxwell punishes me."

Sneering mischievously, Adam watched the kid bolt out of the common hall.