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

Chapter 115: Chapter 115: The Final Night

"Are you sure everything will be fine in the next world?"

[Rest assured, I have already contacted the plot system, and they lent us their mission-building system. Naturally, all missions will be adjusted to better suit our own system.]

"Why didn’t you just throw me into the plot system from the beginning to save me the trouble?"

[Are you certain that if you went over there, you would actually follow the plot?]

Lucien... Lucien could only remain silent, as this was something he could not refute. With his personality, being thrown into those wealthy family tropes and dog-blood dramas he often read, only to be forced to grit his teeth and swallow humiliation... Lucien simply could not do it.

He would probably cough up blood and die of sheer frustration long before completing any mission.

[Alright, I wish the host... a highly successful completion of the final mission in this world.]

...

The next morning, Lucien woke up very early. He went into the kitchen and cooked a lavish breakfast, or rather, lavish within the limits of his abilities. During this period, thanks to the system’s cheating, Lucien had gradually become capable of making a few decent dishes, such as sunny-side-up eggs, garlic butter toast, a fruit salad, and a warm pot of ginger tea. Dominic Vance came downstairs and was quite surprised to see this scene.

Recently, Lucien had been waking up rather late; it seemed like it had been a whole week since he last saw Lucien up this early. The man could not help but observe Lucien’s complexion for a moment: "Why are you up so early? Is everything alright with your body?"

Lucien broke into a smile and shook his head: "I am perfectly fine. I just suddenly remembered that I haven’t cooked breakfast for you in a long time, so I woke up a bit earlier. Come on, I only made a few simple dishes today, give them a try."

Dominic Vance cast a glance at Lucien, and then he sat down. Lucien sat down opposite Dominic, saying nothing but simply resting his chin on his hands, quietly watching the person in front of him. Seeing this, Dominic Vance could not help but ask: "Why aren’t you eating?"

"I have already eaten, you go ahead and eat."

In truth, he could not stomach any food, as the rejection symptoms were gradually affecting his entire body. His stomach felt as though someone was squeezing it tightly; every time he swallowed anything, it would spasm, leaving him on the verge of nausea. However, watching the man in front of him eat with such a hearty appetite, Lucien suddenly felt his heart soften.

Actually... back when he was in the real world, he would occasionally think about his future. Even though both of his legs were paralyzed, it had never been a barrier preventing the beautiful vision that Lucien had built for himself. He had also determined his own sexual orientation from a very early age.

Back then, Lucien used to read a lot of novels, often imagining that he would meet a certain man, someone who would make him fall wholeheartedly in love. Naturally, that person would also love him profoundly in return, and then the two of them would live very happily together.

That kind of life would perhaps be exactly like the present. In the mornings, they would gather together, and when night fell, they would share the same bed.

It was truly a pity, for Lucien still did not know whether that future would ever have a chance to become a reality. It was just that right now, Lucien could not even guarantee his own life, let alone anything else.

That day, Dominic Vance left for work much later than usual. He lingered around the house, doing meaningless tasks such as double-checking the window locks, and asking if Lucien needed anything bought. It was not until he absolutely could not delay any further that he finally grabbed his briefcase and headed out to the car. Before leaving, he turned back to look at Lucien, who was standing by the door: "I will be home early this afternoon."

"Yes. I will wait for you."

For the entirety of that day, Lucien dedicated his time to tidying everything up. He folded the clothes, reorganized the closet, wrote a short letter, and then hid it securely beneath his stack of sweaters. Lucien understood best that the event following his departure would be the most crucial one, ensuring that even if Dominic Vance went entirely mad, Dominic would still be kept within the parameters that maintained the established setting of this world. That was exactly why he wanted to leave a letter behind, treating it as a way to settle everything properly.

In the afternoon, Dominic Vance did indeed return earlier than usual, carrying a shopping bag in his hand. Lucien asked out of curiosity: "What is that?"

"Chicken soup, my mother sent it."

In reality, his mother did not send it. He had bought it himself at a familiar restaurant, but he simply did not want to state it directly. He went into the kitchen, heated up the soup, and ladled it out into two bowls. Lucien sat down and took a sip from his spoon.

It was genuinely delicious; the broth was refreshingly sweet yet rich, and the chicken meat was tender but not mushy. Lucien managed to eat a little less than half a bowl, which could be considered the largest portion he had consumed over the past few departing days.

When evening came, after finishing the cleaning up, Lucien went upstairs to the bathroom. He soaked himself in the warm water for a very long time, allowing the steam to soothe those dull, lingering aches. He wore a set of thin black silk pajamas, the very set that Dominic Vance once said suited him perfectly, though he rarely wore it because he found it to be slightly too provocative. Today was different; he wanted absolutely everything to be flawless.

The door to Dominic Vance’s room was slightly ajar. He was sitting on the bed, reading something on his phone. Lucien just pushed the door open and walked right in without even bothering to knock. The man seemed quite surprised as well; he lifted his head, his finger that had been scrolling across the phone screen suddenly coming to a halt. Lucien could intimately feel the man’s burning gaze sweeping over his body, piercing through the thin fabric that hugged his slender curves, before finally resting upon his face, which was slightly flushed from the warm steam.

"Can I sleep here tonight?" Lucien’s voice was incredibly soft, as if carrying a trace of shyness.

Dominic Vance did not reply immediately; he placed his phone down, stood up, and took a few steps closer to Lucien.

Finally, the man stopped right in front of Lucien: "Why aren’t you sleeping in the large bedroom over there? Why come over here and squeeze in with me?"

"You haven’t slept with me for the past few days."

"Lucien, your body is currently not well!"

Dominic Vance’s tone when speaking that sentence sounded as if he was desperately trying to suppress something deep within his heart. He stood tall and imposing in front of Lucien, his gaze darkening as he looked down at Lucien from above, seemingly wanting to use his height and cold demeanor to intimidate Lucien into returning to his room. But Lucien did not take a single step back.

He tilted his face upward, blinked his eyes very slowly, and then curled his lips into a smile. It was a smile that was half-weary and half-defiant, his lower lip slightly pursed as if concealing a sense of hidden grievance.

"Do you not want to?" His voice was as light as air, akin to a soft feather brushing against bare skin.

Dominic Vance gave no answer. He remained standing completely still, yet his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. Lucien naturally caught sight of that subtle expression of his; he took another step forward, the distance between the two of them now reduced to merely a handspan. The faintly sweet scent of body wash emanating from his person drifted into the air, mingling with the lingering warmth that remained after his bath.

"My body is not well, which is exactly why I need you," Lucien spoke, lifting his right hand until his fingertips lightly brushed against a button on the dress shirt covering Dominic’s chest: "I need you to hold me. I need you to touch me. I need you to make me forget about all of those ridiculous pains. Is that okay?"

He caught Lucien’s wrist, his large hand completely enveloping the frail, bony wrist: "Stop joking around."

"I am not joking." Lucien stood on his tiptoes, his face now only a few centimeters away from Dominic’s. His breath puffed against the man’s chin, searingly hot: "Or could it be that you are afraid? Afraid that I am far too weak, that I will not be able to endure it?"

A spark of fire suddenly flared within the depths of Dominic Vance’s eyes. He was not the type of person who enjoyed being provoked, but neither was he the type of person who would easily pass up such a blatantly clear invitation. In a split second, the hand that had been holding Lucien’s wrist moved, pulling Lucien flush against his own body, while his other arm wrapped around to grip his waist, pressing him down firmly. Lucien was forcefully pressed against that solid chest, clearly feeling every powerful beat of the man’s heart pounding through the layers of fabric.

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