The Beauty with Poison E-Book

Chenyue Shuang

• Herausgeber: via tolino media
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

"The more handsome a man is, the more poisonous he is." The affectionate and kind-hearted Zhou Huan, who was destined to be surrounded by admirers, was originally a humble person in the troubled times. Greed for wealth led him to be tricked and taken to the palace by mistake, accidentally ending up in the emperor's bedchamber. Just after indulging in the pleasures of the flesh, he faced imminent danger. Initially only wanting to escape and survive, Zhou Huan unexpectedly glimpsed the unknown bitterness and helplessness deep within the puppet emperor's heart. "He stands high above everyone, enjoying the wealth and splendor of the world, surrounded by thousands of beautiful women in the imperial palace. Who would have thought that this vast palace wall is actually just a huge prison?" Accidentally getting dragged into this world of fierce competition and survival of the fittest, Zhou Huan chose to confront the challenges. With his shrewd and flexible mind, he maneuvered between various factions, facing opponents like the lonely emperor who was high in position but whose inner loneliness was unknown to all, the general who loved him deeply but found it difficult to express his feelings, and the swaggering and unrestrained wandering swordsman. Dealing with these beautiful women, Zhou Huan suffered greatly, but he also relied on his courage and daring spirit to turn danger into safety again and again. Let's see how Zhou Huan uses his wits and bravery to fight with these beautiful women, turning a losing hand into a winning one, and achieving a legendary story of a humble person's rise to success and winning the heart of a beautiful woman.

Leseprobe

The Beauty with Poison

Shuang Chenyue

Published by Great Wall Publishing, 2024.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.For permission requests, write to : [email protected]

THE BEAUTY WITH POISON

First edition. May 28, 2024.

Copyright © 2024 Shuang Chenyue.

Written by Shuang Chenyue.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

The Beauty with Poison

Table of contents

Volume One: Listen to the Dragon's Roar

Chapter One: Mistakenly on the Dragon's Bed

Chapter Two: Tragedy in Ecstasy

Chapter Three: The Human Seal

Chapter Four: The Emperor's Fate

Chapter Five: A Forbidden Love

Chapter Six: Deep Father-Son Bond

Chapter Seven: Proximity

Chapter Eight: Sneaky Maneuvers

Chapter Eight: Sneaky Maneuvers

Chapter Nine: Concealed Pregnancy

Chapter Ten: Turning Crisis into Opportunity

Volume Two: Against the Current

Chapter Eleven: Beauty in the Arms

Chapter Twelve: Regret Meeting Too Late

Chapter Thirteen: The Feast of Prosperity

Chapter Fourteen: The Lamb to the Slaughter

Chapter Fifteen: Beyond Control

Chapter Sixteen: A Heroic Rescue

Chapter Seventeen: Where Affection Begins

Chapter Eighteen: Gains and Losses

Chapter Eighteen: Gains and Losses

Chapter Nineteen: Proximity to Virtue

Chapter Twenty: A Turn of Events

Chapter Twenty-One: Cutting Through Thorns

Chapter Twenty-Two: On the Eve of Battle

Chapter Twenty-Three: A Lone Rider Enters the Fray

Chapter Twenty-Four: Sudden Changes

Chapter Twenty-Five: Turning Against Each Other

Chapter Twenty-Six: Cunningly Provoking Penelope

Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Young Phoenix's Pure Voice

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Unresolved Enemies

Chapter Twenty-Nine: A Great Gift

Volume Three: The Unveiling of the Hidden Dagger

Chapter Thirty: Delight in Your Presence

Chapter Thirty-One: Bait and Hook

Chapter Thirty-Two: Battle of Words

Chapter Thirty-Three: A Chance Encounter

Chapter Thirty-Four: The Perverse Habit

Chapter Thirty-Five: Heartwarming Lotus Seed

Chapter Thirty-Six: The Most Unreliable Thing is the Human Heart

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Falling into the Mortal World

Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Beastly Nature of Man

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Plotting

Chapter Forty: Confession

Chapter Forty-One: Severing Ties

Chapter Forty-Two: The Incident at Mausoleum Rudolf

Chapter Forty-Three: Utter Defeat

Chapter Forty-Four: The End of the Line

Chapter Forty-Five: Defense Through Offense

Chapter Forty-Six: Long-Awaited Reunion

Chapter Forty-Seven: Fortunate Missteps

Chapter Forty-Eight: Substitute the Plum for the Peach

Chapter Forty-Nine: Karmic Retribution

Volume Four: Sailing Through Thousands of Sails

Chapter Fifty: Between Sovereign and Subject

Chapter Fifty-One: The Power of Public Opinion

Chapter Fifty-Two: As Cold As Ice

Chapter Fifty-Three: Chasing Love Across Miles

Chapter Fifty-Four: A Couple's Harmony

Chapter Fifty-Five: The Truth Revealed

Chapter Fifty-Six: Reconciliation

Chapter Fifty-Seven: Candied Hawthorn

Chapter Fifty-Eight: Apprenticeship

Chapter Fifty-Nine: Willing to Suffer

Chapter Sixty: Through Thick and Thin

Chapter Sixty-One: Deep Bond Between Master and Servant

Chapter Sixty-Two: The Mount Azmon Hunt

Chapter Sixty-Three: Crown Prince’s Marriage Decree

Chapter Sixty-Four: What Is Righteousness?

Chapter Sixty-Five: Different Minds

Chapter Sixty-Six: A Risky Move

Chapter Sixty-Seven: Luring the Tiger Away from the Mountain

Chapter Sixty-Eight: Disoriented

Chapter Sixty-Nine: Skin-Deep Pain

Chapter Seventy: Words Against the Heart

Chapter Seventy-One: Turning the Tide

Chapter Seventy-Two: Negotiating with the Tiger

Chapter Seventy-Three: The Lantern Festival Incident

Chapter Seventy-Four: Pursuing the Assassin

Chapter Seventy-Five: Unjustly Accused

Chapter Seventy-Six: Clearing the Mist

Chapter Seventy-Seven: Parting Ways

Chapter Seventy-Eight: Who Wins and Who Loses

Chapter Seventy-Nine: Sleeping with Weapons at Hand

Chapter Eighty: A Promise Fulfilled

Chapter Eighty-One: The Choice to Return

Volume One: Listen to the Dragon's Roar

Chapter One: Mistakenly on the Dragon's Bed

On a moonless, windy night, perfect for murder, the cold chirps of cicadas resound through the old trees.

Timothy Shaw didn't know who first said this, but he thought it perfectly described his current situation.

At this moment, Timothy stood before a pit in the ground. Inside the pit lay a man, head bleeding and face ashen, while Timothy, holding a shovel, was tirelessly scooping dirt into the pit.

The man's face in the pit was gradually being buried under thick layers of soil. From the beginning until now, Timothy hadn't dared to look into the pit. He was a bit superstitious and feared that the man might suddenly open his eyes while being buried.

"If you don't mess with me, I won't mess with you. You made the first move. I didn't want to kill you!"

Timothy gasped, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he spoke.

Yes, Timothy had never aspired to be a murderer. For eighteen years, though idle and lazy, he abided by the law and was a model citizen. Just six hours ago, while wandering the streets of Poiema, he couldn't have imagined he'd be burying a corpse in an unknown forest in the middle of the night.

Indeed, everything had started six hours ago.

Timothy was born and raised in Poiema, a true Poiema native. His family made a living selling perfumes and spices, owning a modest business that was enough to support them.

On this particular day, Timothy was wandering aimlessly in the street when an old man with a face full of wrinkles called out to him.

The old man scrutinized him from head to toe, sighing, "What a handsome young man, with such striking features."

The old man pulled Timothy aside and, after some questioning, learned that he was a local of Poiema, living an idle life at home. The old man said, "I know a wealthy family plagued by misfortune recently. They consulted a sorcerer who said they need a young and handsome man to perform a ritual to ward off the bad luck. If Mr. Shaw is willing to come with me, there will be a generous reward."

Timothy loved money, and upon hearing of a generous reward, thought to himself, "How could I miss out on such an opportunity?" Without much thought, he readily agreed.

As it turned out, his greed led him to this predicament.

Timothy followed the old man into an alley and was ushered into a flower palanquin.

The palanquin had no windows, its sides sealed tightly, making it feel like a large, sealed box with only a thumb-sized hole at the top, allowing some light to filter in for ventilation.

This made Timothy uncomfortable. He wondered if this was how rich people behaved nowadays. It felt like he was treated more like an item than a guest.

Full of doubts, Timothy sat in the palanquin, swaying as it was carried for several miles before it finally stopped.

Thinking they had arrived, Timothy prepared to relax, but stepping out of the palanquin, he saw only another alley and a chest filled with clothes, with two tall guards standing by.

Bewildered, Timothy asked the old man, "Where is this?" The old man gave a cryptic reply, "Mr. Shaw, the next part of the journey will require some discomfort."

"What... hey!?" Timothy had no time to react before the guards grabbed him and stuffed him into the chest.

Finally sensing something was wrong, Timothy tried to protest, but a hand pressed him down, and the old man's voice came from above.

"Mr. Shaw, do not make a sound. We will arrive soon."

Timothy grumbled inwardly, wondering what kind of family would treat guests so bizarrely.

Having no other choice, Timothy resigned himself to fate, lying silently among the clothes like a fish on a chopping block.

After what felt like an eternity, the chest finally stopped.

"Mr. Shaw, you can come out now."

Relieved, Timothy climbed out of the chest, only to gasp at the sight before him. He found himself in a grand, luxuriously decorated mansion filled with exquisite porcelain and treasures he'd never seen before.

Soon, the old man entered with several servants and said, "Mr. Shaw, please bathe and change."

Timothy, stunned, asked, "Bathe and change??"

The old man, not wanting to waste time, urged, "The ritual is about to begin, Mr. Shaw, please hurry."

Several servants hurried Timothy into a side room. There, behind a screen, was a steaming bath filled with flower petals, and a burner emitting fragrant smoke that filled the room.

Without needing to lift a finger, Timothy was undressed and bathed by the servants, who even washed his hair.

Never in his life had Timothy been pampered like this. Any discomfort from the journey was quickly forgotten as he reveled in the luxurious service, thinking perhaps heaven wasn't much better than this.

But Timothy's bliss was short-lived.

After being washed and dressed in a sheer robe, he was led to a bed in another room.

"Isn't there supposed to be a ritual? Why are you taking me to a bed?" Timothy asked, puzzled.

The servants exchanged nervous glances, remaining silent. From their evasive eyes, Timothy sensed fear and a faint trace of pity.

No one answered Timothy's question, so he sat on the edge of the bed, full of doubts.

As night fell, he heard a series of light footsteps. Moments later, he saw a shadow cast by candlelight outside the window, lingering in front of the door as if hesitating. After a while, there was a creak as the door was gently pushed open, and a figure swiftly slipped inside, closing the door behind them.

The figure was slender, dressed in a yellow silk robe, with hair tied up high, appearing to be a young man. He pressed his forehead against the door, remaining silent with his back to Timothy for a moment before suddenly turning around.

Timothy was startled by the sudden movements of the man. They stared at each other, wide-eyed.

In the candlelight, Timothy finally saw the man's face clearly.

The man had delicate eyebrows and long eyes, lips as red as vermilion, and skin as white as jade. He seemed to be in his early twenties, an extraordinarily handsome young man.

For some reason, the man stared at Timothy after entering, saying nothing for a long time. The eerie silence was unbearable for Timothy, and he couldn't help but ask, "Who are you?"

"You don't need to know."

The man replied stiffly and, as if gathering courage, walked towards Timothy with his head held high.

The man's aggressive demeanor made Timothy feel an ominous premonition. His heart pounded, and he instinctively retreated, "Hey, what do you want? Don't come any closer! Do you hear me!?"

Ignoring Timothy's warning, the man climbed onto the bed, grabbed Timothy's wrist, and forcibly pinned him down.

"From now on, I will fuck you," the man said, staring into Timothy's eyes, enunciating each word.

"... Fuck!?" Timothy was so shocked he almost choked.

Since the Harris family took over the Central Plains, renaming the country Great Alvah, fifty years had passed. And this delicate young man before him was none other than Christopher Harris, the third-generation emperor of Great Alvah.

Hearing this, Christopher became utterly enraged, his fair and refined face turning bright red. "Shut up! Right now, I'm the one fucking you. What's with your attitude? This is outrageous!"

"Fuck you! I came here because I heard someone needed a young man to ward off evil and was willing to pay. So, this whole time, it was just to sleep with me!? That's fraud! What, being the emperor means you can be shameless!?"

"You... you, a mere commoner, dare speak to me like this..." Christopher trembled with anger, clearly unprepared for Timothy's audacity, his face turning red and white in distress.

A brief exchange of words allowed Timothy to grasp his situation. His greed had led him to be lured into the palace, ending up on the emperor's bed by sheer coincidence.

Timothy couldn't understand why the emperor would use such underhanded methods to bring him into the palace. He only knew he was now facing the real danger of losing his chastity.

However, seeing the emperor, who seemed delicate and effeminate, getting flustered by a few harsh words, Timothy realized he was probably just a paper tiger, not as fearsome as he seemed.

In the end, it might not be his chastity that was at risk.

With this thought, Timothy felt more confident, leisurely watching him.

"So, Your Majesty, how do you plan to fuck this commoner?"

Perhaps not expecting Timothy to be so composed, Christopher shifted his gaze nervously, muttering, "Close your eyes. I... I don't like you looking at me like that."

What kind of look was that? Although Timothy wanted to ask, he instead playfully and seriously replied, "As you wish, Your Majesty," and obediently closed his eyes.

As his vision turned to darkness, the sound of breathing became clearer. The faint, fragrant breath lightly touched his face. Even without opening his eyes, Timothy could feel the other's nervousness.

He heard Christopher swallow, then felt a hand gently touch his cheek.

It was a hand that had never done hard labor, its soft and smooth skin clinging magnetically to his body, caressing from his face down to his neck and collarbone, then slipping into his thin robe, lovingly stroking Timothy's muscular chest and soft nipples.

Timothy's heart inexplicably sped up. The hand wandering over his body was too cautious, hesitating, yet the shy touches carried an undercurrent of long-repressed excitement. This hesitant foreplay only heightened Timothy's desire.

Suddenly, a soft, moist sensation landed on his chest. A nimble tongue circled his nipple, gently sucking, drawing sweet pleasure, making Timothy moan softly.

He opened his eyes to see Christopher, wholly absorbed, his head buried in Timothy's chest, licking and sucking with a dazed expression. From this angle, Timothy noticed Christopher's long, curled eyelashes fluttering like little fans, endearingly.

Was this truly the supreme emperor, the ruler of millions? If this was a dream, someone needed to wake him from this lascivious fantasy.

Unaware of Timothy's thoughts, Christopher continued to suckle Timothy's nipple, one hand involuntarily reaching between his own legs to caress his growing desire.

"Is it that tasty? It's been almost a quarter of an hour, and you still haven't had enough?" Timothy panted, his tone teasing.

"Shut up!" Christopher lifted his head, a flush coloring his eyes.

Timothy chuckled, "Your Majesty, you've been touching yourself for so long, are you unable to get it up?"

"Nonsense! You..." Christopher was both embarrassed and angry, unable to finish his sentence before feeling a sudden grip below.

Timothy had boldly reached out and grabbed Christopher's desire.

"Ah—!"

Christopher let out an uncontrollable cry when his manhood was suddenly grabbed. Overwhelmed with shame and anger, he bit his lower lip and stammered, "What are you doing?! Let go!!"

Timothy held Christopher's not-so-impressive dragon root, examining it with feigned seriousness. "So this is the legendary dragon root? It's hard, but not exactly majestic. With this, you think you can fuck me?"

"Let go!!" Christopher shouted, tears of frustration welling up. "I told you to let go!!"

"A commoner won't let go, what can you do about it?" With that, Timothy flipped over, reversing their positions. In an instant, the situation turned upside down. Timothy, who had been lying obediently moments ago, now had Christopher pinned beneath him, pushing his way between Christopher's legs, forcing them wide apart.

"What... what are you going to do to me?!" Feeling the impending loss of his virtue, Christopher struggled desperately, his hands and feet flailing uselessly.

"With those skinny arms and legs, you think you can overpower me?" Timothy smirked, a roguish grin spreading across his face. He patted Christopher's delicate cheek. "Give up. Let me, no, let this commoner teach you what it means to fuck."

Chapter Two: Tragedy in Ecstasy

Christopher was struck like a bolt from the blue, watching Timothy shamelessly lower his head and take his dragon root into his mouth. Overwhelmed with shock and fear, Christopher pushed back frantically, only to find that his struggles excited Timothy even more. The sounds of Timothy's slurping grew louder.

Timothy was not only diligent with his mouth but also busy with his hands. While Christopher was reeling from the sensation, Timothy boldly ripped at his clothes. With the sound of fabric tearing, Christopher's pants were shredded.

The sudden coldness brought Christopher back to his senses. As a sovereign ruler, he had never encountered such audacity, nor suffered such indignity. He beat and shoved at Timothy's head, but his physical disparity and pampered upbringing left him weak against Timothy's robust strength. To Timothy, Christopher's resistance was mere flirtation, arousing him further.

"Stop... mmph!!"

Before Christopher could call out, Timothy stuffed a piece of torn pants into his mouth. He then used another piece to bind Christopher's delicate wrists to the bedhead.

"Mmph mmph...!"

Christopher's tears flowed freely, but he was helpless. He couldn't cry out or fight back, watching as Timothy spread his legs wide, exposing his most private parts.

In the candlelight, Timothy closely examined Christopher's private area. It was a pink, virginal slit, hidden shyly beneath his slender root. His pubic hair was sparse and light-colored.

Christopher's mix of shame, fear, and trembling only added to his allure. Timothy swallowed hard, "I've never tasted a man before. Your Majesty, forgive this commoner."

Christopher, unable to struggle anymore, heard Timothy's words and shook his head frantically, trying to shrink away. Timothy, however, was relentless, grabbing Christopher's waist and pulling him back. He positioned his own aroused member at Christopher's entrance.

Though Timothy knew about sexual matters, he lacked patience. Spitting into his palm, he smeared it on himself, then forcefully parted Christopher's legs and pushed his shaft in.

The unlubricated entry was excruciating for Christopher. His eyes widened, and he let out a piercing scream, but Timothy pressed on, forcing the large head halfway in. Christopher's body shook violently, tears streaming down, while Timothy, driven by pleasure, pushed forward, embedding himself fully into Christopher's depths.

The sudden, intense pain caused Christopher to faint, his body arching off the bed. Timothy, finally sheathed in the tight, untouched passage, felt a rush that nearly made him climax.

"Fucking a man feels incredible. I'd die happy right now!" Timothy exclaimed, thrusting fervently. Christopher's body swayed with each movement, his eyes vacant, no longer resisting as Timothy took him forcefully.

Timothy, losing control, rammed his hardened flesh into Christopher repeatedly. After nearly a hundred thrusts, he felt the slickness inside. Looking down, he saw a mix of blood and fluids. Christopher's virginity had been taken.

Knowing he had deflowered the emperor, Timothy felt a dark satisfaction. The mighty ruler, now beneath him, utterly dominated.

Driven by this realization, he leaned down, removing the cloth from Christopher's mouth, and kissed his swollen lips passionately. Christopher, initially lifeless, responded to the kiss, a strange feeling stirring within him.

Timothy's lips were hot and demanding. Lost in the intense kiss, Christopher felt himself slipping into a daze. When Timothy finally pulled away, a string of saliva connected their lips.

Their eyes met, and Christopher’s heart pounded as he looked at Timothy, who was also breathing heavily, staring back at him. Christopher had a small beauty mark at the corner of his eye, which, under the candlelight, made him look even more alluring and captivating. Timothy’s heart stirred, and he leaned in to gently kiss that tiny black mole. Christopher instinctively tried to turn his head to avoid it, but Timothy’s thrusts made him freeze, unable to move.

Seeing that Christopher was completely subdued, Timothy’s mischievous nature surged. He untied the knot at the bedhead and lifted Christopher, maintaining their intimate connection, and sat at the edge of the bed. Christopher faced the door, his upper body hanging off the bed, his wrists still bound and resting limply on Timothy’s shoulders. His legs, meanwhile, wrapped tightly around Timothy's waist.

"Ah... ah...!!"

Timothy lifted Christopher up and then let him drop heavily, each descent driving his hard member deep into the softest part of Christopher’s body, as if trying to pierce his abdomen.

"Slower, slower..." Christopher begged, his head shaking wildly in Timothy’s embrace, but Timothy ignored his pleas. His large hands gripped Christopher’s buttocks, spreading them wide so he could penetrate even deeper.

Soon, the room was filled with the sounds of their lovemaking and the scent of their mingled arousal. Christopher, despite biting his lower lip, couldn't suppress the moans escaping from his mouth.

With glazed eyes fixed on Timothy, Christopher asked, "What... is your name?"

Breathless from the exertion, Timothy replied, "Answering Your Majesty, this commoner... is named Timothy."

"Timothy... Timothy..."

As he softly called Timothy’s name, Christopher bit his lip, his body responding involuntarily, moving in sync with Timothy’s thrusts, as if he were enjoying it.

Seeing Christopher's reaction, Timothy lost control, his body drenched in sweat. He held Christopher tightly and whispered in his ear, "I never thought the mighty ruler of a nation would be such a little slut."

Instead of getting angry, Christopher moved his hips more vigorously and moaned louder.

"Yes, I’m a little slut... Timothy... Timothy... mmph...!!"

Seeing this, Timothy's animalistic instincts took over, and he quickened his pace, his grip on Christopher's waist tightening as he pounded into him. Christopher's eyes rolled back, his head thrown back, hair coming undone in disarray.

"Your Majesty, this commoner... is about to...!"

Christopher shook his head desperately, "No! Don’t come inside!!"

Ignoring him, Timothy growled like a hungry wolf, lifting Christopher’s slender body as he stood up, beginning the final stage of their coupling.

"No! Don’t...!"

Christopher's cries were powerless against Timothy's fierce assault. Finally, as Timothy's relentless thrusts brought them both to climax, Christopher screamed, releasing his seed.

At the same time, Timothy filled Christopher with his own, spurting deep inside him. Christopher’s body twitched uncontrollably, overflowing with semen, which dripped onto the floor beneath them.

Still not entirely sated, Timothy moved inside Christopher a few more times before collapsing beside him, utterly spent. Soon, a heavy drowsiness overtook him, and he fell into a deep sleep.

Timothy slept deeply, vaguely hearing whispers around him. However, he was too exhausted to make out the words, catching only fragments like "dispose" and "bury him."

After an unknown amount of time, Timothy suddenly felt difficulty breathing. Groggily opening his eyes, he realized he was in complete darkness, bound tightly within a burlap sack. His hands and feet were tied with rope, and someone nearby was digging with a shovel, filling a hole with dirt.

The fragmented conversation he heard earlier came back to him in a rush, and he jolted awake, filled with panic. Just a short while ago, he had been lying with Emperor Christopher. How had he ended up tied up, about to be buried alive?

Could it be that Christopher, enraged after being violated, decided to execute him to vent his anger?

Regret washed over Timothy. If he had known it would come to this, he wouldn’t have followed the mysterious old man into the palace, nor would he have forced himself on Christopher. Surely, offering up his own virtue would have been better than losing his life.

But he wasn’t ready to die. At eighteen, he still had so much life ahead of him, so many dreams yet to fulfill. He couldn’t accept dying here, now.

Determined to survive, Timothy began to wriggle, inching away from the person digging the pit. He moved like a caterpillar, inching slowly but steadily.

After some time, his head suddenly struck a sharp rock, causing a jolt of pain. The rock had a sharp edge, and as Timothy moved against it, he felt the sack tear slightly.

Overjoyed, Timothy maneuvered his hands to the tear, rubbing the rope binding his wrists against the sharp edge, hoping to cut himself free.

Meanwhile, the person digging continued, oblivious to Timothy's movements. As Timothy frantically worked to free himself, the digger looked around, noticing the sack had moved. Thinking nothing of it, he grabbed the sack’s corner to drag it back.

The sudden motion helped Timothy break the rope, and he was thrown into a deep pit. From above, the digger began shoveling dirt into the pit. Seizing the moment, Timothy quickly freed his feet, tore the sack apart, and burst free.

The person above was caught off guard, letting out a startled scream. Instinctively, they dropped the shovel and stumbled back a few steps, landing heavily on the ground.

Timothy seized the opportunity to scramble out of the pit, dirt-covered and desperate. He quickly grabbed the shovel. The person recovered and lunged at Timothy, trying to wrest the shovel from his grip. Timothy was not about to give up easily; the two engaged in a fierce struggle, exchanging blows and grappling with each other.

"Who are you? Why do you want to kill me? At least give me a reason!" Timothy shouted while fighting.

"Let go!!" The person cried out, wincing in pain as Timothy yanked on their ear. "The emperor wants you dead. You have to die, whether you want to or not!"

Timothy didn't know martial arts, and the person wasn't a skilled fighter either. They fought like wild beasts, pulling hair and biting ears in a brutal, primal battle. Timothy's survival instinct gave him an edge. Summoning a burst of strength, he delivered a powerful kick that sent the other person flying. Their head collided with the sharp rock that had saved Timothy earlier, striking a vital spot. Blood spurted out, and the person slumped against the rock, motionless.

Timothy cautiously approached, feeling for a pulse under the person's nose. Nothing.

He was horrified. He only wanted to survive, not to kill. Yet here was a dead body, the result of his desperate struggle. What now?

Where was he, anyway? Timothy looked around, seeing the dark, eerie forest. In the distance, he glimpsed flickering lights. Taking a deep breath, he decided he had no choice. He dragged the body to the pit, picked up the shovel, and started burying it.

He hadn’t been working long when he realized this might not be the right course of action. If he was outside the palace, burying the body here might go unnoticed. But if he was still within the palace grounds, how would he escape after killing someone?

His mind raced. Suddenly, he had an idea. He jumped into the pit, unearthed the body, and stripped off its clothes, putting them on himself.

Though the person was dead, their identity might still help him escape the palace.

Having buried the body, Timothy, now dressed in the dead man’s clothes, left the scene, heading towards the lights.

As he approached a beautifully landscaped garden with pavilions and corridors, he encountered several people dressed similarly to him. Timothy kept his head down, avoiding eye contact, and hurried past them.

Perhaps because it was dark, no one noticed anything unusual about him.

Timothy sighed in relief. It seemed he was still in the palace. His disguise was helping him blend in. Without it, he would likely have been caught as an intruder.

“Damn that emperor. He enjoyed it so much, yet now he wants to kill me without a second thought,” Timothy muttered under his breath as he walked. Suddenly, a group of people carrying a palanquin approached. Timothy quickly stepped aside, lowering his head.

As the palanquin neared, he smelled a strong fragrance. He didn’t dare look up but heard a woman's voice from the palanquin, "Stop."

Chapter Three: The Human Seal

The palanquin halted. A richly dressed woman sat inside, turning slightly to observe Timothy standing stiffly by the side.

"You, what is your name?" The woman asked slowly.

Timothy froze. He had no idea what the dead man's name was. How could he respond?

"I... I..." Timothy stammered, then decided to gamble, "My name is Timothy."

"Timothy?" The woman frowned slightly. "A new eunuch?"

"Uh... yes! I just entered the palace today," Timothy quickly agreed.

A palace maid beside the woman snorted, "No wonder he doesn’t know the rules. Seeing the Queen, he doesn’t kneel, just stands there like a fool."

Timothy realized why the woman had noticed him. He immediately fell to his knees, repeatedly bowing his head. "I didn’t know the rules. I deserve to die! Please, Your Majesty, forgive me!"

Initially, Timothy thought the woman was just a concubine. Little did he know, in Great Alvah's palace, only princes and the Queen were entitled to ride in a palanquin. A palanquin was essentially a luxurious chair carried by two or four bearers, depending on the rider's status.

Normally, princes and the Queen could only use a two-bearer palanquin. But this distinguished-looking woman was in a four-bearer palanquin, indicating her extraordinary status. She was none other than Queen Owen, the most powerful woman in Great Alvah.

"Alright, stand up," Queen Owen said, seemingly not angry. She leisurely leaned back in the palanquin, speaking slowly. "Come here, let me have a closer look."

Timothy stood and took a few steps towards Queen Owen, raising his head slightly.

Queen Owen examined his face closely, noting his sharp features and strong brows. She clicked her tongue in approval, "You’re quite handsome. Whose eunuch are you?"

Timothy, sweating, made up a name on the spot. "Eunuch Cook."

"Eunuch Cook? The head of the kitchen, Remi Cook?" Queen Owen asked, raising an eyebrow.

Timothy quickly nodded, "Yes, that’s right, Remi the Eunuch Cook!"

In truth, Timothy had no idea who Remi was. He had just guessed a common name and luckily got it right.

"Such a handsome young man, yet assigned to the kitchen. What a waste." Queen Owen shook her ornate fan, covering her mouth as she continued to study Timothy. "How about this? From now on, you will serve me."

Timothy was stunned, looking at Queen Owen in confusion.

All he wanted was to escape the palace. Why would he want to serve her?

"Why are you still standing there? The Queen has just promoted you. This is a great honor. Kneel and thank her!" The palace maid scolded sharply.

"Thank you, Your Majesty, for your great kindness. This servant... no, this slave obeys," Timothy said, kneeling and bowing gratefully.

"Move on," Queen Owen said, waving her fan and seemingly in a good mood after gaining a handsome and obedient servant by her side.

Timothy, with no choice but to follow, trailed behind the group. He had no idea where Queen Owen was heading. Glancing around, he saw the eunuchs and palace maids with stern, silent expressions, and he dared not ask any questions, fearing to invite more trouble by saying the wrong thing.

Following Queen Owen's palanquin, Timothy passed through several grand palace gates, finally arriving at a palace named Hall Zona. The palanquin was set down at the stone steps. Queen Owen extended her delicate hand and said, "Timothy."

Timothy quickly stepped forward, reaching out to take her hand.

Queen Owen's face turned red with surprise, and the palace maid beside her immediately scolded him harshly, "How dare you touch the Queen with your dirty hands!"

Timothy, confused, replied, "My hands aren't dirty; I just washed them."

Queen Owen couldn't help but laugh at this and waved her hand dismissively, "Faith, let it go. This child just entered the palace and doesn't know the rules yet. Don't be too hard on him."

Faith, the palace maid, reluctantly held her tongue but shot Timothy a disdainful look.

Queen Owen placed her hand on Timothy's and gracefully descended from the palanquin. "You are quite straightforward and endearing, despite not knowing the rules. Come along," she said, smiling.

Queen Owen walked towards Hall Zona, her robes flowing behind her. Timothy glanced at Faith, who handed him a food box and whispered, "What are you standing there for? The Queen told you to follow. Didn't you hear?"

"Fine, I'm going," Timothy muttered, taking the food box. He thought to himself, "Who gave this lowly maid such a bad temper?"

"You...!" Faith started to retort but was met with a dismissive wave from Timothy as he turned and left, leaving her fuming and stomping her foot in frustration.

Timothy followed Queen Owen into Hall Zona, but the further they walked, the more uneasy he felt, a growing sense of foreboding.

When they finally entered the main hall, he understood the source of his unease. The place looked eerily familiar. Wait a minute... the decor, the layout, the bed—wasn't this where he and Christopher had been just moments ago?

Cold sweat broke out on Timothy's forehead. He had thought he had escaped the nightmare, only to find himself back where it all began. This cosmic joke was far from funny.

Unaware of Timothy's reaction, Queen Owen walked to an inner room where someone lay on a couch, back facing the door. Naturally, it was the emperor of Great Alvah, Christopher, who had turned on Timothy after their tryst.

"Your Majesty, retiring so early tonight?" Queen Owen asked quietly from the doorway.

Timothy saw Christopher flinch slightly at her voice.

"I’m not feeling well today..." Christopher sat up, hugging his knees and looking pitiful.

Not feeling well, my foot! Timothy thought, recalling how Christopher had been moaning beneath him earlier. What an act!

Queen Owen approached, sitting beside Christopher. She placed a hand on his and said, "Shall I call the royal physician to check on you?"

Christopher jerked his hand away as if shocked, shaking his head vigorously, "No, no need. It's nothing serious. Just some rest will do."

Curiously, Christopher seemed fearful rather than affectionate towards his wife, Queen Owen.

Unfazed, Queen Owen retracted her hand, a cold smile playing on her lips. "Your health is paramount, as it concerns the state of the nation. Neglecting your health due to excessive indulgence could lead to dire consequences for the country. You must take better care of yourself, Your Majesty."

Christopher nodded meekly, "The Queen is right. I understand..."

"Timothy," Queen Owen called, "bring the food box and serve the emperor his supper."

Hearing Timothy’s name, Christopher looked up, his face turning pale as he saw Timothy approaching with the food box. His eyes widened in fear.

"You..." Christopher instinctively recoiled, clutching the bedding.

Despite his own nervousness, Timothy maintained his composure better than Christopher. He opened the food box, taking out a bowl of sweet lotus seed soup.

Queen Owen noticed Christopher's odd reaction and narrowed her eyes, "What’s wrong? Is something amiss?"

Christopher quickly shook his head, replying in a small voice, "No... nothing."

Strange, why didn't Christopher expose him? Timothy wondered but decided to go with it. He scooped a spoonful of soup and brought it to Christopher's lips. "Your Majesty, please, have a bite."

Christopher's expression and body language screamed reluctance, but under Queen Owen's watchful eye, he had no choice but to open his mouth, trembling.

The mighty emperor of Great Alvah, behaving like a frightened child in front of the Queen, was a sight to behold. Seeing Christopher's discomfort, Timothy felt a twisted sense of satisfaction. He intentionally shoved the spoon in hard, making it clink against Christopher’s teeth. Christopher yelped, covering his mouth and glaring at Timothy, eyes red and filled with tears.

Queen Owen, oblivious to Timothy’s mischief, sat back and watched as Christopher nervously finished the soup. She then took out an imperial edict, handing it to Timothy.

"Read it to the emperor," she commanded.

Timothy took the edict, noticing the bold black characters on the yellow scroll. He began reading aloud, "Central Palace has colluded with Grand Tutor Bowie Butler , deceiving the throne and conspiring in rebellion. They shall be deposed to appease the public..."

Christopher, clutching the bowl, listened in shock. By the time Timothy finished, he was trembling. The bowl fell from his hands, shattering on the floor as he knelt before Queen Owen, shaking his head. "This edict is a forgery! There’s no plan to depose anyone! I... I had no idea!"

Queen Owen chuckled, fanning herself leisurely. "Why be so alarmed, Your Majesty? If I didn’t trust you, would I present this edict to you personally?"

She stood gracefully and helped Christopher to his feet. "I know you were misled by slanderous words. Just tell me who advised you against me, and I’ll overlook this as if it never happened."

Christopher hesitated, his gaze shifting, unable to decide. Queen Owen gripped his wrist tightly, her voice cold, "We were once husband and wife. I have always been loyal to you. These outsiders, no matter how persuasive, will always have ulterior motives. You must understand the importance of loyalty."

Faced with Queen Owen's relentless pressure, Christopher finally broke down. "It was... Secretary Robin Green... who advised me."

"And?" Queen Owen demanded.

"And...?" Christopher stammered, confused, another name slipping out, "And Chancellor Payton Simpson..."

Queen Owen’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. She dragged Christopher to the desk, spreading a new edict before him and tossing a pen his way.

"Then sign this edict."

Christopher looked at the document, his face draining of color. "Execution of nine generations... isn't that too severe? Exile... can't that suffice?"

Queen Owen’s eyes were sharp and unyielding. Christopher dared not protest further. Trembling, he picked up the brush and signed the edict.

Timothy watched in silence as the scene unfolded before him. His immense hatred for Christopher gradually faded, replaced by sympathy and pity. The image of Christopher signing the document with tear-filled eyes etched itself deeply into Timothy's mind.

Timothy understood that once Christopher signed his name, many heads would roll. Moreover, from the conversation between Christopher and Queen Owen, it was clear that Christopher was deeply loyal to these ministers. Yet, he was forced to sign a decree determining their fate, handing the sword to Queen Owen, allowing her to commence the slaughter.

When Christopher finally completed the document, the pen fell from his hand, clattering to the floor. He sat there, hollow and drained, staring blankly ahead.

Queen Owen took the decree, nodding in satisfaction.

Tears streamed down Christopher's face, and he closed his eyes, appearing as if he were ready to face execution.

Queen Owen laughed. "Your Majesty, look at you, crying over a few officials. Is it really worth it?"

She slipped the decree into her sleeve and turned to Timothy. "Timothy, accompany me back to the palace."

At her words, Christopher looked up in surprise, glancing between Queen Owen and Timothy.

Timothy quietly cleaned up the broken pieces of the porcelain bowl, replied with a "Yes," and carried the food box past Christopher.

As Timothy passed, he couldn't help but glance back at Christopher, who stared at him with tearful, bewildered eyes. The mix of despair, confusion, and emptiness in those eyes struck Timothy deeply. Even as Timothy followed Queen Owen’s palanquin away from Hall Zona, those eyes remained imprinted in his mind, haunting him.

Chapter Four: The Emperor's Fate

The night was long and silent, a time when people usually drifted into sleep. Under normal circumstances, Timothy would have been in a deep slumber. But now, he stood in the cold wind, wide awake and counting the stars above out of sheer boredom.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to rest; he simply couldn’t.

After leaving Hall Zona, Queen Owen didn’t return to the palace but headed straight to the Imperial Medical Bureau. As her personal attendant, Timothy couldn’t leave without permission. Since Queen Owen didn’t specify how long she would stay inside, Timothy had no choice but to wait.

Shortly after Queen Owen entered, sounds of scandalous behavior echoed from the Imperial Medical Bureau. More surprisingly, alongside Queen Owen's voice, there were several men's voices as well.

Initially, Timothy thought Queen Owen had come to the bureau for medical reasons. He hadn’t expected her to engage in an orgy with the imperial physicians.

Timothy stood guard outside with a short, young attendant who looked a couple of years younger than him. Despite the shameless noises from inside, the young attendant remained as calm as a meditating monk.

Curious and bored, Timothy struck up a conversation.

"I'm Timothy, new to the palace. What's your name?"

"Sage Gray," the attendant replied without looking at him.

"Does the Queen... do this often?" Timothy pointed towards the Imperial Medical Bureau.

Sage looked at him, "Newcomer, in this palace, the less you know, the better."

Timothy chuckled, "For someone so young, you talk like an old man. But I admire your calmness in such a situation. Respect, brother, respect."

Sage sighed, "You serve the Queen now. In a month, you'll be as accustomed to this as I am."

It seemed Queen Owen’s public debauchery was an open secret. By contrast, Christopher, alone in his vast chamber without even a maid to serve him, was pitiable.

Reflecting on how Christopher had brought him into the palace in such a secretive manner, Timothy found it all quite curious.

"But what about the emperor? Does he allow this under his nose?"

"Shh! Keep your voice down," Sage hissed, covering Timothy’s mouth. "Do you have a death wish? The master’s private matters aren’t for slaves to discuss."

"I'm just curious," Timothy whispered back. "Doesn't it seem odd? The emperor is quite handsome and...”

"And what?" Sage eyed him.

Timothy swallowed the word "lustful" and said, "I can tell from his face that he's good in bed. So why would the Queen seek pleasure elsewhere?"

"You can read faces?" Sage asked skeptically. "Then you should see the emperor’s face has a widow’s peak."

"A widow’s peak?!" Timothy gasped. "What does that mean?"

"It means you know only half the story," Sage replied. "There have been concubines and palace maids around the emperor, but none survived more than a year after being with him."

"Why?"

"Don’t ask why. Just know it's fate," Sage said, clasping his hands in a prayer gesture.

Timothy, determined to get to the bottom of things, pressed on. "So, does the emperor have any children?"

"Only one," Sage whispered, glancing around before leaning closer. "The current Crown Prince’s mother was a maid. She was the only woman who survived more than a year after being with the emperor but died the day after giving birth."

Timothy shivered. Whether or not Christopher was cursed, one thing was clear: had he not escaped earlier, he might have become another ghost in the palace.

Sage sighed, "Being the emperor isn’t enviable. In this palace and even in court, the Queen has the final say. If the emperor had any spine or intelligence, he wouldn't be in such a pitiful state. But enough of this, I've said too much."

Timothy had thought Christopher wanted to kill him out of humiliation, but it was more complex. Christopher, isolated and weak, was nothing compared to the strong-willed and decisive Queen Owen.

The relationship between Christopher and Queen Owen was undoubtedly tangled. Why did everyone around Christopher die? Why did he secretly bring Timothy into the palace? Why didn’t he expose Timothy to the Queen? The reasons were unclear, but they certainly went beyond mere superstition.

Despite Timothy’s efforts to pry more information from Sage, the latter remained tight-lipped.

Queen Owen spent the entire night indulging herself in the Imperial Medical Bureau. At dawn, she emerged, glowing and satisfied, while the imperial physicians looked utterly drained, as if their life force had been sucked out. Timothy couldn’t help but silently marvel at the scene.

When Queen Owen took Timothy’s hand and flirted with him, he put on a composed face, afraid of getting into trouble. He no longer dared to touch her as casually as before.

Seeing Timothy resist, Queen Owen sighed, "Such a handsome young man, it’s a pity you’re a eunuch."

Timothy maintained his calm exterior, but inside he was relieved to have avoided her advances.

Though Queen Owen was indeed debauched, she was generous towards Timothy. She rewarded him with numerous gold and silver ornaments and added ten silver taels to his monthly stipend of 200 bushels of grain as pocket money. Nearly half of this money Timothy sent to his family outside the palace. To avoid arousing suspicion, he didn't disclose the full details of his palace employment, merely saying that a friend had helped him secure a job there, and his family didn't question it.

Inside the palace, Timothy was meticulous. First, he obtained the eunuch registry from the Department of Internal Affairs and secretly added his name, solidifying his identity and eliminating future worries. Secondly, he investigated the eunuch who had tried to bury him alive. After some inquiry, he learned that the unfortunate scapegoat was named Kamryn Hunter, a junior eunuch in charge of illness and death affairs, who had entered the palace less than a year ago.

Timothy forged a letter in Kamryn's handwriting, stating that he was leaving to mourn a family member's death, creating the illusion that Kamryn had left the palace.

Timothy wasn't sure if Christopher would see the letter, but he knew that even if Christopher suspected something, he couldn't openly investigate Kamryn's death. Kamryn was a low-ranking eunuch, and a thorough investigation might reveal that Christopher had lured men into the palace for his personal pleasure. How Queen Owen would react to such a revelation was unpredictable.

Since that night at Hall Zona, Timothy hadn't had a chance to see Christopher again. Honestly, Timothy still thought about Christopher, mainly because of his physical attraction. After all, Christopher was the first man Timothy had slept with, leaving a deep impression. The memory of that night lingered in Timothy's mind, and he often wished for another encounter.

However, Christopher rarely left his quarters except for official duties. Though married in name, Christopher and Queen Owen led separate lives and rarely saw each other. As a eunuch in the Central Palace, Timothy couldn't wander to Hall Zona without reason. He pondered ways to see Christopher again.

Soon, an opportunity arose. Christopher was a devout Buddhist and visited Temple Lrisa in the forbidden garden on the fifth day of every month for a day of meditation and fasting, supposedly for spiritual cleansing.

This was the only day each month that Christopher left the palace. On these days, he would rise early, bathe in incense, and, accompanied by a few guards and attendants, spend the day at Temple Lrisa. It was also the day Queen Owen indulged herself the most, as Christopher's absence allowed her to freely engage with her lovers within the palace.

On the morning of the fifth, Timothy arrived early at Temple Lrisa. Soon after, Christopher's palanquin arrived, stopping at the temple entrance. Christopher stepped out, looking slightly thinner than before, with his delicate brows knit in a subtle expression of melancholy.

Dressed not in his imperial robes but in a simple, elegant dark blue ceremonial garment, Christopher exuded a serene and refined aura. He exchanged pleasantries with the abbot who had been waiting outside, then entered the temple with the abbot and a personal attendant.

Timothy had bribed the guards at the temple entrance, allowing him to slip inside unnoticed. Since Christopher disliked being disturbed during his meditations, only his personal attendant remained close, and the temple was otherwise quiet and serene, filled with the sounds of morning bells and birdsong.

In the northwest corner of Temple Lrisa was a secluded courtyard with an ancient tree whose massive branches extended beyond the walls. Christopher's attendant stood guard outside the courtyard, looking bored and sleepy. Timothy climbed over the courtyard wall, undetected.

As he landed silently in the courtyard, a familiar scent wafted through the air. Timothy couldn't recall where he had smelled it before but decided it didn't matter.

Timothy crept through the courtyard, approaching Christopher, who was kneeling and chanting softly before an altar, oblivious to Timothy's presence.

"Your Majesty," Timothy whispered into Christopher's ear, his breath warm against his skin.

Christopher jolted, turning sharply to face Timothy's close, smiling face. Startled, he dropped his wooden fish instrument with a clatter and instinctively moved to call for help.

Timothy quickly covered Christopher's mouth, pulling him into a tight embrace. "It's just you and me here, Your Majesty. Don't you remember me?" Timothy grinned.

Christopher trembled, nodding with wide, frightened eyes.

"Relax, I'm not here to kill you. See, I'm unarmed," Timothy said, guiding Christopher's hand over his chest and waist to show he carried no weapons.

Christopher blushed, quickly averting his gaze. "What... what do you mean, kill you? I don't understand."

"Come on, Your Majesty. There's no need to pretend. It's just us here. Don't you want to know how I survived that night?" Timothy asked, his smile turning mischievous.

Christopher's trembling eased, and he lowered his gaze. "Even if I knew, what difference would it make? I was a fool not to see that you were sent by the Queen."

"Sent by the Queen?" Timothy was puzzled.

Christopher, looking defeated, continued, "Never mind. At this point, what does it matter? Do what you must, but make it quick."

Timothy was taken aback. It seemed they were speaking past each other.

"Your Majesty, you're mistaken. I'm not the Queen's man," Timothy clarified.

Christopher looked up, bewildered. "What do you mean?"

Timothy released Christopher, adopting a serious tone. "I'm just an ordinary citizen. I have no connection to the palace whatsoever."

Timothy then recounted his background, how he was lured into the palace, and his encounter with Christopher, ending with, "If I lie about anything, may I be struck down by lightning."

"You really are an outsider?" Christopher murmured, "No wonder the Queen said nothing and left. I thought she brought you to confront me..."

"Confront you? About what?" Timothy asked, confused.

"I lured you into the palace behind the Queen's back, and she suspected something, so she sent you to test me."

Realization dawned on Timothy.

Christopher hadn't exposed Timothy's identity to the Queen because he thought Timothy was her spy. Admitting Timothy wasn't a eunuch would have revealed Christopher's actions outside the palace.

"Your Majesty, what's the deal between you and the Queen? Why are you so afraid of her? Why must you sneak around? And what about the rumors that you bring misfortune to your wives—is that true?" Timothy pressed.

Christopher laughed bitterly. "Misfortune? That's just the Queen's excuse for silencing them."

"Silencing them?" Timothy echoed. "So, the palace maids and consorts who died... were they really killed by Queen Owen?"

Christopher gazed blankly into the courtyard. "I have no proof, but I'm certain it was her."

"Even the Crown Prince's mother?"

Pain flickered in Christopher's eyes. He gripped the door frame, his nails digging into the wood, leaving deep marks.

Chapter Five: A Forbidden Love

"The palace maid was my nightmare."

After a long silence, Christopher finally spoke.

"I had been married for many years, yet Queen Owen never bore me a child. She was intensely jealous and suspicious of any concubine or palace maid who got close to me. Anyone who shared my bed would soon die mysteriously. But as the emperor, I couldn't remain childless forever. Under pressure, Queen Owen chose a beautiful palace maid from her own attendants, blinded her, poisoned her vocal cords, and sent her to my bed, forcing me to... make love to her in front of her."

Timothy shuddered. "Blinded her and poisoned her voice? Why would she do that?"

"Isn't it obvious? She feared I would be drawn to the palace maid's eyes or voice. Can you imagine how I felt, forced to violate a helpless woman under the gaze of a devil? It was excruciating."

Tears streamed down Christopher's face as he spoke. The scene he described was too horrific to imagine. Timothy watched him, unable to find words to comfort him.

"If I could, I would erase that memory from my mind, but I can't. I still remember that night vividly..."

Recalling the past, Christopher trembled, hugging himself in fear.

"I was too frightened to perform, so there had to be a second time, a third time. It was unbearable for both the palace maid and me. We had no choice but to comply, repeatedly, under Queen Owen's watchful eye, until the palace maid became pregnant."

"But after she bore the prince, she was killed," Timothy sighed.

Christopher turned to Timothy, his eyes filled with sorrow. "Since then, I've never wanted to touch a woman again."

Timothy crossed his arms, tilting his head. "So you turned your attention to men, finding them safer?"

"Compared to women, men are safer. At least, men can't get pregnant," Christopher said with a bitter smile. "But it doesn't matter. Queen Owen won't allow anyone close to me, regardless of gender. If she finds out, it won't end well for either of us. But, it was my idea to kill you to protect myself. It had nothing to do with anyone else."

Timothy shook his head. "You tried to kill me out of self-preservation, forced by Queen Owen."

Timothy thought he was being understanding, but Christopher's face grew more humiliated. "Are you pitying me?"

"Of course not," Timothy replied firmly. "I feel it's unfair for you. Queen Owen is despicable, flirting with her lovers while forcing you into a life of fear. She turned you into someone afraid of women! It's outrageous. Doesn't she fear retribution?"

Timothy grew more agitated, stepping forward to grab Christopher's hand. "Your Majesty, with me here, I won't let you suffer anymore."

Christopher, tears still on his cheeks, looked at Timothy in shock. "Do you mean that?"

"Though I'm just a lowly eunuch, I have my wits. Otherwise, I wouldn't have escaped death and be standing here talking to you, right?"

Christopher stared at Timothy silently for a long time, then suddenly broke down, sobbing in Timothy's arms. "For so many years, this is the first time I've heard such words..."

Timothy held Christopher's trembling body, gently stroking his back.

Christopher cried in Timothy's arms, his shoulders shaking. "Every word you said touched my heart. Even if it's a lie, I'm happy..."

"I wouldn't dare lie," Timothy joked, wiping Christopher's tears. "Lying to you would be a capital offense. My head would be the first to go."

Christopher looked up, his eyes wet with tears, studying Timothy's face. "Your head is too handsome to cut off."

Timothy's heart skipped a beat. He whispered in Christopher's ear, "Your Majesty, if you keep talking like that, I won't be able to control myself."

"Wh-what...?" Christopher stammered, unable to believe what he was hearing. "You... you missed me?"

"Ever since we parted at Hall Zona, I've wanted to see you again. But as a mere eunuch, how could I approach you? Do you know how long I've waited for this day?"

"I'm not a good person. I'm cowardly, weak, useless..." Christopher couldn't meet Timothy's eyes. "I'm selfish, despicable, heartless. I almost got you killed..."

"Look at me!" Timothy cupped Christopher's face, forcing him to meet his gaze. Christopher's body trembled, and the burning desire in Timothy's eyes reignited a spark in his heart.

"Your Majesty, I don't know what kind of person you are. But today, in this temple, I won't let you go."

With that, Timothy lifted Christopher and carried him to the bed by the window.

Christopher gasped in surprise, quickly covering his mouth.

Outside, the attendant named Rowan called out, "Your Majesty? Is everything alright?"

"Nothing! I'm fine!" Christopher quickly replied, trying to sound calm despite his breathlessness. "I want to rest in the temple. Stand guard outside and don't let anyone in."

"...Yes, Your Majesty."

Hearing this, Christopher relaxed slightly. His robe was already half-open, revealing his smooth, pale skin. Timothy leaned down, gently biting his collarbone, leaving a faint red mark.

To stifle his moans, Christopher bit his own hand, trembling under Timothy's touch.

Timothy's kisses traveled downwards, from his lips to his neck, as his hand slipped inside Christopher's robe, teasing his nipples.

With his last bit of rationality, Christopher shook his head, gasping, "Not here..."

"Why not? There's no one here but us," Timothy murmured, sucking on Christopher's collarbone.

"No, Rowan is outside," Christopher blushed.

"Rowan?" Timothy realized. "You mean the one dozing off? Don't worry, he's probably sound asleep by now. He won't hear us."

"But..."

Christopher tried to protest, but Timothy silenced him with another deep kiss, leaving him breathless.

"Don't say 'but.' Your Majesty, do you know how long I've longed for you?" Timothy whispered.

"What...?" Christopher's eyes were misty. "You... longed for me?"

"Ever since we parted at Hall Zona, I've wanted to see you again. Do you know how long I've waited for this day?"

"I'm not a good person. I'm cowardly, weak, useless..." Christopher couldn't meet Timothy's eyes. "I'm selfish, despicable, heartless. I almost got you killed..."

"Look at me!" Timothy cupped Christopher's face, forcing him to meet his gaze. Christopher's body trembled, and the burning desire in Timothy's eyes reignited a spark in his heart.

"Your Majesty, I don't know what kind of person you are. But today, in this temple, I won't let you go."

With that, Timothy lifted Christopher and carried him to the bed by the window.

Christopher gasped in surprise, quickly covering his mouth.

Outside, the attendant named Rowan called out, "Your Majesty? Is everything alright?"

"Nothing! I'm fine!" Christopher quickly replied, trying to sound calm despite his breathlessness. "I want to rest in the temple. Stand guard outside and don't let anyone in."

"...Yes, Your Majesty."

Hearing this, Christopher relaxed slightly. His robe was already half-open, revealing his smooth, pale skin. Timothy leaned down, gently biting his collarbone, leaving a faint red mark.

To stifle his moans, Christopher bit his own hand, trembling under Timothy's touch.

Timothy's kisses traveled downwards, from his lips to his neck, as his hand slipped inside Christopher's robe, teasing his nipples.

With his last bit of rationality, Christopher shook his head, gasping, "Not here..."

"Why not? There's no one here but us," Timothy murmured, sucking on Christopher's collarbone.

"No, Rowan is outside," Christopher blushed.

"Rowan?" Timothy realized. "You mean the one dozing off? Don't worry, he's probably sound asleep by now. He won't hear us."

"But..."

Christopher tried to protest, but Timothy silenced him with another deep kiss, leaving him breathless.

"Don't say 'but.' Your Majesty, do you know how long I've longed for you?" Timothy whispered.

"What...?" Christopher's eyes were misty. "You... longed for me?"

"Yes, ever since that night at Hall Zona, I've wanted to see you again. But as a mere eunuch, how could I approach you? Do you know how long I've waited for this day?"

"I'm not a good person. I'm cowardly, weak, useless..." Christopher couldn't meet Timothy's eyes. "I'm selfish, despicable, heartless. I almost got you killed..."

"Look at me!" Timothy cupped Christopher's face, forcing him to meet his gaze. Christopher's body trembled, and the burning desire in Timothy's eyes reignited a spark in his heart.

"Your Majesty, I don't know what kind of person you are. But today, in this temple, I won't let you go."

With that, Timothy lifted Christopher and carried him to the bed by the window.

Christopher gasped in surprise, quickly covering his mouth.

Outside, the attendant named Rowan called out, "Your Majesty? Is everything alright?"

"Nothing! I'm fine!" Christopher quickly replied, trying to sound calm despite his breathlessness. "I want to rest in the temple. Stand guard outside and don't let anyone in."

"...Yes, Your Majesty."

Upon hearing the response from outside, Christopher let out a sigh of relief. By now, the front of his deep robe had opened widely, revealing his pale, smooth skin underneath. Timothy leaned down, gently biting and nibbling on the small pink buds on Christopher's chest.

Christopher's robe was wide open, his soft black hair spilling over the bed. To stifle his moans, he bit his own hand, trembling delicately under Timothy's touch.

After a while, Timothy’s hand slipped down, grasping Christopher's shyly erect member, stroking it gently. Tears glistened in Christopher’s eyes as he emitted faint, barely audible gasps, his pitiable appearance greatly stimulating Timothy’s desire.

"Ugh!"

When Timothy’s fingers pried open Christopher's tight entrance and delved into the narrow passage, Christopher's eyes flew open in shock, his long legs instinctively clamping around Timothy’s waist.

Recalling their first wild encounter, Christopher’s face turned deathly pale. Timothy had taken him forcefully that first time, leaving Christopher’s private parts torn and bleeding. Afraid of the scandal, Christopher hadn’t sought help from the Imperial Physician, enduring a week of agony before finally healing. He could still remember the excruciating pain of those days.