The Saint Wants to Rest - Chapter 80.1
Ian rested his chin on his hand and looked down. Every time he saw Vladimir’s sticky gaze fixated on Vermouth El Di Loxtian in the training area, his peaceful composure felt like it was twisting bit by bit.
It felt as if an unpleasant foreign substance had wedged itself in.
“Why is he looking at him with such desperate eyes?”
Ian set down the tea he was drinking and approached the railing. Then, he gestured toward Vermouth, who was standing in the center of the parade ground.
*Come here.*
It was a short, indifferent motion. However, Vermouth noticed that small movement with uncanny precision. It was only natural, as he had all his nerves focused solely on Ian from the moment he drew breath until the moment he fell asleep.
“Everyone, take a 10-minute break.”
Vermouth gave a short command. At the same moment the trainees collapsed onto the floor with deathly groans, he leaped toward the second floor spectator seats.
As if he felt no need to use the stairs, he landed lightly beside Ian with a single leap.
“Did you call for me, Ian?”
Vermouth knelt on one knee a step in front of Ian and bowed his head. Ian’s head felt dizzy from the sudden waft of hot body heat and the faint scent of sweat rising from the intensity of the training.
Ian picked up a clean towel he had prepared on the table beforehand. Then, with slow movements, he began to wipe the sweat beads forming on Vermouth’s forehead. Every time his careful touch reached him, Vermouth’s shoulders twitched minutely.
He seemed unfamiliar with the gesture, as it was something Ian did not usually do.
Ian withdrew the towel and lightly brushed the tips of his fingers against the corners of Vermouth’s eyes. Then, while subtly meeting the gaze of Vladimir, who had jumped up from his seated position on the first floor, he spoke to Vermouth.
“Vermouth.”
“Yes, Ian.”
“It seems someone downstairs is feeling quite desperate.”
It was a probe mixed with a subtle pout. However, the moment he grasped the intent of the question, Vermouth’s brow furrowed fiercely. He let out a low growl like a man who had been dealt a truly horrific insult.
“Just having that bastard’s silver head caught in my vision makes me want to wash my eyeballs out immediately. If you wish, I will go down right now and bring you his head.”
It was a chilling answer dripping with bloodlust. However, knowing that such hostility stemmed solely from a heart dedicated to him, Ian burst into laughter. His twisted internal state became comfortable in an instant.
“Kill him for what? Leave him be.”
Ian lightly cupped Vermouth’s cheek and entwined their gazes.
“And from now on, look only at me.”
“Ian.”
“No matter how anyone else looks at you, don’t even give them a glance. Understood?”
The soft warning contained a thick sense of possessiveness.
However, once he actually spat those words out of his own mouth, a delayed wave of embarrassment washed over him. To think he was doing things he hadn’t even done in Lancia. It was even more so because he knew this emotion was jealousy.
The rims of Ian’s ears quickly heated up to a peachy red. He feigned a dry cough and avoided Vermouth’s gaze. Then, he hurriedly picked up the tea sitting on the table and acted busy.
“Ahem, you understood what I meant, right? Hurry back down and finish the rest of the training.”
Unlike his usual self, Ian’s stuttering voice held a small tremor. The reddened ears, the wavering gaze, and the clumsy yet lovely jealousy that sought to monopolize him.
Fireworks exploded inside Vermouth’s head. A tingling ecstasy that felt like it would paralyze his reason raced down his spine. If it was Ian’s restraint, he welcomed anything. He wouldn’t mind even if he choked to death from it.
“I will keep it in mind.”
Unable to suppress the impulse, Vermouth gently wrapped his hand around Ian’s thin wrist as he avoided his gaze and pulled it toward him.
*Chuu.*
Vermouth’s hot lips touched the inside of the white wrist where the pulse throbbed, lingering deeply before pulling away.
“Your knight has been no different from a blind man who can see nothing but you for a very long time.”
Heat soaked amethyst eyes looked straight up at Ian. In that gaze, there wasn’t even a speck of dust’s worth of room for the uninvited guest on the first floor, who was likely watching this scene with clenched fists.
To Vermouth, Ian was the world itself.
At that overwhelming affection, Ian let out a small sigh and brushed a hand over his reddened face.
‘I lost, I lost.’
He couldn’t win. In many ways.
It was in that moment, while a strangely ticklish silence lingered between the two.
Vladimir, who had been watching the entire scene from the first floor, quietly slipped out of the gym.
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