Eric laid down on the makeshift bed, glaring up at his kidnapper. The man must have taken a bath because he returned to the tent wet and dripping. Without a care in the world, he quickly stripped off all his clothes and started drying himself.
Eric intently gazed at his body.
This man, General-something, looked ninety percent similar to Kai, but upon closer inspection, Eric could distinguish some differences. This man had a rogue, thug-like feel to him, while Kai was much more elegant and refined.
"Elegant and refined..." he narrowed his eyes. "Wait, there was once a time I feared him, and he was quite fearsome."
Eric buried his head into the bed, smelling the hay. he did not have time for these thoughts.
The man quickly changed into a white long shirt and went to his bed by the fireplace.
Eric gazed up. "Hello?" he intently glared his way.
The man questionably raised a brow.
"Aren’t you going to feed me? As a captor, aren’t you responsible for keeping your kidnapped person fed and well so that you can negotiate a better price?"
The man scoffed.
"Agh..." Eric realized he was not going to be fed. He simply lay down comfortably, his thoughts running wildly. "So, how can I escape this world? Should I just kill myself?" He gazed at the thick chains tying up his hands.
It would be very easy to strangle himself with them.
But there lied a problem.
"Would I go back to being a system after I kill myself? I’ve never tried that before..."
He sighed softly, peering up at the tent.
Suddenly, a bowl appeared in his sight.
Eric glared at the person holding it.
"Should I pour it down? It’s hot," the man said with a slight smirk.
Eric silently shot up and took the bowl from him. "You! You sadist! How can you have that face and treat me so rudely? Tsk."
A tantalizing smell of beef porridge wafted from the bowl. He licked his lips, gazing at the bubbling content. There was even a huge chunk of meat in it.
His stomach growled loudly at that moment.
In that silent tent, his growling stomach sounded even louder.
Embarrassed, Eric touched his belly. "Fuck, why am I this hungry? Did they not feed this guy’s body? He was a prince, yeah. How could he not have been fed?"
"Why do I care? All I need to do is regain my energy and get out of this place as soon as possible."
He quickly took the spoon and started eating the food.
Ryan watched the young prince chow down the food in a hurried yet elegant way. "Reports had been right. Their camp’s food reserves must have long run out. Even the prince himself had not eaten in a long time."
Even if they hadn’t won the recent battle, they would have still won over the young prince’s armies if they had waited it out and let them starve.
Ryan lay down on the bed, gazing at the softly crackling fireplace. Now it was a waiting game.
The young prince’s army would not rest for sure.
A rescue team would be sent out tonight.
All he had to do was wait and take them out.
Kill all hope so that they would give up their country with ease.
He did not wish for any more bloodshed.
Late Late at night, a faint rustling sound broke the eerie silence of the camp.
Ryan woke up silently, his hand instinctively gripping the sword lying beside him. His eyes flicked toward the tent flap, which swayed wildly with the wind. The faint whistle of the breeze made the entrance flutter, casting shifting shadows on the canvas walls.
He stood up stiffly, his body tense. Through the gap in the flap, he spotted dark shapes moving outside. They weren’t friendly. His warriors clashed with the intruders, swords clanging and muffled grunts blending with the rustling wind.
Ryan took a step toward the entrance, his instincts sharp, but a sudden warmth pressed against his back, freezing him in place.
"Kai?" a sleepy voice mumbled.
He stiffened, his breath catching in his throat.
The prince—Eric—had wrapped his arms around his waist, his face nuzzling against Ryan’s back. The warmth of his breath seeped through Ryan’s thin shirt, sending an unfamiliar jolt through his chest.
"Why are you up so late?" Eric muttered, his voice heavy with sleep.
Hearing that name—Kai—made Ryan’s heart lurch violently. He didn’t know why, but it struck a nerve deep inside him, one he didn’t want to acknowledge.
Soft, lazy hands caressed his waist, igniting a dangerous warmth that spread through his body.
No.
Ryan clenched his jaw, trying to suppress the heat pooling low in his abdomen. But his body betrayed him. His breath hitched as he felt himself harden. Panic seized him.
He couldn’t—wouldn’t—lose control.
With a sharp motion, he pushed Eric’s hands away.
The sudden rejection seemed to wake Eric fully. He blinked up at Ryan, his face a mix of confusion and hurt.
"What’s going on?" Eric asked, his voice still thick with sleep.
Ryan’s grip on his sword tightened. He couldn’t look at him—couldn’t let those wide, questioning eyes break his resolve.
"Stay in here and don’t go anywhere," he growled, his voice rough and strained.
Without waiting for a response, he stormed out of the tent, his heart hammering in his chest.
The cold night air bit at his skin, but it did nothing to extinguish the fire raging inside him. His breathing was uneven, and Eric’s touch still lingered on his body like a curse.
He couldn’t be near him. Not like that.
Focusing on the scene before him, Ryan forced the turmoil down. His warriors were locked in a fierce battle with the intruders. Steel clashed, and the stench of blood hung heavy in the air. A few bodies already lay motionless on the ground.
Ryan’s eyes darkened.
He had a job to do—and no time for weakness.