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"Heh. Not bad—this place is pretty well equipped," Vermouth said, glancing around.
"Which room do I sleep in? The one on the left?"
The suite had three bedrooms and a living room. Without waiting for an answer, she walked into the left room.
It was empty.
Tease and run—what a vicious woman.
Steven sat cross-legged on the sofa, pretending to meditate like some enlightened master, doing his best to suppress impure thoughts.
"You said I was playing with fire just now," Vermouth's voice drifted over. "Where's this fire? Why don't I see it?"
When she reappeared, she'd changed into a semi-transparent nightgown. Her perfect figure loomed indistinctly beneath the fabric—more than enough to set anyone's imagination wild.
Deliberate seduction. No doubt about it.
Steven glanced once. His first thought was a honey trap. But then it hit him—what secrets could he possibly have that were worth her going this far?
"There's fire in your future—self-inflicted," he said stiffly. "Look not, speak not."
Lust was a blade hanging over every man's head.
Whatever Vermouth was planning, he wasn't biting.
If it cost him nothing, he might've been willing to let the little brother take one for the team.
"Playing the righteous man now?" Vermouth smiled and suddenly collapsed into his arms.
Perfect angle.
Beneath the loose nightgown, an endless view lay right in front of him.
"Stop pretending. Men are all the same. Considering you saved my life today, I might even be willing to repay you with my body."
She lifted her leg and rubbed it against him.
"Don't mess around," Steven growled. "You're injured. Keep this up, and someone's going to die."
Unbearable.
Now he understood why interrogation scenes in movies always saved the honey trap for last.
This—this was exactly why.
Little Brother: I am ready to charge at any moment for my big bro.
"Oh? Didn't expect you to be the considerate type," Vermouth teased, her hands growing bolder.
"Don't push it," Steven warned. "My patience has limits."
Something felt off.
With Vermouth's personality, she wouldn't be this proactive unless she wanted something.
They'd gone deep before—but that had been pure impulse, not emotion.
"I don't care," she said. "I just want to see you lose control."
She straddled his lap, hooked a finger into her nightgown, and pulled it aside to bare her shoulder.
"Temptress," Steven muttered. "Looks like I have no choice today. You started this fire—you're the one putting it out."
Calm against Vermouth's seduction?
To hell with that.
Steven grabbed Vermouth and threw her onto the sofa, following up with a full-body pin.
Bomb or no bomb—who cared.
Truth be told, he wasn't afraid of her playing tricks at all.
She'd come to him willingly. If warnings didn't work, there was no point pretending to be a gentleman.
Doing what you wanted—that was the mark of a real outlaw.
"Wait," Vermouth said suddenly, reaching out to stop him. "Every time I see you use bombs, you just casually pluck something from your body. Even something as fine as a hair has terrifying power. It looks like something straight out of a fantasy movie. I'm really curious—how do you do it?"
So that was it.
All this effort—for his bombs.
"I already told you," Steven said honestly. "I am the bomb. And right now, I'm about to explode."
Of course, she didn't believe him.
Playing games like this meant she deserved a proper lesson.
"Ow—watch it, you hit my wound!" Vermouth cried, trying to back out.
Too late.
"You didn't care about your life before," Steven replied coolly. "What's a little wound?"
"At least let me take a shower first!"
"I don't mind. We can put out the fire first."
"..."
Steven had no intention of letting her escape.
As he spoke, he unleashed the legendary Awei Eighteen Techniques, going straight for the high-damage moves without mercy.
Two hours later—
The techniques weren't even halfway through, and Vermouth was already completely spent.
Worried she might catch a cold, Steven lit a cigarette, carried her back to the bedroom, laid her on the bed, and tucked her in under the covers.
The Next Day
When Steven woke up, Vermouth was still sleeping soundly beside him.
"Seriously, why did you have to mess with me?" he muttered. "Now you know what you're dealing with."
Then a thought struck him."Crap. Ran's medicine."
Remembering that Mouri Ran needed to take her meds in the morning, Steven dropped the idea of waking Vermouth up for some early-morning exercise. He slipped out quietly instead.
While the herbal medicine was simmering, he ordered three breakfasts.
Because Steven was Chinese, Doctor Tomoaki had specifically instructed his people to treat him well. If he needed anything, all he had to do was say the word. Someone would take care of it.
…
"So tired… it feels like my body's been completely drained."
"Where… am I?"
Mouri Ran slowly opened her eyes. The unfamiliar surroundings filled her with confusion and unease.
"My head hurts so bad, and… what's going on?"
"Why does my forehead feel so hot?"
It took her a long while before the memories of yesterday finally came back to her.
"I remember saving the Silver-Haired Devil, and then I passed out."
"So this must be where Steven brought me. Thank goodness I didn't fall into the hands of bad people."
Muttering to herself, Ran tried to get up and move around a bit.
The moment she lifted the blanket, her eyes went wide. Her world seemed to collapse in on itself.
Her clothes had been changed.
No way…Don't tell me…
"No. That's impossible!"
The harder she denied it, the more it felt like the truth.
Even though she carefully checked herself, deep down she had already convinced herself that Steven had taken her purity.
"I can't believe he's that kind of scum."
Creak.
The door suddenly opened. Ran yelped and dove back under the blanket.
"You're awake?"
"Perfect timing. Breakfast just arrived, still hot. Do you want to take your medicine first, or eat?"
Steven walked in with a bowl of freshly prepared herbal medicine, smiling as he spoke.
"Get out! I'd rather die than eat anything from you!"
"And stop imitating Steven's voice. Who are you, really?"
Staring at the unfamiliar face in front of her, Ran felt a wave of nausea.
Even his friendly smile looked disgusting to her now.
"Ran, did your fever mess with your brain? I am Steven. The real deal."
Steven froze for a moment, then quickly realized what was going on.
Yesterday, after Vermouth disguised him, he'd been sporting a pair of small mustaches and looked far more mature. Today he was back to his real face. It was only natural that Ran didn't recognize him.
"Don't lie to me. Steven would never be as filthy as you."
Ran clutched the blanket tightly, wrapping herself up like a cocoon.
"Filthy?"
"Fine. You're the patient, you win. Say whatever you want after you finish your medicine."
"I'll explain everything. Including why I look different from yesterday."
Steven couldn't understand how he'd suddenly become some kind of pervert in her eyes.
Given that Ran was still running a fever and probably emotionally unstable, he didn't bother arguing further.
"I remember now. You really are Steven, but not the Steven I know."
"If I get out of here alive, no matter how long it takes, I'll personally send you to prison."
"....."