Louis slid the key into the lock, only to quickly realize that the door wasn't locked at all.
He stepped inside. The room was pitch-black, with only faint moonlight streaming in from outside.
When Louis entered, a shadowy figure suddenly sat on the bed. Silver-white hair, a face just as pale—Louis nearly thought he'd seen a ghost.
But no, this was Aboli. Without a doubt, it was Aboli's appearance.
Perhaps it was the night's stillness, but Louis's actions and words felt even gentler than usual—though, to be fair, he was always gentle.
"Aboli, you're still awake? Or… did I wake you?" Louis moved over to prepare his sleeping place, asking her with concern.
Aboli lowered her gaze without a word, her posture heavy with sadness.
When Louis finished washing up and came out, he saw her still sitting on the bed, tears falling in a steady stream, glittering like beautiful pearls in the moonlight.
When she saw Louis, she pressed her lips together and turned her face away, as if she didn't want to face him—or perhaps didn't want him to see her cry.
Louis flexed his still-aching arm and couldn't help thinking, Come on, I'm the one who's hurt here!
Still, he dutifully carried out his role of offering comfort.
"What's wrong? Why are you crying? Did someone bully you?"
Aboli finally looked at him, her eyes fixed on his—there was no need for words; her expression said it all.
Louis couldn't help but let out a small laugh. "What could I have done to you? If anything, you're the one who hurt me. Look, it still hurts even now."
As he spoke, he waved his hand in front of her.
Aboli bit her lip, took his hand, and spoke in a justified and wounded tone: "You… you said you'd send me somewhere else. That you didn't need me anymore…"
As she spoke, tears streamed down her cheeks again, her sorrow heartbreaking to behold.
Good grief… if I didn't already know the plot, I might feel touched, Louis thought. Aboli deserves an Oscar.
After all, just a few hours ago, she—or one of her subordinates—had handed him an invitation card. Even without opening it, knowing the plot meant Louis already knew where it would lead.
Aboli was planning to drive him straight into danger, then leave him to live or die on his own—yet here she was, crying in front of him as if she were deeply in love with him.
Well… maybe she did like him, which was why she didn't kill him outright, but chose to do this instead.
Still, the "affection" of lunatics always came with a heavy price. Louis thought with a trace of self-mockery, then pulled Aboli into his arms, gently comforting her. "Alright, I won't send you away. Don't be sad anymore."
After a pause, he added softly, "I'm sorry." Even though he had done nothing wrong.
Aboli threw her arms around him, thrilled, thinking Louis was sensible. Of course, it was already too late—but that didn't matter. She could still appear at a critical moment to save him, like an angel descending from the heavens, and the naïve Louis would surely be moved by her.
No, better yet, she could get hurt for his sake. Then Louis would be bound even tighter to her, compelled to make it up to her.
Just imagining it made Aboli's body tremble excitedly—she almost laughed.
"Louis, am I in your heart?" Aboli suddenly spoke, her voice slightly hoarse.
Louis was still holding her, and at her question, he replied, "Of course you are."
"Just me alone?" Aboli pressed, her tone betraying an excitement she couldn't hide.
Louis: "…"
He didn't answer. Aboli, a little displeased, clutched his shirt before quickly letting go. "I want to open your heart and see who's inside."
In a mock-pampering manner, Louis pushed her away and tapped her nose. "Don't say such nonsense. You're far too young to be talking about gore like that. Go to sleep."
With that, he quickly retreated to his sleeping place, pulled the blanket over himself, and went to bed.
Good Lord, Aboli, drop that idea already!
Even with his eyes closed, Louis could feel Aboli's gaze—so sharp it felt almost tangible, piercing straight through him, as if she were still deciding whether or not to cut his heart out right then and there.
In the end, Louis must have drifted off from sheer exhaustion after who knows how long, and Aboli finally looked away.
Mother, you're so foolish, so naïve… she thought. God, I can't even bring myself to be that ruthless.
Aboli slipped into bed beside Louis, wrapped her arms tightly around him, buried her face into his neck, and inhaled deeply with an almost intoxicated longing before sighing and drifting off to sleep.
If only Louis would hold me back…
Her thoughts began to crystallize—she wanted to get hurt for Louis's sake, to make him feel indebted, to make him repay her with his whole self.
She wanted Louis's heart—his genuine, sincere heart.
The next morning, Louis woke to find Aboli clinging to him like an octopus. By now, he was used to it. After reminding her a few times to get up, he took her to the café.
She really should have gone alone, but Louis had to show his "care," so he escorted her anyway.
Louis yawned, licked the trace of nutrient pouch left at the corner of his lips, and typed a message.
Hurting Because of Sylus: [I'm going to Zone 5.]
On the other side, the "typing" dots kept appearing and disappearing for quite a while.
Louis couldn't help but wonder—What exactly is Sylus typing?
Then, all of a sudden, an image popped up. It showed a wolf-cut hairstyle in gray streaked with silver; from this angle, only the sharp jawline was visible, along with broad, muscular pecs revealed by the deep V-cut of a loosely laced corset-style shirt.
Within seconds, the image was deleted.
Hurting Because of Sylus: [?]
Hurting Because of Sylus: [Nice chest.]
Louis figured that chest had to be at least twice his own size—and it was obvious from just one glance that the bounce would be impressive.
Sylus: [Good eye. In the end, only a perfect body can find an ideal mate. No need for you to feel inferior.]
I'm not feeling inferior. I think I'm the most beautiful person in the world, Louis thought, not bothering to type it out.
Sylus: [With such a boring soul, how do you even have a lover?]
Sylus: [As expected, your standards must be far too low. Heaven help us—don't give up on what you truly like just because you're lonely, and don't go for leftover scraps. Your other half would only suffer for it!]
Louis felt fortunate he didn't have a lover—because if Sylus had spoken about his partner like that, he definitely would have cursed him out.
He lifted his phone, snapped a selfie, and sent it over.
Hate Sylus: [image]
Hate Sylus: [Returning the favor.]
In the photo, the young man brushed back slightly damp hair, water droplets still clinging to his face from a recent shower. Below was a slender neck and pronounced collarbones, his posture relaxed and unrestrained.
It was Louis's first selfie since regaining his memories, and the more he looked at it, the more he found it beautiful.
He admired himself for a while and didn't think he looked narcissistic or pretentious.
Sylus: [Look at you, so flirtatious.]
Sylus: [What's with that pose? You're saying, "Look at me, I'm the most handsome man in the world." Hahaha, I've got goosebumps.]
Sylus examined the picture—nothing remarkable: black hair, which went against the hair colors he preferred; a flawless face, sure, but paired with such an over-the-top expression that it was almost comical, as if this fool thought everyone would like him.
His photo was different—no face shown, only firm, vibrant pecs. That was real beauty.
Sylus: [Now I know why you praised my chest. Hah, you must not have one yourself!]
Louis didn't bother replying, letting Sylus prance around on his own.
He pulled a card from under his pillow—a white invitation with gold lettering. The moment he opened it, a faint fragrance drifted out.
It was an invitation to the Silver Mansion in Zone 6 for a party.
The storyline had mentioned this before.
The party at the Silver Mansion would be held within a week—a place of indulgence for various powers. Inside, there would be all kinds of entertainment and underground dealings that couldn't be conducted in other zones. It was a gathering of countless forces, and there was even a chance that some bosses from Zone 1 might show up.
Well, with Aboli there, they already had a boss present. Louis thought this with a trace of mockery.
In the story, this is where Aboli meets with two of her subordinates—the Demonic Twins.
The two brothers were obsessed with the idea of a savior, longing for one with fanatical devotion.
They would happily walk into a trap, then cling to whoever rescued them, proclaiming that person to be their savior.
But if that "savior" didn't have the power or the benevolence befitting such a role, it wouldn't be long before their head was separated from their neck and nailed to a cross.
It's fine, it's fine—it's just dealing with a few psychos. The craziest one sleeps next to me every night, so what's there to be afraid of? Louis told himself as he began to get ready, knowing that tonight the young master would send someone to pick him up.
"Didn't she ask to leave work early? She hasn't gone home yet?"
That afternoon, when Louis went to the café to pick up Aboli, the shop owner gave him this reply.
Under the man's hesitant, conflicted gaze, Louis left the café.
When he arrived home, he found a black business van parked outside his rundown neighborhood. The window rolled down, revealing the youthful face of the young master.
"Hurry up," the boy ordered.
Louis nodded, went inside to change, and still couldn't tell whether this was a young master or Aboli in disguise.
He changed into another outfit, even thoughtfully leaving a note for Aboli—though he knew she would never return to read it.
The bodyguard had already opened the car door for him. Louis got in and was immediately met with the unblinking stare of the young master.
Alright—now he was certain. This was Aboli in disguise.