Yuan kept his eyes on the road, but his mind wasn't following it.
Instead, a single sentence echoed over and over inside his head.
"Your family in America must be missing you."
Sylas's voice replayed like a curse trapped in the car. Yuan frowned slightly, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel.
Meaningless, he told himself.
There's no point digging up thoughts like that.
He shook his head once, as if to physically push the voice away, and focused forward. A few blocks later, a modest hotel caught his attention nothing fancy, but at least better than the dump they had stayed in the night before.
He slowed down and pulled over.
Yuan stepped out first, grabbing his cap and pulling it low over his head. It made him look more ordinary, easier to blend in. Sylas followed without hesitation. His posture was straight, his expression steeped in that familiar cold arrogance, as if the world around him existed beneath his feet.
They walked into the hotel.
The moment Sylas appeared at the reception desk, the atmosphere shifted. The young women working there froze for half a second, flustered by his looks. Eyes were averted, cheeks flushed. Sylas noticed of course he did but didn't care in the slightest. He rented a room with a flat tone, took the key, and headed straight for the elevator.
Yuan followed a few steps behind then suddenly stopped.
…Food.
His eyes widened slightly.
I didn't feed this guy at all.
His lips pressed into a thin line as he muttered internally.
Amazing. I'm dragging around one of the most dangerous men alive, and I'm starving him. At this rate, I won't even need to assassinate him he'll die of hunger.
Annoyed at himself, he shook his head and called out briefly:
"Wait in the room. Don't move."
Sylas didn't answer.
Yuan went to a nearby convenience store, picked up some food, and forced himself to act like a normal person. No rushing. No scanning. Just another customer. Then he returned to the hotel.
The moment he opened the door, his brain short-circuited.
Sylas had just come out of the shower.
No towel.
No cover.
Nothing.
Water dripped from his damp hair, sliding down his broad shoulders as he stood in the middle of the room, casually drying his hair. When he noticed Yuan, he lifted his head and looked at him with utter, shameless confidence.
Yuan's eyes betrayed him flicking downward for half a second.
"Oh…"
One second.
Two.
Then reality hit.
He whipped his head away and shouted:
"YOU BASTARD! DON'T YOU KNOW HOW TO COVER YOURSELF?!"
Sylas didn't even flinch. He kept looking at his reflection.
"There's no need to yell," he said calmly.
Yuan clenched his teeth, still facing the wall.
"I could've assumed there were other people in this room!"
"You didn't," Sylas replied flatly.
He glanced at the clothes he had worn the day before and grimaced slightly. Wearing the same outfit twice was unthinkable to him a luxury habit so ingrained he barely noticed it.
His phone rang.
Still completely unclothed, Sylas sat down on the chair and answered. It was the center meetings, documents, decisions. Endless responsibilities. Normally, he would be there right now.
But instead, he listened.
Because he had chosen, of his own will, to stay in this cheap hotel with Yuan.
Yuan placed the grocery bags on the table, his back still turned. When he realized Sylas still hadn't dressed, his jaw tightened.
Dealing with this man is its own kind of mission…
Sylas ended the call. Almost immediately, another call came through.
This time
His father.
The moment Sylas answered, the room's atmosphere shifted. The voice on the other end wasn't just shouting it was pressure, crushing and familiar. A voice that had ruled his life for years.
Sylas's eyes darkened. His jaw tensed. He didn't speak.
He listened.
Silently.
Yuan stood with his back turned, but he could feel the weight of the conversation. Even Sylas's silence was arrogan like he was looking down on the voice screaming at him.