Becoming the Terminally-Ill Villain Who Torments His Disciples - Chapter 56.2
Cielo turned his head slightly to look at Ryan. Even in deep sleep, Ryan was holding him tightly.
‘Since he controlled his pheromones, it probably wasn’t that…’
Cielo narrowed his eyes as he stared at Ryan’s arm wrapped around his waist.
‘Ugh…’
It wasn’t even a rut cycle, yet Ryan had pushed him relentlessly, ignoring his pleas to stop. And even though Ryan hadn’t knotted him like Oscar had, he could still feel himself stretched open.
At least it wasn’t as much of a mess as last time. While Cielo had been unconscious, Ryan must have cleaned him up—his body was spotless, and he was even dressed.
He was grateful, but that didn’t erase his irritation. Cielo glared at Ryan and grumbled under his breath.
Just as he tried to shift his body, a sharp pain shot through his lower half, forcing a strained “Ngh—!” from his lips.
Instantly, Ryan’s eyes snapped open.
“Are you hurt?”
“Huh?”
“Is it your heart? Or are you feeling sick? You didn’t vomit blood, did you? Do you need medicine?”
Cielo’s eyes widened at the rapid-fire questions. Then, he reached up and pinched Ryan’s cheek hard.
“Yes, it hurts. It really hurts. My back and lower half feel like they’re on fire.”
Cielo pouted. If only Ryan had stopped when he’d told him to, it wouldn’t have been this bad.
“…Does it hurt that much?”
“I can’t even take a single step. No, I can’t even sit up. So you are carrying me back to the palace.”
“Of course. I’ll take care of you.”
Ryan chuckled and pulled Cielo closer. But worry flickered across his face as he rested a hand on Cielo’s chest.
“Your heart isn’t hurting, is it?”
“Mmm… No, it’s fine. Actually, breathing feels easier, and I feel better than usual.”
Ryan propped his chin on his hand, idly tracing Cielo’s lips. His fingers wandered—brushing his cheek, lips, the tip of his nose—as if just looking at him wasn’t enough. Then, slowly, he spoke.
“It’s strange.”
“What is?”
“Normally, people with weak hearts can’t handle this kind of thing. They’d struggle to breathe or be in pain the whole time.”
But throughout it all, Cielo had shown none of that. Instead, he’d looked relaxed, even comforted, whenever Ryan’s pheromones touched him.
“Maybe we should run more tests… Actually, I’ve never considered the correlation with pheromones before. Did exposure to mine during your heat cycle help? Or was it always…?”
Ryan muttered to himself, his expression serious.
As Cielo watched him, a memory surfaced.
“Come to think of it, when I was talking with Sol… I remembered something suspicious from the past.”
“…A past memory?”
Cielo nodded and recounted what he’d seen in the real Cielo’s memories.
Monsters, blood, contracts, and sacrifices.
Among the words the twins had exchanged, there had been talk of strain on the heart—aching limbs, a numb chest.
(He left out the part where they’d said it could kill him.)
As he explained, Ryan’s face hardened.
“Now that we know the cause, we can find a solution.”
At Cielo’s words, Ryan’s lips parted in shock.
For six years, he’d buried himself in books, desperate to find a way to fix Cielo’s heart—to keep him alive by any means.
But the answer had been somewhere else entirely.
If Cielo hadn’t remembered his past, Ryan might have wasted his life chasing the wrong cure, only to lose him in the end.
…It was pathetic.
“I’ve been no help to you—”
No help at all.
The moment that thought took root, the ground beneath his mind seemed to crumble.
“What kind of nonsense are you spouting all of a sudden?”
“……”
“The only reason I’m still alive is because of you, Ryan.”
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