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

Chapter 62: Chapter 62: A Belated Embrace

Dominic Vance said nothing more. He just held Lucien like that, for a very long time, very tightly, as if wanting to use that embrace to make up for all the years when no one had been by the young man’s side.

The afternoon breeze blew across the balcony, carrying a few fallen petals from the coral vine on the wall. Lucien buried his face in Dominic’s chest, breathing in the familiar sandalwood scent on his shirt.

A fleeting sense of suffocation tightened within Lucien’s chest. This embrace was so warm, yet so incredibly meaningless. The original host was no longer here to receive it.

A moment later, Dominic Vance’s voice rang out, deeper and hoarser than usual: "During that time, where did you live?"

Lucien shifted slightly in his arms. He did not lift his head, merely whispering as if recounting a very old story, one so ancient that even the storyteller no longer felt the pain: "A cheap rented room, tucked away behind a small alley near the wholesale market. The walls were damp and mouldy, the winter wind would howl through the door cracks, and in the summer, it was as hot as an oven. But it was cheap, and that was the only way I could afford a place to stay."

Dominic Vance did not speak. His hand tightened around Lucien’s waist.

"Once, I caught a fever and lay alone for two days. I had no money for medicine, nor the strength to crawl out of bed to cook porridge. I really thought I was going to die there." Lucien gave a soft laugh, his voice flat as if telling someone else’s story: "Then I woke up again, I don’t know how, but I woke up. As humans, our deepest instinct is the desire to live."

He paused for a moment, then added, his tone as weightless as a wisp of smoke: "Another time, I nearly fainted on the street, right in front of a pastry shop. I stood there looking inside, watching people buy birthday cakes. I suddenly remembered that it had been a very long time since anyone bought a birthday cake for me."

Dominic Vance’s complexion had become exceedingly grim. He said nothing, but his breathing grew heavy, his chest heaving as if suppressing something immense. He bowed his head, pressed his lips to the crown of Lucien’s head, and remained exactly like that, motionless.

Lucien let Dominic hold him. He closed his eyes, rested against the man’s shoulder, and thought to himself: Original host, do you see? Someone is finally embracing you. It is just a pity that it is a little too late.

Even though Lucien personally believed that perhaps this embrace merely came from a momentary stir of emotion. This child was too pitiful, and he was also the first and only person so far who had let Dominic Vance taste worldly desires, so he was cherished by the man.

Ultimately, these were nothing more than fickle affections.

That evening, the entire villa was suddenly thrown into an uproar. The butler received a direct order from Dominic Vance, instructing him to clear all of Miles Sinclair’s belongings out of the house. Absolutely everything.

The clothes in the wardrobe, the shoes in the closet, the personal items in the bathroom, every photo frame on the shelves, and even the half-used bottles of perfume. Everything was packed, loaded into cardboard boxes, and moved straight out, completely erasing his traces from this villa.

Wearing an oversized nightshirt, Lucien leaned against the second-floor railing, quietly watching the stream of busy servants below. The corners of his lips curled up slightly, but quickly dropped back down.

It seemed his pitiful display in the afternoon had touched that man’s heart. Lucien knew very well that Dominic Vance was no fool. Although on the surface he kept saying the Sinclair family was clinging to his family, a commercial marriage obviously could not be changed on a whim.

Dominic Vance knew full well that the bullies who tormented Lucien Sinclair were secretly instigated by Miles Sinclair, but look at the punishment this morning? It targeted everyone who caused trouble, yet made no mention of Lucien Sinclair at all.

It was just that... men were men, and sometimes it was quite normal for a few pitiful stories to spark a sense of guilt. Lucien smirked, highly amused as he watched the scene below. He thought it was fortunate he was not Miles Sinclair, otherwise, witnessing this scene would be humiliating enough to make one cry.

However, outwardly, when Dominic Vance stepped onto the staircase, Lucien instantly retracted his expression of watching a good show. He widened his eyes, looking at Dominic with the flustered panic of a frightened little rabbit: "Dominic... is it really alright to do this? No matter what, he is still..."

"I do not like having an outsider’s belongings in my home." Dominic Vance interrupted, his voice as nonchalant as if discussing the weather. He reached out and grabbed Lucien’s wrist, pulling him away from the railing: "You don’t need to concern yourself with this either. Come in here with me."

Lucien let the man lead him away, mentally shrugging his shoulders. Fine, it was not his stuff anyway.

Dominic Vance guided him into his private dressing room.

It was a room twice the size of a normal bedroom. Transparent glass cabinets spanned all four walls, with warm yellow lighting illuminating the hand-tailored suits and shirts neatly arranged by colour palette. Yet, the thing that caught Lucien’s eye was the cluster of brand-new shopping bags placed neatly on the leather sofa in the middle of the room. The wrapping paper was still intact, the logos of luxury fashion houses standing out prominently beneath the lights.

Dominic Vance sank into the sofa, resting both arms on the backrest with his legs crossed. He tipped his chin towards the bags: "Try them on. I bought these the other day but haven’t had the time to show them to you."

Lucien blinked. He glanced at the bags, then at the man sitting like an emperor on the sofa. Aha, so this was the classic scene of a domineering CEO’s kept little wife, given an endless supply of silken clothes to wear?

Even though Lucien was no stranger to such outfits, he still obediently bent down and opened the first bag.

The first piece was a sheer cream-coloured silk shirt, its fabric as soft as water, slipping over his fingertips like mist. The collar was cut deep in an Oriental style, bordered by a delicate lace trim. Beneath it were trousers of the same tone, tailored to tightly hug the waist and thighs, yet flaring out from the knees down, creating soft folds of fabric with every movement.

Lucien stood in front of the mirror, slowly taking off his nightshirt. He could feel Dominic Vance’s gaze glued to his back, as scorching as a streak of fire. The side effects of the system began to take hold again, causing his fingertips to tremble. It took him quite a while to fasten all the buttons.

Damn it, didn’t System 000 say the side effects would only last for three days? Why were they still persisting now???

"Come here."

Lucien turned around, stepping closer to the sofa. Dominic Vance reached out, grabbed the hem of his shirt, and gave it a light tug. Losing his balance, Lucien stumbled and fell into the man’s lap. The man’s hand rested on his waist, fingers lightly brushing over the sheer silk. Then Dominic bowed his head, placing a kiss on the collarbone exposed beneath the plunging neckline.

"This outfit is fine." He said, his voice deep and husky: "But don’t fasten all the buttons. Leave the top two undone."

His fingers slowly unfastened each of the newly secured buttons. The silk shirt slipped down, revealing the faint hickeys from the previous night on his pale, flawless skin. He admired the view for a moment, then nodded in satisfaction: "Yes, it is much more pleasing to the eye like this."

Lucien bit his lip, his face flushing crimson. In his heart, he silently cursed this pervert a hundred times, but his body refused to obey. The side effects turned his waist to jelly and his legs trembled, forcing him to grip the man’s shoulders just to stay steady.

"Change into another one." Dominic Vance released him, leaning back against the sofa with an unruffled expression: "I want to see that blue outfit."

Lucien took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure. He returned to the shopping bags and pulled out the second set. It was a dark blue silk shirt, the fabric faintly glossy, with long and wide sleeves, cinched at the waist with a matching silk ribbon. The collar featured a deep V-neck, almost reaching his sternum. Beneath it were form-fitting trousers that accentuated every curve of his hips and thighs.

As soon as Lucien finished changing, before he could even turn around, an arm forcefully yanked him backward. He fell back into a seated position on Dominic Vance’s lap, his back pressed against the man’s solid chest. Dominic wrapped his arms around Lucien’s waist, resting his chin on his shoulder, and together they looked into the mirror.

"Look. Utterly beautiful."

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