CHAPTER 133: THE BODY’S STRANGE REACTIONS — JOSHUA AND HIS BEST FRIEND (PAST)

Luther felt as if lightning had struck him from a clear sky.

He held Joshua tightly, murmuring, "Impossible, Joshua..."

At that moment, Joshua turned his head to look at him.

Luther’s eyes were red, and tears were already streaming down his face. His beautiful features—blurred with tears—only made him look more fragile and pitiful.

But Joshua had not forgotten what this pitiful-looking man had just done to him.

With just one hand, Luther could restrain him so entirely that he couldn’t escape.

Joshua had always been grateful to Luther—because Luther never abandoned him when he fell ill, and he never once showed disgust.

He really was a good person.

But romance? Joshua didn’t think he could do that. At the very least, he truly had no such thoughts toward Luther.

Joshua gently wiped the tears from Luther’s face. Luther instinctively leaned into Joshua’s palm, eyes filled with pleading.

Joshua pressed his lips together, struggling as he said, "Don’t be like this."

Hope flickered faintly in Luther’s eyes.

But then Joshua continued, "Either act normal again, or we’ll be nothing at all, Luther."

Luther froze. He stared at Joshua, despair flooding his expression.

Joshua could only say firmly, "Because we’re a team, Luther. Our career is still there."

Luther suddenly smiled—a smile uglier than crying. "If we weren’t in the same group... you’d never see me again, would you, Joshua?"

Joshua said nothing.

Luther lifted Joshua’s face with both hands. "You’re heartless, Joshua... how can you be so cold?"

Joshua grabbed Luther’s wrist. "I don’t like you. If I gave you hope, that would be a sin."

Luther let out a hollow laugh, though his tears continued to fall. Joshua couldn’t help feeling a bit pained; he lowered his gaze, saying nothing.

"I’d rather you see me as just another fish in your pond, one among countless others..." Luther whispered.

But Joshua raised his hand and pressed it directly over Luther’s mouth.

"Don’t degrade yourself like that, Luther. And besides, I don’t keep fish."

At that moment, the car came to a stop.

They had arrived at Joshua’s apartment.

Joshua didn’t hesitate for even a second. He shoved Luther away, opened the car door, and stepped out.

Bang!

The door slammed shut. Luther could only watch Joshua’s retreating figure.

The driver was silently sweating bullets.

He had never expected to witness his young master’s confession—much less see it fail so miserably!

He hadn’t even managed to raise the privacy partition in time.

Now it was too late. Young master, please... just don’t fire me.

As soon as Joshua got home, a video call from Nine came in.

He was exhausted—his whole body restless and uncomfortable, heat simmering under his skin as if he’d swallowed something he shouldn’t have.

"It can’t be that bad... it was just a kiss..." Joshua muttered, answering Nine’s call at the same time.

Nine’s voice exploded through the speaker, cheerful to the extreme:

"Joshua, that’s amazing! The mission timer was a whole month, and you finished it already!"

Only after shouting did Nine realize Joshua wasn’t on screen.

He frowned. "Joshua? Where are you?"

The screen wobbled, then Joshua’s face appeared—slightly flushed, lips swollen red, his mouth still marked from being kissed so roughly.

In an instant, Nine’s expression darkened.

He moved out of frame, voice low. "What happened?"

Joshua mumbled, "Nothing happened. If there’s nothing else, I’m hanging up."

Nine scowled, but before he could say anything, the call ended.

He sank onto the sofa, eyes turning pitch black.

It had to be Luther. Joshua only went out with him and came back looking like that.

Whatever the reason, Luther deserved to die. He deserved to die!

Why was everyone trying to seduce Joshua?!

Joshua just wanted to focus on his career!

And he was still here—wasn’t it obvious who it should be?!

Why did all those wolves out there hover around Joshua like hungry beasts?!

Damn it!

Just then, his phone vibrated. A message from Joshua.

MyJ: [Luther’s secret is that he likes me. He confessed, but I rejected him. I guarantee this won’t affect the mission.]

Nine fell silent.

Of course. Joshua wouldn’t like anyone.

But Nine couldn’t help thinking— What if the one confessing had been Henry?

Thinking about it again, Henry was definitely the one who deserved to die the most.

But when Nine recalled the fansign from that day, he hesitated.

Just what was Henry, anyway...

Joshua had no idea about Nine’s messy train of thought.

He hurriedly shut off his phone because something in his body felt... strange.

A slick, unpleasant sensation leaking from behind made Joshua jolt upright immediately.

Face flushing, he panicked and glanced back—then rushed straight into the bathroom.

It was as if a small leaking faucet had opened at the base of his spine; he couldn’t stop it.

Joshua sat in the bathtub, hands covering his face.

He genuinely didn’t understand what on earth was happening.

What exactly had happened in his previous life?

Was the timeline in his memories even correct?

What was wrong with his body?!

Joshua knew he wasn’t normal.

He wasn’t human—he didn’t need food, didn’t have everyday human needs, yet he was forced to pretend otherwise.

But now, the abnormalities were becoming more and more obvious... and in ways Joshua could never predict.

His whole body felt unbearably uncomfortable.

Frustrating. Suffocating.

Why did these things have to happen to him?

He just wanted to live.

Joshua wasn’t that weak, but in the end, all he could do was hug his knees and muffle the miserable, trembling sounds in his throat.

Father... Mother... Louis... Henry... where is everyone...?

...

"New experimental specimen confirmed to have rarity rating Tier 1 — ’Life,’ humanity’s next hope. Proceed with—"

"Subject condition deteriorating. After assessment, based on observations, initiate creation of a companion—"

...

In the vast laboratory, all four walls were giant transparent panels, the bright lighting designed so that everyone outside could observe clearly.

Joshua sat inside a containment cage, wearing an oversized lab coat that reached his calves, a knitted cap pulled low so not a single strand of hair showed.

His body was shockingly thin.

Bruises covered his arms from constant injections.

His eyes stared into empty space, unfocused—those once bright, shimmering eyes now dry and drained of hope.

Suddenly, the door opened.

Joshua flinched violently, instinctively retreating into the corner, hands covering his head.

But the door shut again quickly.

Joshua blinked, eyes turning red from fear.

Then came footsteps—uneven, clumsy, dragging.

Joshua stiffened, then looked up blankly.

Approaching him was a small, roughly-built robot, only about a meter tall, its limbs mismatched as it stumbled toward him.

A bright blonde wig hung crookedly on its head.

Its "face" was an electronic display flickering with characters before resolving into a pair of round eyes and a simple mouth.

Its green-lit eyes blinked once, then closed.

A cheerful mechanical voice announced: "Hello, buddy! I am your very best friend!"