Becoming the Terminally-Ill Villain Who Torments His Disciples - Chapter 97.1
The news that Oscar could not remember Cielo spread in an instant.
People began approaching Oscar and asking, “Do you really not remember Lord Esteban?” while piling on all sorts of comments.
Starting from how the two of them were once master and disciple, to rumors that their relationship must have gone beyond that.
Oscar could understand their intentions—to help him recall by sharing what they knew.
But for some reason, every time a story from the past he didn’t know came out of their mouths, a strange sense of discomfort would rise in him.
“There’s no need to tell me any more.”
With that, Oscar drew a line between himself and the others, and tried to retrace his past alone in order to regain his memories.
Not all memories had vanished.
He still remembered what kind of childhood he had. He remembered the abuse from his parents, and how he was brought to the Imperial Palace after his healing ability manifested—every detail of it.
But everything that happened after that was gone, as if someone had intentionally erased it.
Why had his parents, who used to visit and make unreasonable demands, stopped coming to the palace?
How had he ended up cutting ties with them entirely?
He couldn’t even remember how he and Ryan had grown close enough to converse so familiarly.
It felt as if the links in the chain of memory had been severed.
“Was he someone that deeply involved in my life?”
As Oscar stroked his chin, he recalled the face of Cielo, who lay resting in the infirmary.
In the faint and foggy memories, the version of himself he saw had blindly chased after someone—someone whose face or name he didn’t even know.
As if that person had been his salvation.
“Was I… infatuated?”
After hesitating for a moment, Oscar left the palace halls and headed to the infirmary.
Cielo was still lying on the bed.
Oscar quietly approached and gazed at his face.
If not for the steady rise and fall of his chest, one could have easily mistaken him for dead—his face was that pale.
“What’s this, have you finally remembered?”
“……No.”
Oscar gave a short reply and looked at Cielo again.
He had thought the same thing on the first day he woke up—he had such a beautiful face.
If only he’d wake up already, even just once.
If they had a conversation, perhaps he could understand why he had once been so hopelessly attached to this man.
With that vague thought, Oscar reached out and gently brushed Cielo’s cheek.
“Why are you touching me like that? …It, it tickles!”
…Huh?
In that instant, a voice flashed across Oscar’s mind.
A slightly brusque, but affectionate voice.
“Oscar?”
“Ah, Oscar.”
“Oscar!”
As the voices calling his name resurfaced in his head, Oscar felt a rush of desire surge from deep within.
Feelings from a time he could no longer remember—a time when he had wanted to completely ruin this person.
He even remembered once considering breaking his legs so he couldn’t go to anyone else and locking him away in his arms forever.
“There’s no way I actually… did that…”
He quickly tried to deny those thoughts, but his tightening lower abdomen and the flood of inappropriate ideas filling his head made it impossible.
Still gazing at Cielo’s face, Oscar abruptly turned and left the room.
If he stayed any longer, he might actually pry open those firmly shut lips and slip a finger between them.
***
Oscar eventually stopped trying to recover his memories.
The more he searched for anything related to “Master” or “Cielo,” the more unbearable desires surged within him.
‘…Was I always this lacking in self-control?’
It was one thing to be disappointed in himself a few times, but it was absurd how just thinking of the man could make him so unbearably hard.
“Even after coming back to this room, I’m still like this…”
He had heard that Cielo and Oscar used to share a room.
Judging by how filled the room was with Cielo’s traces, that didn’t seem like a lie.
The scent that wafted through the air whenever he lay in bed, or the smell that rose when he opened the wardrobe—
Even the faint traces of acacia lingering here and there were driving Oscar insane.
“Should I request a different room…”
Muttering to himself, Oscar let out a dry sigh while feeling the usual enthusiasm in his lower body.
If they truly were master and disciple, had they led such a promiscuous sex life together?
If he was standing at attention every other day like this, then there was no way their relationship had been pure.
“This is driving me mad…”
Grumbling, Oscar got up and headed for the bathroom.
Even though he had exhausted himself sweating at the training grounds earlier, he ended up like this every time he returned to this room.
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