DLMSWSHH Chapter 20

TL: Hua

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Chapter 20: Warning

Zhong Ming stopped breathing instantly.

The tentacle sat there, motionless. There was no telling how long it had been there. But the human mind is built for association; an image flashed into Zhong Ming’s head: if there was a tentacle, there was something attached to it.

The man might have been sitting there silently the entire time, watching him scramble inside in a blind panic, observing his every move from the darkness. Like a statue of a god that was indifferent to joy or sorrow, he had been watching his prey shiver in the corner.

The moment he showed a true opening, that tentacle would strike, coiling around his neck—

Just then, perhaps because Zhong Ming’s nerves were stretched to their breaking point, the tentacle resting on the window seemed to twitch.

BANG—!

Zhong Ming recoiled violently, his right shoulder slamming into the wooden wall of the confessional with a dull thud.

In the vast, silent chapel, any sound was conspicuous. Joan whipped his head around, staring straight at the confessional. “Who’s there!”

Zhong Ming felt his blood freeze in that instant. He held his breath and stared wide-eyed as two legs outside the stained-glass window turned and walked towards him step by step.

“Who’s hiding there?”

After the initial surprise, Joan calmed down quickly, a faint smirk even playing at the corners of his mouth. His gender was still a secret within the mansion; currently, only the Duke himself knew, and perhaps Albert, who might have sensed something.

If someone else were eavesdropping, it would be troublesome. Joan licked his lower lip, eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at the nearby confessional, already harboring a suspicion about who was inside.

“Where did this little rat come from?”

His pace was unhurried yet immensely oppressive. When he was only a step away from the confessional, he even softened his voice.

“If you come out on your own—” He still used his female voice, speaking with exceptional tenderness. “I’ll be a little gentler when I punish you.”

Hearing this, Zhong Ming clamped his hand over his mouth inside the confessional. His back pressed hard against the wall as he listened to his heartbeat spiraling out of control, his breathing becoming rapid.

Should I go out?

Seeing Joan get closer and closer, Zhong Ming bit his lip. However, just as he finally decided to push the door open, a voice rang out from a distance: “Put your clothes on.”

Joan’s footsteps froze instantly. He turned his head sharply and saw a figure sitting in the corner of a pew, two rows from the chapel entrance.

He hadn’t noticed when the man had appeared. Half of the figure’s body was submerged in shadow; only his crossed legs and his pale, interlaced hands resting on his knees were visible.

A ring set with a brilliant green emerald shimmered in the darkness.

Joan’s attention was instantly diverted. Through the hollows of the lattice window, Zhong Ming watched those legs turn around and finally let out a sharp breath of relief.

“What?” Joan turned and walked toward the Duke, his lips curling provocatively as he gestured up and down his own body. “You created all of this. Your Grace, are you finding this unbearable now?” He paused, his tone growing more ironic. “Or should I call you big brother?”

Hiding in the confessional, Zhong Ming was numb with shock. His mind went blank; he stopped worrying about being discovered and glanced to the side, only to find that the tentacle that had been resting there was gone. It was as if he had just experienced a hallucination.

On the other side, the Duke repeated: “Put your clothes on.”

There was no emotional fluctuation in his tone. Yet, as the words left his mouth, an ephemeral sense of pressure suddenly enveloped the chapel.

The smile on Joan’s face stiffened, and a light sweat broke out on his forehead. He stared at the shadow in the distance, gritting his teeth hard.

He loathed the Duke’s indifferent demeanor. The master of this dungeon, the “Duke,” always hid in the darkness. He didn’t even seem like a monster; he was more like a symbol, a cold, emotionless statue of a god.

Joan’s expression turned grim as he glared at the shadow. This Duke had better not let him catch any leverage.

The chapel fell silent for a moment, followed by the rustle of fabric. Through the screen, Zhong Ming saw Joan put on the royal blue dress once more.

As he transformed back into a “she,” all of Joan’s resentment seemed hidden behind a noble, icy exterior. He whispered, “I need new guests.” Joan said coldly, “If they don’t arrive soon, I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to maintain this form.”

Hearing this, Zhong Ming’s eyelid twitched, and his brow furrowed. What did he mean by guests? After a moment’s thought, he realized: he was likely talking about the players!

The Duke replied: “Soon.”

Joan nodded and walked toward the chapel exit. As he passed the second row, his pace faltered. He tilted his head and asked, “What about Zhong Ming?”

He glanced inconspicuously toward the confessional, then retracted his gaze to look at the Duke with interest, eyes narrowing slightly. “Are you just going to let Albert cling to him like that?”

Joan asked this with the clear intention of testing him.

In the shadows, the Duke’s hands remained motionless on his knees. He turned his head slightly, seemingly indifferent. “Let him do as he pleases.”

Joan’s hopes were dashed, and he frowned slightly. Somewhat disappointed, he looked away: “Is that so?”

Then, he stepped out of the chapel, his figure quickly vanishing into the curtain of rain.

Silence returned to the chapel.

Crouched in the confessional, Zhong Ming took several sharp breaths. His vision was severely limited through the small window; he could only see three rows of pews back from the altar and could not see where the Duke was. Not knowing if the other had left, he remained huddled inside, not daring to make a sound.

He could only hear his own labored breathing and the sound of the torrential rain outside. Zhong Ming bit his lip, terrified to step out.

After an unknown amount of time, a long, drawn-out bell suddenly rang out from the chapel.

It was 9:00 PM. Zhong Ming snapped his head up. In fifteen minutes, it would be time to deliver tea and snacks to the Duke!

If he hurried back now, he might still make it.

Zhong Ming stood up, placed his hand on the door handle, took a deep breath, and pushed it open.

The chapel was empty and quiet.

The statue on the altar remained eerie, showing no trace that anyone had been there.

Zhong Ming stood before the confessional, his eyes scanning every pew. Once certain no one was there, he finally exhaled and relaxed. The Duke must have left. Zhong Ming hurriedly closed the confessional door and sprinted to the chapel entrance. Looking at the downpour, he gritted his teeth, took off his coat to cover his head, and plunged into the endless rain.

The rain was incredibly heavy. In the short distance from the chapel to the mansion, the coat over his head was soaked through, and his clothes were splattered.

He rushed into his bedroom, quickly changed out of his wet clothes, and hurried to the kitchen to get the tea and snacks. He arrived at the study door at the very last minute.

With lowered eyes, Zhong Ming gently placed the refreshments on the table. He glanced at the grandfather clock to confirm he wasn’t late before letting out a discrete sigh of relief.

He took half a step back and stood respectfully to the side. Watching the Duke sit as usual in the red velvet chair and pick up the black tea, he couldn’t help but think about what had happened in the chapel.

Did the Duke find him?

Zhong Ming pursed his lips, feeling uneasy. He had been too panicked earlier; his brain had short-circuited when he saw the tentacle beside him. Thinking back, that tentacle seemed slightly different from the ones he had seen with the Duke before.

For some reason, he hadn’t seen the Duke’s tentacles since that one time. So, Zhong Ming couldn’t be sure if it was the same one.

But if it wasn’t… Zhong Ming shuddered at the thought that some other monster might have been right next to him. That was even more terrifying than being caught by the Duke and Joan.

Sweat beaded on his forehead as he forced himself to stop thinking about it.

“What are you thinking about?”

Zhong Ming snapped back to reality and looked up. He saw the Duke had turned his head slightly at some point, his profile casting a silhouette on the carpet.

Seeing that Zhong Ming had come to his senses, he turned his head. Zhong Ming composed himself and asked, “Your Grace, is there anything you need?”

The Duke reached out and tapped the edge of the desk. “I’m telling you to sit down and eat.”

Zhong Ming followed the direction of his finger and realized that a chair had been added to the side of the large desk at some point. He froze in surprise.

Seeing him stay still, the Duke picked up his tea and said, “Sit. It saves you from dropping crumbs everywhere.”

His voice was flat, but Zhong Ming’s face suddenly flushed red. He felt strangely like a child being scolded by a parent. He stammered for a moment, then had no choice but to obediently sit in the chair.

Over the past few days, Zhong Ming had noticed something: the Duke didn’t seem to care for sweets. Likely not wanting to upset Madam Mary, who prepared them, he always made Zhong Ming finish the desserts.

Today’s snack was cheesecake.

Zhong Ming sat in the chair, eyes downcast toward the orange-yellow triangular slice. He picked up a fork, carved out a piece, and put it in his mouth. A silky, fresh sweetness spread across his palate.

It’s delicious.

Zhong Ming swallowed a mouthful of cheesecake and looked up slightly, suddenly realizing his angle was quite peculiar.

Before, he had always stood behind the Duke. Now, sitting slightly to the side, he could see the man’s legs in his suit trousers, crossed over each other.

Zhong Ming suddenly thought of Li Yizhi, who wanted him to find out what the Duke actually looked like.

To be honest, he was curious himself. Zhong Ming took a soft breath, his hands moving mechanically as he shoveled another piece of cake into his mouth. Simultaneously, he inconspicuously raised his eyes—

“Did you go out?”

At that exact moment, the Duke’s words froze his movements.

Zhong Ming panicked for a second and instinctively said, “No.”

The moment the word left his mouth, he regretted it. He had answered too quickly, and he had lied. If he had just said he went out, it wouldn’t have been a big deal, but now he had exposed his own restlessness.

It was too late. Zhong Ming instinctively bit his lip. In his peripheral vision, he saw the man’s long fingers tapping on the desk.

After these past few days, Zhong Ming had become familiar with this habit; it was what the Duke did when he was thinking. His body stiffened, and he hardly dared to breathe.

The study fell into silence.

After an unknown amount of time, Zhong Ming saw the Duke uncross his legs and lean forward slightly. Then, a hand reached out.

Overwhelmed with nerves, Zhong Ming instinctively flinched away.

The hand paused in mid-air, then slowed its movement, as if approaching a puppy barking in the rainy night, slowly drawing near to Zhong Ming and brushing aside the slightly damp hair on his cheek.

Then, he curved his fingers and brushed the back of his hand against Zhong Ming’s cheek. “So cold.” The Duke’s hand touched him only briefly before retreating to the armrest. “Whose coat are you wearing?”

His voice was light, as if he were just asking casually. Zhong Ming paused, thinking to himself that the man had sharp eyes. His own coat was soaked and he had no replacement, so he had borrowed Li Yizhi’s. The fit was too large. Li Yizhi hadn’t even been that willing, grumbling and warning him not to ruin it.

Zhong Ming’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he weighed his options, his lips parting slightly.

But the Duke spoke first: “Think before you speak.”

As he said it, he tapped a finger on the desk, producing a crisp clack.

Zhong Ming choked on his words. After a moment of hesitation, he told the truth: “It’s Li Yizhi’s.”

Hearing the name, the Duke offered no comment. He spread his fingers on the desk and tapped it rhythmically; it was impossible to tell if he was pleased or not. Zhong Ming pursed his lips, lowered his head, and continued eating the cheesecake.

A moment later, the Duke spoke again. “I’ll have Madam Mary make you a few more sets of clothes in a few days,” he said calmly. “Don’t wear other people’s things from now on.”

His tone wasn’t heavy. One might even call it gentle, yet his attitude held a faint, underlying firmness. Zhong Ming’s fork paused. He instinctively frowned and muttered, “…That’s not necessary, is it?”

For some reason, he always felt that although the duke was polite and aloof, his words and actions occasionally revealed the oppressive aura of a superior who was used to giving orders, as if he were certain that no one would disobey him. Zhong Ming subconsciously resisted, not even realizing that his attitude was much bolder than it had been a few days ago.

Seeing his refusal, the Duke was silent for a moment, his voice softening even further: “You don’t want them?”

Zhong Ming was already feeling guilty because of the chapel incident, so his annoyance vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He bit his lip and murmured, “I understand.”

At this, the Duke’s curved fingers relaxed. He leaned back slightly, his gaze falling on the youth’s pale profile, and said nothing more.

Since they are free clothes, might as well take them, Zhong Ming told himself. He let out a nearly imperceptible sigh, lowered his head to stuff the last bite of cake into his mouth, put down the fork, and whispered, “Your Grace, I’ll take my leave now.”

But just as he was about to get up, the Duke raised a hand. “Wait.”

Zhong Ming’s footsteps halted. He held his breath and stared at his toes, feeling nervous.

He felt the Duke’s gaze lingering on him. Then, the man said slowly, “The weather here is poor after autumn begins. Don’t go out as much.”

Upon hearing this, Zhong Ming paused, wondering if the man was hinting at something or subtly warning him.

But before he could analyze it further, the Duke withdrew his gaze. A pale hand reached from behind the chair to pick up and unfold a newspaper. He spoke as if in passing: “Also, new players are coming.”

“Remember to stay away from them.”

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