I saw the clear disgust in his eyes, and my own lit up.
Captian feared nothing in this world, yet he still frowned at a bowl of medicine. Was he… afraid of bitterness? The thought made my eyes sparkle like headlights. For a second, he looked so much like a sulky child.
My gaze flickered mischievously, and from the way Captian glanced at me, it felt like he could read exactly what I was thinking.
Without saying a word, he suddenly took the bowl and drank every drop of the herbal medicine in one breath, not even frowning once.
I gaped in shock.
A moment ago he acted like he hated it, now he was suddenly some fearless, stoic hero?
I blinked and asked softly, "President Anderson… was it bitter?"
Captian didn't answer. Instead, he reached out, grabbed the back of my neck, and pressed his lips to mine. My eyes widened in disbelief, his wound hadn't even healed, what was he trying to do?
While kissing me, he forcefully coaxed my lips open, and the remaining herbal medicine, bitter and heavy slid from his mouth into mine. The bitterness exploded across my tongue instantly, sharp enough to make my eyes sting red, as if he had bullied me on purpose.
Only when he decided it was enough did he let me go.
I coughed violently, covering my mouth, desperately wanting to spit out the terrible bitterness. This man was insane—how could he treat me like that? So wicked!
"Bitter?" Captian asked, watching me carefully. His mood seemed strangely lighter now, the atmosphere in the room softening by a few degrees.
"…Very bitter…" I glared at him, feeling utterly wronged, looking as pitiful as a drenched kitten.
His Adam's apple moved. My pitiful expression seemed to stab right into his heart.
Growing bolder, I looked at him resentfully. Since his expression didn't change, I became even braver.
"President Anderson, all you ever do is bully me. But you still have to take anti-inflammatory medicine tomorrow. Not just tomorrow at least for a whole week."
As I said that, my eyes gleamed like a sly little fox.
When the time came, I would brew something even more bitter, let's see if he still dared to bully me then.
Captian glanced at me a few times, suddenly realizing just how lively and beautiful I looked. She, no, I was far more captivating like this than when I was pale and emotionless.
"Are you that happy watching me drink medicine?" he asked, raising a brow.
I froze for a moment, then waved my hands quickly.
"No, I just… I just hope President Anderson recovers soon!"
He shot me a cold look but didn't reply.
I stopped overthinking, cleaned up the empty bowl, and prepared to leave. But then I noticed he was holding the little demon plushie, studying it with surprising seriousness. I had no idea what he was trying to see was he expecting it to bloom?
He looked at me again, eyes sharp with a hint of curiosity.
"Why did you think of buying this toy for me?"
The question nearly made me laugh out loud.
Why?
Because the plushie looked exactly like him like a little demon king with horns. Captian was also a demon… just missing the horns.
And honestly, I bought it to squeeze and abuse whenever I was upset so I wouldn't go crazy. Obviously, I couldn't say any of that.
I blinked innocently, voice sweet as honey.
"Because I thought it looked really cute. And… I don't have much money. It's the only birthday gift I could afford for President Anderson. It was the most expensive thing I could buy."
Captian frowned was I really that poor?
His expression darkened strangely. As if dissatisfied with my situation, he took out a black card from his wallet. The black card, embossed with a golden dragon motif, gleamed dangerously under the lights.
He didn't say a word as he stuffed the card into my hand, high-handed, domineering, impossible to reject.
I froze, staring at the card.
He gave this to me because I said I was poor? Was he… pitying me?
I didn't dare ask. I simply tucked the card into my pocket. Whether I used it was a question for later.
"President Anderson… do you like the birthday gift?"
My heart jumped. I couldn't help asking as if hearing the answer might determine whether I lived or died tonight.
He didn't respond, but the temperature around us definitely warmed. His expression softened ever so slightly.
I quietly exhaled in relief.
It seemed… today I might actually survive.
I lifted the bowl, ready to leave. But the moment I took one step, he caught my wrist.
My heart slammed in my chest.
"President Anderson… what are you doing?"
"Sit," he ordered, lips curling slightly. "Sleep with me."
My eyes widened again.
Sleep… with him?
Did he mean just lying down together or something that was definitely not child-friendly?
Hadn't he just been stabbed? Why was he still like this?
My cheeks heated up, but the instinctive refusal in my eyes, no matter how tiny didn't escape him.
His gaze darkened, deep as an abyss. When his eyes landed on me, it felt like being trapped in a cage with a hungry predator.
"What are you thinking?" he asked quietly. "Or do you assume I'll do something to you?"
I shook my head violently. "No… n-no, I wasn't thinking anything…"
Still holding the bowl, I didn't dare move.
"You stabbed me," he continued slowly, "and then dare to not take care of me day and night? Who gave you that courage?"
I stiffened.
So it really was just… taking care of him?
Even that was terrifying enough.
Sleeping next to him if his predatory mood flared, wouldn't I be done for?
But I had stabbed him. If I refused now, he might truly lose control again.
I bit my lip. I had no choice but to face him head-on.
His bed, black sheets and blankets felt cold and oppressive. When I got in, my body instinctively curled up in fear. Not long after, Captian entered the bed as well.
His body radiated heat like a furnace. The moment he slid under the covers, warmth enveloped me, chasing away the cold but also making dread crawl up my spine.
I curled up at the very edge of the bed, afraid to get any closer.
If I said the wrong thing and he snapped again, what would I do?
I needed to avoid that at all costs.