The System Keeps Making Me Do Indecent Missions [BL, R18]

Chapter 108: Chapter 108: A Crumbling Soul

Dominic Vance began coming home early. It was not just an hour early, but over three hours, some days, his car was already parked out front by three in the afternoon. His personal assistant’s face was constantly scrunched up like a monkey lately, as the meeting schedule was crammed into the morning, while in the afternoon, CEO Vance absolutely refused to accept any appointments past three o’clock.

He did not state the reason, and perhaps he himself did not clearly know. It was just that for the past few days, whenever the afternoon approached, he found himself entirely restless. He would check the clock several times, and seeing that the hands had not yet passed four, he would already start packing up his belongings. There was a time during a meeting when he tapped his fingers continuously on the table, to the point that the sales director thought he had said something wrong and turned pale.

Upon returning home, he did not enter the study as before, but went straight to the small east living room, where there were large glass doors overlooking the garden. Lucien would often sit there, either doodling or leaning against the sofa, nodding off to sleep. During the first few days of his fever, he obediently lay in bed. Once the fever subsided, he crept downstairs again, refusing to stay put.

Today was no different.

The moment Dominic Vance walked in, he saw Lucien curled up on the sofa, his head resting on the armrest, his hand still holding a sketchbook. His fingers were smudged with lead and colors, covered in patches of blue and red. The afternoon sun shone through the glass doors, casting a pale golden layer over him. Dominic Vance stood at the door, unbuttoning his vest, and did not wake him. He simply walked over, picked up the thin blanket that had fallen on the floor, and draped it over Lucien’s legs. The movement was exceptionally gentle, but Lucien still opened his eyes.

"You are home." His voice was still sleepy, but his eyes had brightened.

"Yes." Dominic Vance picked up the sketchbook to take a look. It was full of random things: a round cat, a tree, some formless flowers. But in the lower corner, there was a more serious drawing, a portrait of a man, the strokes were still clumsy, but the eyes were drawn with immense care. Deep eyes, thick eyebrows, one look and it was clear exactly who it was.

Dominic Vance stopped at that page, saying nothing.

Lucien clumsily sat up, and seeing that Dominic was looking, his face flushed slightly, reaching out to snatch it back: "I was just drawing nonsense...".

He raised it a bit higher, reading the small text below: "Dominic reading a book." He raised an eyebrow: "When have I ever read a book in front of you?".

Lucien lowered his head, mumbling: "You did... before, when you were sitting in the study, I saw you as I walked by.".

Dominic Vance did not remember, but he did not ask any further. He closed the sketchbook, placed it on the table, and turned to look at Lucien. Lucien’s complexion was still a bit pale, even though his fever had been gone for a few days. He had grown thinner, with faint dark circles under his eyes, making Dominic Vance frown: "Did you eat anything for lunch?".

"I did. I finished a bowl of porridge."

"Then why is your face still as pale as a leaf?"

Lucien smiled slightly, rubbing his face: "It is probably just because I have not had enough sleep.".

Dominic Vance did not believe it, but he did not interrogate him further. The doctor said his constitution was weak and needed rest, so he only needed to ensure Lucien ate enough and took his medicine on time. But it seemed Lucien’s health was not improving in the slightest. One day, he caught Lucien standing by the sink, gripping the edges with both hands, panting heavily. When asked, he said he was just a little dizzy. Dominic Vance told him to go to the hospital for a check-up, but Lucien shook his head vehemently, saying he hated hospitals.

"Tomorrow you will eat more eggs and milk." Dominic Vance said, sounding much like an order. Then he took a small paper bag from his briefcase and placed it on the coffee table. "Apple pie, from a newly opened bakery below the company. Try it and see if it is good."

Lucien blankly looked at the pastry bag, then looked at him, blinking his eyes.

Dominic Vance did not explain anything further. He walked towards the stairs, saying as he went: "I am going up to change first."

Only when he disappeared behind the stairs did Lucien open the pastry bag. Inside was a small apple pie, round, not shaped like a heart as he used to make. But the taste was very good, with just the right amount of sweetness. He chewed slowly, smiling as he chewed, smiling to the point that the corners of his eyes grew moist. He hurriedly wiped the tears away with his hand, and then felt a wave of dizziness again. This dizziness came on suddenly, making his head spin and his chest feel tight and suffocated. He clutched his chest, trying to breathe, waiting a few seconds for the dizzy spell to finally pass. By the time he let go, sweat had already beaded heavily on his forehead.

A soft "ding" echoed in his mind, and the electronic voice of 000 rang out: [Warning: The host’s soul fusion index with the world has dropped to forty-seven percent. It is recommended to accelerate the progress of the main quest.]

Lucien wiped his sweat, muttering under his breath: "I know.".

[Target’s affection progress: sixty-two percent. Seventy-five percent is required to unlock the route’s ending. The host should consider methods to create conflict.]

"Do not push me, I know what to do."

The system fell dead silent.

Lucien folded the pastry bag, carefully placing it on the shelf as if guarding a precious artifact. Then he stood up, intending to go wash his face, when a loud commotion echoed from outside the gate. The sound of car horns, the sound of people shouting. Then a hoarse man’s voice roared, tearing through the wind: "Lucien Sinclair! Come out here right now! You robbed me of everything, and now you are hiding in this house living comfortably, huh? Come out!".

That voice, although hoarse and slurred from drunkenness, Lucien recognized immediately. It was Miles Sinclair, his precious younger brother.

He stepped out the door, where two bodyguards were already standing in the front yard, blocking a young man with disheveled hair, a crumpled shirt, and a face flushed red from alcohol. Miles Sinclair stumbled, clinging to the iron bars, crying and laughing at the same time, his face an absolute mess of tears and snot.

"Lucien Sinclair! You... you are a thief! I was clearly the one chosen in the first place! Why did you take my place? You have it so good now, playing the madam of the Vance family, while I got kicked out of the Sinclair household! My whole life is ruined! Do you know that? Ruined!".

Lucien stopped about three meters away from Miles.

"Do you... do you know how I have been living?" Miles Sinclair pointed his finger at Lucien’s face, his fingertips trembling violently: "Every day I live in regret... I should not have left back then... but it is too late now... You... you will not know peace, Lucien Sinclair! I will not let you be!".

Lucien waited for Miles to finish speaking before gently asking: "Are you done?".

Miles Sinclair froze, staring at Lucien intently.

"You have brought this suffering upon yourself." Lucien said, his voice entirely devoid of sarcasm or triumph: "I do not need to take revenge on you. I just need to live my own life well; that is already the greatest revenge.".

Miles Sinclair’s jaw dropped. As if something was caught in his throat, he stammered for a few seconds without forming words. Then, like a wounded beast, he roared and lunged toward Lucien. The two bodyguards immediately clamped down on both sides, pinning Miles down.

"You will pay for this!" Miles Sinclair hissed before being dragged to the car: "Lucien Sinclair, you will pay! Who do you think you are? A fake! A thief!".

The screams faded into the distance, then vanished completely following the sound of the car door shutting. The black car disappeared behind the slope, leaving the courtyard eerily silent.

Lucien stood still for a long time. The afternoon breeze blew past, carrying the scent of wildflowers from the fence. He reached up to clutch his chest, coughing dryly a few times, but the coughing fit dragged on relentlessly, causing his entire body to double over. He hurriedly pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to cover his mouth; when he pulled it away, the white fabric was stained with a few bright red spots, as small as flower petals.

He stared at it, his face devoid of any expression, and then he clenched the handkerchief tightly in the palm of his hand, turning back into the house. He walked straight into the bathroom, turned on the faucet, and ran the water forcefully over the cloth. The bloodstains diluted, dissolving into the water, and washed down the drain without leaving a single trace.

He rested his forehead against the mirror, his eyes gazing at his own reflection. A pale face, dry lips, and eyes that had long lost the sparkling vitality of youth.

"You will pay for this." Miles Sinclair’s voice still echoed faintly nearby, making Lucien let out a soft, humorless laugh.

The wicked one was that man, if a price had to be paid, that man would be the first to die.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!