Shawn kept his head lowered as well, silently picking at his food occasionally as if lost in his own thoughts. The air was thick with unspoken tension, an almost tangible weight of restraint as if neither of them dared to shatter the uneasy stillness that hung between them.Throughout the meal, they remained locked in their own worlds of thought. Dean replayed his words over and over in his mind, feeling a bittersweet mixture of relief for having spoken them aloud and the lingering sting of inescapable pain.Shawn, on the other hand, occasionally let an inscrutable emotion flicker across his gaze, dark and unreadable. Yet, he stayed silent, never uttering another word.And so, the two finished their meal in silence, each consumed by their own thoughts. They carried their unspoken burdens with them, retreating into the quiet solitude of their respective worlds.A few days later, Dean felt his body had recovered enough, so he decided to cook for himself. The clatter of pots and pans ech
Dean felt a chill run down his spine at those words. "I will remember?" What did that mean? A vague sense of dread crept over him as if there were a hidden agenda, perhaps even a plan behind those words... It forced him to raise his guard once more. Pushing down the unease in his chest, he spoke softly, "I don’t even know how to think anymore."Shawn was silent for a moment after hearing this, then swiftly turned Dean around, his hands pressing down on either side of him. His deep gaze pierced into Dean's eyes like a blade. "Need a clue?"Dean froze, uncertain if this was some kind of “favor” from Shawn. He responded cautiously, "C-can I?""Depends on how you behave," Shawn replied with a slight smile, one that carried a hint of pride and amusement.Dean swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper. "What do you want?"Shawn’s response was simple and direct: "Kiss me."Kiss him? Dean almost thought he had heard wrong. He looked up at Shawn, whose expression was filled with a mixture of
Dean lowered his gaze, thinking for a moment before slowly speaking, "My friends say I'm still confused... but now, I don’t know anything anymore." His tone carried a sense of bewilderment and helplessness. After briefly pausing, he added, "Honestly, I’m not even sure if I have a choice."The words caught Shawn off guard. It dawned on him suddenly—Dean’s state of confusion wasn’t something inherent, but something forced upon him. The tangled relationships, the fate he couldn’t escape, had shaped him into this contradictory and fragile person. Shawn had always believed he was the one in control, yet in this moment, a pang of guilt stirred within him. He realized he was one of the people who had pushed Dean to this breaking point.Shawn's gaze softened slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but then hesitated and swallowed the words. He reached out, pulling Dean into his arms, and whispered, "Sleep. Don't think about it." This time, his tone was unexpectedly gentle.Dean remained t
Dean's emotions were tangled, and despite appearing compliant on the outside, the unease within him remained unshaken. He knew deep down that he had reached a point of no return—any resistance would change nothing. Closing his eyes, he followed Dr. Parker's instructions, making a conscious effort to relax. Slowly, he let his body ease into a state of calm, though his mind remained alert, wary of what might come next.Despite his best efforts to quiet his mind, Dean’s thoughts continued to race, a whirlwind of confusion and fear swirling within him. He couldn’t shake the worry that he might accidentally reveal something he shouldn’t, especially about his reborn. The idea of letting such a secret slip, even under hypnosis, terrified him.As time passed, however, his body began to relax. The tension in his muscles eased, his heartbeat slowed, and his consciousness began to fade, slipping into a haze. Just as he thought he was on the verge of total emptiness, the surroundings around him s
"A blessing in itself?" Dean scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain. He clenched his fists, forcing himself not to be provoked by the messenger’s nonchalance. "I think this new identity is too cowardly."The messenger raised an eyebrow. His voice remained calm, but with a trace of something almost dismissive. "Cowardice has its advantages too. Strength isn’t always a virtue."The messenger's words only fueled Dean’s anger further, and he almost blurted out, "Strength at least allows you to protect yourself!" He took a deep breath, forcing himself to suppress the rising fury, before continuing, his voice laced with frustration. "This cowardly identity I have now—any time I face the slightest threat, I’m left with no choice but to swallow my anger and endure. If I keep living like this, what happens if something goes wrong?"The messenger of the afterlife stared at Dean, his gaze revealing an enigmatic emotion, something not easily understood. His voice remained calm, but there was an
Dean shook his head, his movements slow and sluggish. His gaze drifted from the doctor to Shawn. "No... no," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper, devoid of emotion, almost distant as if he were still caught in a haze.Shawn furrowed his brow, clearly unconvinced. He straightened up and fixed his gaze on Dr. Parker, his tone carrying a commanding edge. “Well?”Dr. Parker paused for a moment, not answering immediately. Instead, he gestured for Shawn to step aside with him. “Mr. Hansley, let’s talk outside,” he said briefly, his words laced with an intentional sense of secrecy.The lines on Shawn's face tightened instantly. He glanced at Dean, checking whether he was truly right, before reluctantly following the doctor toward the door. Once they left, the room was left in a heavy silence, broken only by the fading echo of their footsteps and the lingering hum in Dean's ears, a reminder of the chaos he'd just endured.Dean lay in bed, his gaze blankly fixed on the ceiling. His body fe
He tried to piece the images together, but all he could form each time was either an empty void or a thick, suffocating fog. Dean took a deep breath, his fingers gripping the table's edge, trying to steady himself and focus. But the chaotic memories kept flooding in, like an overwhelming tide, submerging him completely.To Shawn, Dean’s efforts at that moment seemed more like a helpless struggle. His gaze was complex, but he ultimately held back from speaking. He thought to himself that perhaps it was best to give Dean some space—let him eat first, and then, when the time was right, they could confront the heavier topics waiting between them.Dean sensed Shawn’s gaze and slowly lifted his head, his eyes locking with Shawn's. A flicker of confusion crossed his mind. Something felt different about Shawn today. In the past, Shawn had always been eager, almost desperate for him to remember everything, willing to push him in any way possible to trigger those lost memories. But today, Shawn
Ben noticed Dean's reaction and flashed a warm smile, extending his hand toward him. "Hello, Dean, I’m Benjamin Winston."Dean’s body stiffened slightly, a wave of unfamiliarity and unease washing over him, making it feel like he could hardly breathe. His eyes instinctively flickered over Ben, but then quickly dropped to the floor as he struggled to figure out how to respond. The memories of the past surged within him, and he couldn’t help but question if he was truly ready to face these people. Though he tried to steady his breathing, a sharp sense of caution kept prickling at him, urging him to be on guard.Shawn seemed to notice Dean’s hesitation, his brow furrowing as his voice dropped to a low, impatient tone. “What are you doing? Throwing a tantrum? You’d better not play games in front of Uncle Ben.”There was an undeniable sense of command in Shawn’s voice that made Dean tense up. He forced himself to suppress the rising disgust and looked between Ben and Shawn, a wave of confu
He spoke leisurely, but his tone showed a trace of helplessness. “She even told me to stay away from you. Said a kid like you had no business getting tangled up with people like us… that you'd only end up getting hurt.”Dean fell silent. He could understand Greg’s mother’s concerns—the Golden Eagle Gang’s reputation was well-known. And back then, he had been just an ordinary student… a little crybaby, even.But then Greg’s tone shifted, tinged with pride. “I proved to her that you weren’t a coward, just someone who knew how to endure. Only then did she agree to help me and speak to that old man. And after that… well, the old man took care of the problem.”So that was it. Everything finally clicked into place.Dean finally found his voice, though there was still disbelief in it. “How did you prove it?”Greg chuckled softly. There was an unmistakable laziness in his voice as he drawled, “I had my guys pretend to go after your family. And you rushed out to protect them. That doesn’t exac
Dean was momentarily stunned, then let out a sigh and smiled. “You truly do know a lot.”Robert lazily waved a hand, his tone carrying a hint of indifference. “Go get some rest…”Dean nodded, stood up, and headed for the door. Just as he reached it, he turned back to glance at Robert, a mix of emotions flickering in his gaze. “Uncle Robert, see you later.”Robert watched his retreating figure, the corners of his lips curling slightly. There was a barely perceptible trace of admiration in his eyes. ‘What a good kid.’Just as Dean was about to step out, Robert suddenly spoke. “By the door, on the left-hand shelf, second tier, second from the right—those antique gold-rimmed cups. Take them. They’re yours.”Dean froze mid-step, turning back in surprise. “I can’t possibly accept that!”Robert’s expression remained unchanged, his tone calm yet carrying an undeniable authority. “Take them. No refusals.”Dean opened his mouth, wanting to protest, but in the end, he simply walked over to the s
Dean furrowed his brow, a sense of unease creeping up his spine. Something in Robert’s words hinted at layers beneath the surface, as though there were truths left unspoken. His fingers tightened slightly as if trying to steady the flutter of uncertainty in his chest. “Like what? How much do you know? How… how far back does it go?”Robert’s gaze remained steady and sharp as he slowly uttered a name. “I know about what happened between you and Benjamin Winston. Does that answer your question?”The air seemed to freeze at that moment. Dean’s usually composed expression cracked, a flicker of shock flashing across his face. His throat tightened, his pupils narrowing slightly. Almost instinctively, he took a small step back, his lips trembling. “You… how could you know?”Robert’s gaze didn’t waver. He still held that unsettling calm, the air around him thick with a sense of unspoken power. But his voice carried a subtle pressure. “Do you know why that bastard stopped?”Dean’s breath caught
"If we’re going to look into this, someone has to talk to him." Dean’s expression remained calm, but his eyes were unwavering. "I’ll be careful."Greg stared at Dean long before muttering, "Don't trust that old man too easily."Dean gave a nod and then set off on the final stretch of the path leading to the villa. He hadn’t expected anything particularly unusual—until he emerged onto an open clearing and saw a private helicopter approaching. He froze for a few seconds. Good thing he wasn’t afraid of heights, or else he would never have a chance to meet the old man.The helicopter carried him up to the mountaintop, where a team of impeccably trained attendants awaited him. They said nothing, merely bowed with perfect composure and led him forward.It wasn’t until he stepped inside the legendary villa that he truly grasped the scale of its opulence.The corridor alone was dazzling—gilded and magnificent, lined with a carpet so thick and plush that each step felt as if it might swallow h
Greg’s gaze drifted from Chen and Damon back to Ben, his eyes narrowing slightly, a calculating glint hidden beneath his casual demeanor.Ben’s eyes gleamed with a mix of defiance and challenge, a hint of resentment flickering beneath his arrogant demeanor. He lifted his chin slightly, his face radiating pride. “Well, young master, I have now proved I’m not the mastermind behind all this.”Shawn’s footsteps approached from a distance, calm and measured as ever. His voice carried a cool tone. “Maybe not for those two matters, but I have something else here.” He walked steadily toward them, his hand gently resting on Dean’s, each step was deliberate, though the weight of the situation seemed to hang heavily in the air.Greg offered a faint smile, his voice laced with a cold undertone. “Your interrogations never seem to stop, do they? You’ve certainly left a trail of misdeeds.” He glanced briefly at Ben, his eyes devoid of pity. “But do you think you can escape this?”Ben’s expression sh
Damon gave a slight nod, his expression unreadable, his eyes dark and impenetrable, as they could see straight into Ben’s soul. "That’s right. Now… how about you hand over that little thing you’ve got?" He turned to Greg."This?" Greg glanced at the gun in his hand, hesitation flashing in his eyes. After a tense pause, he forced a grin. "Alright… but don’t touch him there. Leave that part for me."Damon’s eyes gleamed with a cold smile, his voice chillingly casual. "Fine. Then I’ll cripple him first."Ben’s heart sank like a stone, his pulse racing as if his blood were flowing in reverse. He drew a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. "Gentlemen… can’t we talk this through?"Damon’s lips curled into a sharp, almost cruel smile, his eyes filled with disdain. "Sure. I’ll give you one chance to speak properly. Waste it… and there’s nothing I can do to help you." His tone was light, almost indifferent, but it carried an unmistakable weight that crushed the air out of the room.Ben’s
Greg’s uncle caught a glimpse of the simmering intent to kill in Greg’s eyes and finally broke down. His voice trembled uncontrollably, each word drenched in panic. "Young master! It was him! He told me to do it! Please, young master, just grant me a swift end!"Greg turned his head slightly, throwing a glance at his uncle. A cold, humorless chuckle escaped his lips. "Alright. Since you are being so sincere, I’ll deal with him first."He raised his hand, pointing the gun directly at Ben’s most vulnerable spot. The barrel loomed close—too close. Ben stared at it in wide-eyed terror, the last threads of his composure snapping. He collapsed into desperate sobs. "No! Please, no! Young master!""Fair is fair. He’s already been dealt with down there. Now, it’s your turn."Ben broke completely, his voice cracking with raw fear and anguish. "I’ll talk! I’ll tell you everything! I’m not the mastermind! Neither is your uncle! We’re just pawns! He takes orders from me, and I… I follow the orders
Greg’s eyes narrowed as he shifted his gaze toward the man, his expression colder than ice. His voice was calm but laced with lethal intent. “Go on. Keep talking.”The man’s lips quivered before he finally broke down and spoke. “It was me… I waited until she fell asleep, then lit the charcoal to make it look like a suicide…”A heavy silence fell over the hall, suffocating and absolute. For a brief moment, it seemed the truth had finally surfaced—until the man suddenly raised a trembling hand and pointed in another direction. “But it wasn’t my idea! He made me do it! He’s the mastermind!”All eyes followed his finger and landed on Benjamin Winston.Ben, clutching his ribs in pain, still forced himself to stand tall, his voice rising defiantly. “Nonsense! You can’t just spout accusations like that! You can twist the story all you want, but don’t think I’ll sit here and take it!”Greg sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. “Oh, you’re one to talk. Since when have you ever told the tr
Dean froze for a moment, then gave a small nod, though a deeper storm raged in his heart. He couldn’t deny it—Greg was terrifyingly formidable. His every movement exuded authority, and with just a few words, he could break a person’s will completely. Watching him, Dean couldn’t help but sigh inwardly. This heir to the underworld was far from ordinary—he was a born predator.The tension in the hall thickened like smoke, suffocating and inescapable. Greg’s voice, calm yet commanding, cut through the heavy silence. Sitting with one leg crossed over the other, he looked every bit like a judge presiding over a grim trial. His words carried an air of finality."That’s enough for now," he declared, eyes sweeping over the room. "Now, let’s move on… to the matter of my Aunty Jane."The moment he spoke her name, a chill ran through the room like an icy draft. Ben, still writhing on the floor, weakly lifted his head, his voice barely a croak. "W-What…?"Greg’s gaze dropped lazily to Ben, but his