..
By the time they were finished, the light of dawn had already appeared outside the floor-to-ceiling window.
The Boss effortlessly woke Wood, whose skin was flushed from a whole night of tossing and turning, saying, "Do you want to shower alone or with me?"
I..
His voice was a bit hoarse.
It looks like you need help.
No! No! I.. I can do it myself..
Fearing that the energetic, monster-like Boss would launch another frantic assault in the name of grooming once he was in the bathroom, Wood forced his aching, weak body to stand up and stumbled toward the bathroom.
The Boss narrowed his eyes and watched him disappear behind the bathroom door. Only when the sound of splashing water drifted from the bathroom did he rise, put on his bathrobe, turn on the television, watch the daily news.
..
In the bathroom.
Warm water soaked his hair and flowed down his neck and across his body, as Wood's memories unconsciously drifted back to six months ago.
Back then..
With his mind a complete blank, he drifted aimlessly across the vast, boundless sea while clutching a piece of driftwood. Thirsting and starving, he was on the verge of dehydration and exhaustion when he was discovered by a refugee ship laden with undocumented migrants.
The crew dragged him, who was on the brink of death, onto the boat and shared their precious fresh water and food with him. Upon discovering that he did not even know his own name, they took the piece of wood he had been clutching tightly in his arms when he was rescued and treated it as his name.
As the refugee boat was about to arrive in Miami, it came under gunfire from the Coast Guard, causing the crew members to leap into the sea one after another, struggling to swim toward the bushes along the shore.
Wood swam toward the shore with them and received a warm welcome from the local Cuban immigrants; due to his blond hair and blue eyes, the locals believed him to be a survivor of an undocumented shipwreck, he was eventually sent to New York to receive medical treatment.
In a New York hospital, he—a man with no legal identity, no past memories, not a cent to his name, yet possessing a handsome face and a healthy body—received warm suggestions from the doctors and nurses.
They suggested he pay his medical bills with his body.
I am perfectly healthy! During my time at your hospital, I haven't—
The beds in the Inpatient Department, the three meals a day, even the hospital gown you're wearing—everything must be paid for!
“..”
Don't worry about not having enough money to pay the bill; you can serve us at market rates, we will also introduce you to high-end clientele afterward. With your looks and figure, you'll be able to clear your debt in no time.
“..”
Unwilling to sell himself for money, Wood chose to escape through the window.
However, without legal status, a residence, or any professional certifications, Wood could not find a legitimate job in New York.
Cold and hungry, he had once tried to join the ranks of the homeless.
But in the gathering area for the homeless, he encountered not only filthy vagrants, but also thieves, prostitutes, addicts, and—monsters resembling zombies, whose bodies were twisted and folded from severe drug addiction, whose limbs were rotting, whose gazes were dull, who reeked of a foul stench.
To make matters worse, Molecule had his eyes on him.
They cornered him in a filthy alleyway without surveillance, forcing him to work for them: "You're lucky to have that blonde hair and blue eyes that wealthy white people love, your features are beautiful—you're a rare, high-end piece of goods."
“I don't want to—"
You don't have the right to say 'no'!
Wood had no choice but to flee once again, sprinting through the darkness until he unknowingly arrived at the entrance of the Master Private Art Museum, on the verge of being captured by the Molecules—
The museum doors suddenly swung open, several armed security guards rushed out, firing their weapons to disperse the Molecules. Afterward, the Boss took the shaken Wood to the second-floor lounge.
Two hours later, the Boss reappeared, demanding payment from Wood, who had finished eating, drinking, bathing.
What can you offer me? Money, or—
Looking at the Boss's handsome face, which resembled a sun god of the mortal realm, his ocean-blue eyes, Wood's heart suddenly burned with an unusual heat. As if losing his soul, he blurted out, "I.. I can repay you with my body, if you don't mind.."
Of course—I don't mind.
The man smiled leisurely, lifting his burning, flushed chin: "No need to be nervous. As long as you trust me completely and obey me.. what comes next will be very pleasurable.."
I..
Relax, accept me.
“But—”
The sound came to an abrupt halt.
The Boss's lips pressed against his lips, tender yet unmistakable; the moment their lips met, it felt as if all the strength had been drained from his body.
After that.. it was..
..
Phew—
Wood let out a long sigh, ending the memories of mingled shame and ecstasy. He turned off the water valve, stepped out of the shower, leaned his hands against the mirror. Looking at himself in the reflection, he said, "Wood, remember, he is very kind to you right now, saying you are his precious collection! But he is himself after all, he does not belong to you! You cannot stay here for the rest of your life! And—"
(This art museum is truly strange.. everything about it feels eerie..)
Muttering to himself, Wood dried his body and hair before walking out of the bathroom.
By this time, the sun had already risen.
The Boss was sitting on the sofa in his bathrobe, reading the morning news.
Wood walked to his side, contemplating whether to say something sweet to cheer him up, when suddenly—
—It is reported that the aircraft generated a massive impact upon hitting the ground, resulting in a small-scale forest fire.
Oh my God!
Wood was shocked by the news of the crash, staring blankly at the large screen.
.. Witnesses reported hearing a massive explosion at the time, followed by seeing a giant fireball hurtling toward the ground, with thick black smoke billowing upward. The vibrations caused the glass of many nearby buildings to shatter. Emergency responders arrived on the scene immediately after receiving the report, firefighters have now successfully extinguished the fire. It has been confirmed that all individuals on board perished in the crash.
The reporter stood before the police line, delivering a professional report. Behind him, the disaster site was filled with billowing black smoke, as emergency responders, firefighters, police officers moved in and out with urgency.
“All of them perished.."
For some reason, as the reporter held up the microphone and spoke those words, Wood's vision began to blur. It was as if his body had instantly traveled to the chaotic and noisy disaster site; his nose caught the foul stench of black smoke, his eyes saw plane wreckage deep within the thick smoke, being gripped and twisted by an invisible giant until it snapped and lost all its shape—
And—
A "person" whose entire body was charred and withered like a mummy, wearing an Ancient Egyptian style ring on his charred phalanges that shimmered with golden light.
The "man" stepped out from the twisted, unidentifiable wreckage of the plane, walking with charred footsteps. He crossed the cordon and moved toward the crowd. Everyone at the scene—including emergency responders, firefighters, police, bystanders, television film crews—failed to see "him."
Who are you! Why did you—
Wood instinctively chased after him, following the "person" to the bustling streets of New York.
Here, he saw yellow sands filling the sky, with locusts flying madly amidst the swirling dust. Wherever the locusts and flying sand passed, large groups of living people were corroded into mummy-like monsters, their twisted and hideous appearances looking exactly like Edvard Munch's oil painting, The Scream!
Suddenly, the monsters spotted Wood!
They rushed toward him—
—Ah!
Wood let out a piercing scream.
..
..
“Wood?”
Hmm?
Wood opened his eyes in confusion, only to find himself sitting on top of the Boss, was struck with terror—
Ah—Boss! I..
So proactive this morning; I'm pleased.
The man lowered his head and bit his ear: "That's why I've decided not to pursue the matter of you using work hours to livestream, as long as you promise there won't be a next time."
Really?
“Of course it is.”
Boss! You are as merciful as God!
Ecstatic, Wood instantly forgot the terrifying illusions from just now. He gave the Boss a fervent kiss and asked, "Could you also clear the loan statement for that phone you crushed yesterday?"
Yes.
Can I buy another new phone while I'm at it?
I'm not a stingy Boss, as long as you work hard enough, you'll be able to save up enough money for a new phone very soon.
“..”
What's the matter? Are you angry?
I..
Wood looked at the Boss with a distressed expression.
The Boss gave a slight smile, lifting the hand he had originally placed on Wood's waist to pinch his chubby cheek, teasingly saying, "I have more than once suspected that you were a money boy custom-made by my enemy to target my preferences. However, not only is your technique as poor as a child's, but your eyes remain so clear whenever you take money from my hands that it convinces me that money is merely a basic necessity for your survival."
“..”
Anyway—
The man casually took out a hundred-dollar bill and handed it to Wood: "Put some clothes on, go across the street to buy me a cup of coffee, keep the change as a tip for your errand."
—Boss! You are more merciful than God!
Wood cheerfully took the brand-new hundred-dollar bill, pulled on his pants, ruffled his still-damp hair, walked out of the office humming a little tune.
Once he was certain that he had completely left, the man stood up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window. Looking out at the New York streets at eight in the morning, he lightly brushed his thumb against his lips, which still carried a trace of Wood's scent, a playful smile appeared at the corners of his mouth. "You, who are both cunning and innocent, always attracting the things of that world—what kind of surprise will you bring me today?"
So you kept him by your side on purpose, Mister Master?
A cold, all-seeing voice rang out from behind, as the air gradually filled with the slightly hallucinogenic, sweet fragrance unique to the Egyptian Blue Lotus.
Master did not turn around, his ocean-blue eyes staring indifferently at the blurred golden figure in the floor-to-ceiling window: "A great and ancient goddess should not be appearing here."
The Ring of Osiris has been brought into New York.