Chapter Fifty

That's more like it. How could I possibly be the only one in pain? If there must be pain, then let us suffer together. If I alone endure it, wouldn't that be terribly unfair?

As if Arthur's anguish were not enough, Yingyue lifted her arm, her small hand gently coming to rest on Arthur's eyes, softly caressing them.

"Do you know, whenever I look into your eyes, I always think of Creek!" She stroked his eyes tenderly, love coloring her touch. "Because you both have blue eyes," she continued, but her tone shifted to one of helpless resignation. "But alas, the color isn't quite the same." As her words fell, she withdrew her hand quickly, as if in distaste.

When Yingyue's hand covered his eyes, Arthur felt the warmth of her touch, his eyelashes quivering, a gentle current of warmth flowing through his heart.

But then, her cruel words, that unfeeling withdrawal—like a handful of salt thrown onto a heart already raw and bleeding—brought fresh waves of pain, his heart convulsing, blood surging, his eyes aching with dryness.

A surge of bitterness rose in his chest, flooding his throat before he could react; he coughed out a mouthful of blood.

Like a devilish red spider lily from the depths of hell, it bloomed in an instant across Yingyue’s delicate collarbone, and at the corner of Arthur's lips.

Yingyue stared at Arthur in a daze, her eyes fixed on that vivid streak of red at his mouth, unable to respond for a long moment. Until—until—she felt the warm trickle at her neck. Her fingers brushed her throat and came away damp; she looked down to see a smear of crimson, the unmistakable color and scent of blood staining her pale skin.

Her violet eyes constricted sharply at the sight. Her fingers trembled violently, her ashen lips quivered uncontrollably; no words could form.

How—how could this be? She only meant to provoke him, to rile him up, nothing more. How—how did it come to this?

The bright red blood still blossomed on her neck, searing her skin like a brand. The heat seemed to burn through her flesh, scorching her heart with a sharp, biting pain.

Arthur's fair features took on an even more alluring, almost wicked beauty against the backdrop of red. His blood-stained lips curled again, a blinding scarlet. He raised his arm and wiped away the blood, his sky-blue eyes filled with nothing but Yingyue’s pale, trembling face—the lips she could no longer keep from shaking.

His slender, blood-streaked hands gently cupped Yingyue’s small face, caressing it with the care one might show a priceless piece of porcelain. Her pallid cheeks were mottled with blood.

"Dear, I've only just realized," he murmured, "we are the same kind of people. Just as cold, just as heartless, just as—" he leaned in close to her ear, his voice a whisper, "just as cruel." Drawing back, he pressed a blood-red kiss to her lips.

Yingyue gazed at Arthur, her body numb, too drained even to tremble.

"Did you know?" she spoke, just as Arthur thought she would never speak again. "I often ask myself—why? Why did I have to meet you? Do you know, every time I look at you, I curse the heavens. Why, years ago, did I not simply leave this world? Why did I have to meet you—" her tone was calm, as if recounting someone else's story, "you, the demon with the face of an angel?" She tilted her head, a faint smile on her lips.

A dull ache throbbed in Arthur’s heart, but his lips curved in a wicked, seductive smile as his voice drifted softly, "Perhaps it was because I was too lonely. And so, God sent you to keep me company."

—— Author's Note ——

On my knees begging for your support—please, everyone reading, I implore you to add this to your collection. Praying...