Everybody's a Pet
1130 Words
The Leto Dynasty.
Palace Guard Camp.
In the dead of night, Charles walked to the girl's door and knocked lightly.
Knock, knock-knock, knock-knock-knock.
Three short and light knocks.
This was their secret signal.
But it had always been her knocking on his door for years. This was the first time he came to her.
Charles was not a passive person. He couldn't figure out the girl's strange attitude. It wasn't that he cared about her, he just intensely disliked things slipping out of his control.
Today was also the first time he had attempted to kill someone ,, and failed.
After a while, the door opened, and Charles was stunned by the girl's attire.
She was wearing ordinary black training pants on her lower half, but her upper body was bare, only wrapped in white bandages around her chest.
The girl was slender. Although her chest was not very full, it had developed, and the tightly wrapped bandages made her breasts look like two peaches, barely contained and creating a deep cleavage.
Below the bandages, her slim waist was exposed, the skin smooth and delicate, with a cute little navel in the middle of her flat stomach.
Seeing the nearly half-naked girl in front of him, Charles hesitated for a moment, but she remained calm, showing no hint of embarrassment or deliberate seduction.
Charles was about to speak when he wrinkled his nose at the pungent smell wafting from inside the room.
Despite the familiar scents of disinfectant and blood on her, the stronger smell of alcohol and tobacco was overwhelming.
"Come in."
She seemed completely unconcerned about her disheveled state, turning to walk to the bed and sitting down, taking a drag from a cigarette in her left hand, exhaling a smoke ring, and then raising the brown bottle in her right hand to take a swig of alcohol.
Watching her behavior, so different from the girl he knew, Charles was momentarily speechless, staring at her in thought.
Renee let him stare, finishing her cigarette and carelessly flicking the butt to the floor, where she crushed it with her slipper. Then she gulped down the remaining whiskey, the brown liquid trickling from the corners of her mouth, down her chin and neck, soaking the bandages on her chest.
She wiped her mouth, propped one leg on the bed, and casually placed the bottle on her knee, finally looking at the black-clad man standing before her.
As a member of the royal guard, Charles' face was excessively striking.
He had a slightly feminine appearance, with a sharp nose and delicate features. His hair had grown a bit long, with strands falling over his deep-set eyes, high nose bridge, and white skin. His thin lips were a vivid red, full and inviting.
Were it not for his Adam's apple and flat chest, his looks could rival that of a devastatingly beautiful woman.
Renee marveled at his finely chiseled features, whereas she, as mere cannon fodder, had an ordinary face, barely considered delicate.
It was no wonder that despite their years of hardship and companionship, he treated her like a dog.
He killed her without hesitation!
So, Renee had no intention of "developing feelings" with him. The original's unrequited warmth for years didn't move his stone heart, and she wasn't about to "polish an iron rod into a needle."
After downing a whole bottle of whiskey, Renee hiccupped, feeling the alcohol numb her nerves, easing her pain.
Despite this body's long-term training and strength, the deep wound, affecting her organs, hurt constantly, making it impossible to sleep.
Fortunately, the royal guard had generous funding, ensuring a high standard of living as long as one was alive.
Like the standard dormitory, which was far from basic and even luxurious, given the royal quality assurance.
A one-bedroom apartment with a terrace, spacious and bright, with fully equipped furnishings.
Charles, unable to reconcile her actions with his understanding, broke the silence.
"Don't you have anything to ask me?"
His voice was like a plucked string instrument, cold and magnetic, exceptionally pleasant.
Renee raised an eyebrow.
Grasping the plot, she really did not have much idea, the relationship between the two seemed to be much closer than he was with the regulars, and he would protect her during life and death battles, but usually get along, it was almost like the original body was shaving its head, taking the initiative to talk to him and share their moods, and it was rare for him to open his mouth.
After all, in his eyes, she was little more than a pet he casually raised.
But Renee thought he was just a royal hound.
Both were pets, so there was no need to feel bitter.
Her current goal was simply to stay alive. It wasn't that she feared death, but rather the repeated deaths, dying again and again.
The system's silence indicated it was scheming again, and she was too angry to bother with it, not even wanting to curse it anymore.
Not that she was scared, just tired of dying.
"Hmm... let me think..."
Having just downed a bottle of whiskey, and with the original body unused to alcohol, Renee's head felt heavy, and the bottle slipped from her hand.
The black oak floor prevented the bottle from breaking, rolling a short distance with a series of crisp sounds.
Renee's head grew heavier, her body stiff and unable to sit straight. She swayed a few times before collapsing into Charles' arms.
He smelled faintly fresh, his temperature much cooler than her feverish forehead, like a handful of snow from a winter forest, clean and cold.
Renee couldn't help but take a deep breath, feeling refreshed.
Charles stared at the girl's head in his arms.
During training, they had physical contact, but Charles had never paid her this much attention.
She used to have short hair, now it reached her shoulders, soft and fluffy, like a squirrel's tail.
Charles reached out and touched her head, finding her hair smooth and soft like animal fur. He petted her again, then grabbed her slender neck, tightening his fingers.
A slight force would snap her neck.
Renee didn't expect that after his seemingly gentle gesture, like something from a romantic drama, he would try to strangle her in such an atmosphere.
In her current state, she couldn't resist...
Renee lifted her arms and hugged his waist, burying her head in his chest, rubbing her face against his firm abs.
With such force, it seemed she wanted to flatten his well-defined muscles with her face.
Let's just die! Who's afraid?
She had grown numb to it...
If she had to die under a peony flower, it would still be a happy ending. Although he had a black heart, he was indeed good-looking.
- Writer
