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

Chapter 69: Chapter 69: A Flawless Act

That entire day, Lucien stayed in his room, not even stepping out for lunch. It seemed Dominic Vance had matters to attend to at the company, having left and not returning even by noon. Lucien did not care much, taking advantage of the madman’s absence to catch up on his sleep.

Unfortunately, while Lucien was at ease, Dominic frowned upon receiving the report from the servants, dialing Lucien’s number several times.

"Hello?" Lucien’s voice was a little deep, drowsy from having just woken up.

However, Dominic Vance mistakenly thought the youth was feeling down, leading the man to lower his own voice, slightly displeased: "Didn’t I tell you not to pay attention to those things? Go out and eat!"

Lucien guessed that the man must be facing some troubles at work, as Dominic was much more hot-tempered than usual. The youth pursed his lips, if an ordinary person were truly sad and heard Dominic’s tone, they would definitely feel so wronged that they would burst into tears.

This man clearly needed someone to teach him how to treat others with gentleness. After all, they had been intimately affectionate recently, yet he still used a tone that sounded like a superior barking orders.

Therefore, Lucien deliberately used an even lower voice, even pretending to sniffle: "...I am not really hungry..." Pausing for a moment, Lucien acted as if he were afraid of being scolded, softly adding: "Can I wait for you to come home so we can eat together?"

"I will not be back this noon." The man’s voice on the other end was still a bit fierce, but seemingly realizing he was being too harsh, Dominic tried to hold back: "I will come back and eat with you tonight, okay? If you do not like going out to eat, I will have someone bring the food to your room?"

"I have no appetite..."

"So you are just going to starve because you have no appetite?" Dominic had only softened his tone for a brief moment before flaring up again the second he heard Lucien’s reply.

His voice showed obvious impatience, and Lucien did not dare to dance on his bottom line any further. After all, at present, the youth was merely a tool to satisfy Dominic’s desires.

Thus, Lucien obediently murmured a yes, waiting for the other side to hang up the phone.

But he continued to lounge lazily on the bed, tossing the now-darkened phone to the side. Earlier, the man’s intimidating voice had startled him wide awake, but now that the call had ended, his body felt lethargic all over again.

Part of it was likely due to the physical reactions of this body, which inexplicably dragged his mood down quite a bit.

Lucien lay flat on his back, his mind beginning to wander aimlessly. According to the memories he had inherited, the Lucien Sinclair of this world was once a pampered child who believed the world was a gentle place. Only for it to shatter when he lost his mother and was shunned by his own biological father, leaving him completely clueless as to what he had done wrong. That sense of injustice and grievance had never truly subsided. Now, as the daggers of public opinion stabbed at him all at once, those feelings surged like an undercurrent, even though the soul of that pitiful child had already departed.

Yet the lingering pain continued to hover right there, causing Lucien’s chest to tighten with a stifled breath.

A knock echoed from outside, Lucien merely gave a grunt, allowing the maid to push the door open and enter. In her hands was a tray carrying steaming hot food: "Young Master Lucien, the master instructed me to bring this in for you. It is abalone and mantis shrimp porridge, all made with fresh seafood. The master also told me to ask you if there is anything specific you would like to eat this evening?"

Lucien wearily sat up, shaking his head: "Nothing in particular, you can just ask him, I have no preference."

Normally, Lucien would not let his mood deteriorate to this extent, but today he needed to play the part of a pitiful victim.

So Lucien just let himself lay listlessly on the bed.

By late at night, when the scene outside the window was nothing but a pitch-black canvas dotted with distant city lights, Lucien heard the bedroom door click open. The footsteps approaching the room seemed slightly more hurried than usual.

Dominic Vance had returned.

Lucien was sitting on the soft chair by the window, staring out into the night. One could not see the bustling night view of the city center from here, but there was still a steady flow of traffic passing by. Naturally, he knew Dominic had come back, but he deliberately refrained from turning around to look at the man.

Lucien sat there, hugging his knees with both arms, his soft hair drooping down to obscure almost his entire face. The phone rested on his lap, its screen lighting up again, pausing right on the morning post with the most venomous comments intentionally left visible.

The man stepped closer. He said nothing, merely bending down to gently slip the phone out of Lucien’s reach. His gaze swept across the screen, taking in the sensational headline, the doctored photos, and the barrage of comments spewing absolute garbage.

Lucien did not look up, yet he could feel the atmosphere in the room plummet abruptly. The temperature seemed to drop by several degrees, and Dominic’s hand gripped the phone so tightly that his knuckles turned completely white. His face darkened considerably, a chilling murderous aura slowly radiating from those deep, unfathomable eyes.

Perhaps sensing that the mood was ripe enough, Lucien finally lifted his head to look at the man. His eyes were red-rimmed, the whites heavily laced with bright crimson bloodshot streaks. His eyelashes were wet and glistening, looking as delicate as if they had just been kissed by a spring shower. His voice broke, coming out as tiny and fragile as a kitten abandoned in the cold night: "I am sorry..."

Lucien curled even deeper into himself, his shoulders trembling faintly. A teardrop rolled down his cheek, followed closely by another. He raised a hand to hastily wipe them away, but the tears just kept falling in a continuous stream, as if a dam that had broken long ago was finally getting the chance to overflow.

"I did not mean to..." He sobbed, his breathing ragged and uneven: "I just wanted to be with you... Why does everyone hate me so much? I did not do anything wrong..."

The last sentence choked up in his throat, dissolving into a tiny hiccup. Lucien buried his face into his knees, his entire body curling up tightly like a wounded little animal.

Dominic stood still for a moment, before finally letting out a long sigh, sitting down beside the beanbag chair and reaching out to pull that small, shivering figure right into his embrace. A large hand rested against his back, patting rhythmically as if coaxing a baby.

"Do not cry." His voice was deep and steady, devoid of the irritation he had shown at noon: "I am here."

Lucien did not answer, only burrowing deeper into those protective arms. He buried his face in the crook of the man’s neck, letting his tears soak through a patch of the crisp white shirt. His frail shoulders continued to shudder in waves, but behind that blurry veil of tears, in a place where no one could see, the corners of his lips curved upward in the faintest of smiles.

Dominic stroked the length of his spine, moving slowly and patiently as if comforting a young child. However, his eyes, as they swept over the glowing phone screen in the corner, were not gentle in the slightest. In the depths of those eyes, a storm was silently brewing, the kind of tempest that only those who had touched true power could ever conjure.

"Rest assured, I will handle this for you."

He said it as simply as if he were promising to retrieve a dropped toy. But Lucien knew that the word "handle" in Dominic’s dictionary was nowhere near as simple as the way he casually voiced it.

He kept sobbing, kept trembling, resembling a fragile white petal caught helplessly in a violent thunderstorm. But in his heart, he was quietly counting every single heartbeat of the man currently holding him.

Thump, thump, one beat at a time.

But it seemed to be beating faster than normal.

Are you heartbroken, are you angry, Dominic? If you are heartbroken, if you are angry over someone who is merely supposed to be a plaything... then you too have already begun sinking step by step into this mire.

In the dimness of the room, amidst the gradually subsiding hiccups, Lucien closed his eyes. He obediently allowed Dominic to hold him, obediently let the man’s warmth envelop him, acting as docile as a pitiful little lover with nowhere else to turn.

Only he himself knew that tonight, within that torrent of tears, an actor had just delivered the most magnificent performance of his life.

And the curtain for the next act had only just been raised.

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