“Systolic pressure seventy-nine, diastolic pressure forty, body temperature thirty-nine point five.”
“Give him a nutritional injection.”
The cottage door was opened, and the cold afternoon wind howled in. The female Alpha and the driver looked up to see Rommel crossing the threshold, expressionlessly making a gesture. It meant for them to leave.
The two subordinates exchanged knowing glances, stood up, and left. The door closed again. Rommel walked to the bedside and looked down at his captured prey.
The north-facing residence was originally backlit, and in the gloomy winter about to snow, it was even more dark and damp. The bed was small and low, and the prey would not feel comfortable. Rommel’s gaze fell on his forehead, where fine wrinkles were indeed formed, seemingly still full of dissatisfaction even in unconsciousness.
But when he lay there unconscious, his entire body seemed enveloped in an extremely soft and ethereal light, making the simple and messy cottage appear extraordinarily charming.
This was not the first time Rommel had felt this way. He exhaled, finally sitting on the bed’s edge, lowering his head to carefully examine the familiar face before him, once again confirming the source of that subtle light – too pale.
Like a white, beautiful marble repeatedly polished and carved, weathered by time and years, still pristine, still radiating an innocent yet sharp brilliance in a world growing increasingly bleak and aged around it.
Why? He thought mockingly: This is clearly a monster.
Rommel slowly extended his hand but did not truly touch, sliding just a finger’s width away from Si Nan’s unconscious cheek.
He still remembered when he was very young, sitting angrily in the garden, waiting for the car carrying “that woman” to pass by. He had forgotten the specific facial features of that woman, but the shocking charm of that moment of seeing her in person, and the twisted disgust born from it, were deeply preserved in his heart.
Exactly the same as this nominal younger brother.
He had once thought of murdering this weak, bullied child more than once – in the luxurious and decaying manor, achieving this goal was actually very easy. But one night, while sneaking into Noah’s bedroom under the cover of servants, staring at his adopted brother, contemplating whether to strangle or choke him, he suddenly felt a barely visible halo around him.
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Like water flowing over white porcelain, spreading out soft and implicit nuances.
Perhaps it was the fine light from the garden fountain, or perhaps an illusion caused by the cold moonlight.
- He’s a monster, he told himself.
He decided to kill this little monster with his own hands. He placed his hand on the other’s thin neck, and then Noah woke up, beginning to struggle and scream, creating loud collisions; his father rushed over, declaring an end to the murder attempt.
That was when he was eleven and Noah was six.
Since then, he had never been able to get close to Noah while he was sleeping defenseless like today, because approaching him would wake him up. As if the attempted murder that night years ago had left a deep mark in his subconscious, enough to alert his most sensitive nerves even in sleep.
Rommel’s fingers finally descended, brushing past the closed eyelash tips.
Those eyelashes were dense like raven feathers, and hands accustomed to holding guns would develop gun calluses, actually unable to feel such a subtle touch.
But Rommel’s breathing became somewhat tight, slowly leaning down.
When their breaths were less than two inches apart, Si Nan suddenly opened his eyes.
Rommel’s movement stopped, their eyes meeting for seconds. He smiled slightly and sat up: “Noah.”
The anesthetic’s effect was still present.
Si Nan’s gaze was blurry for a moment, gradually focusing on Rommel’s face, slowly revealing a clear, unmasked wariness:
“You… are…”
“Do you remember who I am?” Rommel observed his expression. “Hmm, it seems there are indeed aftereffects.”
Si Nan’s mind was somewhat confused, his chest rising and falling uncomfortably, fever not yet subsided.
“When I saw you lying here just now, I thought of the year you first entered the Florida military’s secret base…” Rommel laughed to himself: “I had already been in the base for several years. One night, while patrolling the dormitories, I went
Luomuel picked up a jar of maple syrup from the bedside, leisurely opened the lid, and scooped out a full spoon of golden sweet syrup under Si Nan’s sudden gaze: “Do you know why you got sick?”
“…”
“Because you lack sugar. Your modified body has a high demand for sugar, otherwise you will quickly weaken, with heart and lung metabolism and respiratory functions being affected. In severe cases, you might even… die.”
“No matter whether you’ve been hiding alone or with someone during this time,” Luomuel revealed a mocking smile: “Clearly, they haven’t given you the most basic care.”
Si Nan said hoarsely: “…They will come back for me.”
Luomuel seemed to hear a joke: “Oh? Come back to the city center swarming with millions of zombies to find you?”
Si Nan seemed to be stabbed hard and fell silent.
Luomuel put down the maple syrup jar, steadily holding the spoon emitting a sweet fragrance with his right hand, and gently stroked Si Nan’s forehead with his left thumb: “Noah.”
Si Nan remained silent.
“Kiss me once. Just once. Like how you kissed that special forces soldier surnamed Zhou back then,” Luomuel tempted in an almost tender voice: “This entire jar will be yours, okay?”
A hint of surprise flashed across Si Nan’s brow, as if hearing something bewildering – but immediately after, he glanced at Luomuel, his eyes clearly showing disgust. He pursed his dry, cracked lips and turned his face directly towards the inner wall, closing his eyes.
Absolutely decisive without hesitation.
Luomuel seemed to have expected this, not only smiling but deepening his smile: “Good… very good.”
He splashed the spoon of maple syrup and then pulled out a silver-glinting suitcase, opening it to take out instruments and coils. He wrapped the red and blue wires around Si Nan’s wrist restrained by handcuffs, rendering him unable to struggle.
Si Nan suddenly opened his eyes and jerked his body upward!
- An electric shock device!
Chaotic memories flooded in, the blonde, blue-eyed young man from that laboratory overlapping with the face before him – they were the same person!
Luomuel pressed a hand on Si Nan’s neck, firmly pushing him back onto the bed, looking down at his eyes, exceptionally bright in hatred. He asked: “Where is the freezer box you carried with you after crash-landing?”
Si Nan had no idea what he was talking about, tightly pursing his lips.
“Where is the item?”
Still no answer.
“I should have known…” Luomuel slowly nodded, taking a breath: “Tenderness is indeed not suitable for you.”
As soon as the words fell, he gritted his teeth and resolutely pressed the electric shock device.
Confession Agent.
Jian was surprised but quickly controlled his facial expression, pulling out the syringe and handing it over.
Romuel slammed the door shut behind him.
Si Nan looked like he had just been pulled out of cold water, his wet hair covering his snow-white face. The pale blue blood vessels protruded on his arms and neck, and even his tightly closed eyelids faintly revealed terrible blue lines.
Romuel expelled the air from the syringe, grabbed one of his hands, and gritted his teeth as he injected the entire dose.
