FRGL chapter 45

The first thing Luo Hai felt was pain.

Pain—an unbearable, searing pain, as if he were being torn apart from the inside out.

Of course, his body hurt as well.

His glands, damaged by medication, resisted violently yet craved desperately at the same time. The pain tore through every nerve in his body, while his blood boiled with longing, intoxicated by every trace of the Alpha’s scent.

There was a faint taste of blood in Eugene’s mouth, and as Luo Hai struggled and resisted, the metallic taste grew stronger.

No matter how fiercely he fought back, Eugene showed no intention of letting go. Instead, he clamped down on Luo Hai’s arms, lifted him effortlessly, and threw him onto the bed.

Luo Hai used all his strength to kick Eugene in the chest, but Eugene easily caught his ankle and forced his legs apart—into a position that would humiliate any adult.

Faced with the absolute biological dominance of an Alpha, Luo Hai had no means of resistance.

And yet, despite being the one forced into submission, he could still sense a deep, wounded sorrow from Eugene—like that of a hurt beast.

Like the bitterness in coffee, it was mixed into the intensity of his pheromones.

Luo Hai closed his eyes.

Late at night, heavy clouds loomed overhead, and light rain silently drenched everything in the city. Not even the cries of cats and dogs could be heard—everything was utterly quiet.

Only the heat of sweat and the dense scent of pheromones filled the narrow room. Luo Hai’s lips remained tightly shut, refusing to let even a single breath escape.

Eugene gripped Luo Hai’s arm, pressing his knee against his thigh, his voice hoarse. “Does it hurt?”

Luo Hai did not reply.

“If it hurts, say it.” Eugene whispered. “Say it, and I’ll let you go.”

The only response was silence and Luo Hai’s tightly shut eyes.

“Or do you enjoy this?” Eugene tightened his grip around Luo Hai’s ankle and thrust forward. “Your body is so eager—do you want more?”

Still, there was no response.

The prosecutor tasked with sending him to the execution ground seemed determined not to make a sound. He buried his face completely into the pillow, allowing the Alpha to do as he pleased.

His newly bought shirt was already wrinkled beyond recognition, the deep blue cufflinks barely hanging onto the sleeves, struggling to stay in place. His disheveled hair fell over his eyes, trembling slightly against his lashes.

…

Even when it was all over, Luo Hai still hadn’t made a single sound.

So Eugene stopped speaking as well—silent as he finished, silent as he carried Luo Hai to the bathroom, silent as he turned on the hot water. His movements were entirely different from before, now gentle and careful as he washed him clean.

But no matter how he acted—whether rough or tender—Luo Hai never reacted. That delicate yet coldly handsome face remained expressionless from start to finish.

Like a character whose ending had already been written, unwilling to waste even a moment on anything beyond the script.

Eugene’s skin was fair, his figure lean and well-proportioned, muscles defined just enough. The overhead light cast a glow over his shoulders, highlighting the thin sheen of sweat on his skin—subtly intimate, almost seductive.

He turned off the faucet and used a soft towel to wipe the water droplets from Luo Hai’s body, then spoke in a low voice:

“Sometimes I wonder… if I had come to Nantes earlier, if I had found you sooner—saved you before you became a prosecutor—would things have turned out differently?”

Luo Hai’s expression didn’t change. His pitch-black eyes, like glass, reflected only the cold, inorganic light, devoid of any human emotion.

Just as Eugene thought he would remain silent, Luo Hai finally spoke.

His voice was low, just enough for Eugene to hear, yet it cut into his heart like a sharp blade.

“No,” Luo Hai said. “It wouldn’t have mattered how early you came. Because you and I… we were never the same kind of person. And we never will be.”

….

After that night, Luo Hai never returned to the apartment.

In the following days, he spent his daylight hours monitoring the movements of the Lightwing Society and drafting investigation plans, while at night, he slept in his office. Occasionally, he would glance at the surveillance app on his phone—just to confirm Eugene’s location.

Colin, upon arriving at work several times, was startled by his boss’s appearance. Though Luo Hai was notorious for his workaholic tendencies, Colin had never seen him look so pale and exhausted, as if he might collapse from sheer fatigue at any moment.

It was as if, despite his intact exterior, he had already shattered into pieces inside.

But no matter how much Colin tried to persuade him to rest, it was useless. Luo Hai would only respond calmly that he was fine—that the most pressing task at hand was resolving the Lightwing Society case.

After shutting down the Nantes square base, the remaining five locations were quickly brought under the prosecution office’s surveillance. The criminals remained completely unaware, still meticulously preparing for their next assassination attempt.

At the last meeting, it was unanimously decided that Luo Hai would serve as the chief commander of the next operation, and he swiftly drafted the corresponding action plan.

The five bases were too scattered, making a coordinated, large-scale arrest difficult.

A cunning rabbit always has multiple burrows—sending wolves charging into their dens would be pointless. But if the rabbits were already coming out of their holes, it would be far easier to ambush them along their path.

Over the past few days, the prosecution office had mobilized personnel from various departments—monitoring the Lightwing Society’s bases while secretly protecting the officials on the assassination list.

Everything was well-prepared, with every step personally reviewed by Prosecutor Luo Hai. The plan was flawless, just waiting for the Lightwing Society to take action.

When the rabbits emerged, that would be the moment of their complete annihilation.

The day before the operation, the weather was beautiful.

The sky stretched high and vast, cloudless and blue like a single, transparent piece of crystal. The sun slanted from the west, casting golden light across the city.

Luo Hai stood by the corridor window, gazing silently into the distance. The city was alive with activity—some driving luxury cars, some riding bicycles. Some toiled their whole lives just to secure the bare minimum for survival, while others lived indulgently without lifting a finger, never worrying about food or shelter.

“Boss.”

Colin’s voice came from behind him.

“What are you still doing here? The arrangements are all set, aren’t they? Everyone else has gone home to rest.”

Luo Hai turned around. “Mm, you should go too. I’ll stay here tonight—just in case anything unexpected happens.”

Colin’s expression tensed. “Do you think something might go wrong? But you’ve already gone over every detail of the plan multiple times—it should be foolproof.”

“Nothing is ever foolproof,” Luo Hai said flatly. “Besides… there’s something that’s been bothering me. I just can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right.”

“What is it?” Colin asked.

“Communication,” Luo Hai replied. “Eugene was imprisoned at the beginning of last month. Even after his release, he was constantly monitored by the prosecution office, wearing an ankle tracker at all times. Every detail of his daily movements—who he interacted with, where he went—has been meticulously recorded. We even installed surveillance in the stores he frequents, with personnel reviewing the footage daily. By all logic, he shouldn’t have had any opportunity to contact members of the Lightwing Society.”

“Could he have arranged everything before he was arrested?” Colin speculated.

“I considered that possibility too. Unfortunately, it’s not feasible,” Luo Hai said calmly. “He could have made plans before his imprisonment, but without his direct involvement, they wouldn’t have been executed this flawlessly. Omegas are restricted in too many areas. There’s no way they could have gained access to government structures, let alone identified and tracked the most critical targets among a crowd of suit-wearing Alphas.”

But if Eugene had been giving instructions from behind the scenes, that would be an entirely different matter.

Over the years, Eugene had worked various jobs and gained extensive knowledge of social structures—perhaps even establishing certain hidden connections.

But how had he managed to do it?

“No matter what method he used, it doesn’t matter now,” Colin reassured him. “We’ve already uncovered their bases, intercepted their key plans. Once the operation begins tomorrow, this organization will be wiped out completely.”

Luo Hai turned his head to look out the window. Beyond his field of vision, the police had already reinforced their presence, surrounding all five bases. Bodyguards and snipers had been stationed to protect the targets on the assassination list.

Hopefully.

Hopefully, things really were as simple as Colin said.

Hopefully, this absurd play would end soon—so he would never have to face Eugene Oddis’ sorrowful amber eyes again.

Just then, Colin let out a soft “Ah,” gesturing toward him.

“Uh, boss… your neck…”

Luo Hai paused, instinctively raising a hand to touch his neck. A sharp sting spread across the skin under his fingertips. In the reflection of the window glass, he could see a small patch of red.

“Is it… an allergic reaction?” Colin asked, though even his own voice sounded uncertain.

The moment his fingers brushed against the mark, Lu Hai’s body’s memory surged uncontrollably.

Scorching lips. Burning breath. An unyielding grip, and those burning amber eyes.

The pain, etched into his skin along with Eugene’s mark.

The more it hurt, the more he had wanted it—until he could no longer tell who was forcing whom, whose bloodstained marks were left on whom.

A mark from days ago… and yet, even now, it remained as clear as ever.

“No,” Luo Hai replied flatly, lowering his hand from his neck.

Colin was still young, and his face immediately flushed red. His eyes darted around, unsure where to look, and his mouth opened and closed as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know how. In the end, he only managed to stammer out, “…Take care of yourself.”

Colin’s awkward reaction brought a faint chuckle from Luo Hai. He reached up to adjust his collar, buttoning the topmost button.

“I got it. Go on home.”

After Colin left, the prosecutor’s office grew even quieter. The sun sank lower, leaving only a faint streak of red on the horizon.

Luo Hai took a deep breath and walked into his office. He pulled out the stack of case files piled in his drawer, hoping to pass the remaining hours with work.

However, when he pressed his fountain pen to the document, he realized that no ink appeared.

The pen had run dry. And as luck would have it, the bottled ink in his office had also run out, and he hadn’t gotten around to replacing it.