MMPS Ch. 41

Content Warning: Tentacles (?)

Chapter 41: Taking off the Gloves

Zhao Ran rose abruptly, lifting Yu An by his thighs as if he weighed nothing. Without a word, he carried him to the bedroom. As they crossed the threshold, Zhao Ran reached up and switched off the overhead light, letting darkness flood the space.

But Yu An’s hand shot out, flipping the light back on with a sharp click.

“Don’t make a fuss.”

“Why not?” Yu An countered, his gaze steady and unyielding. “Are you embarrassed? Or do you just not want to look at my face?”

He tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes searching Zhao Ran’s with unnerving intensity, as if he could peer into the depths of his soul, trying to see whether his reflection in those pale, glassy pupils was his own or someone else’s.

Zhao Ran’s pupils were so light and transparent that even the images reflected in them appeared blurred and indistinct.

After a moment’s silence, Yu An relented with a faint smirk, reaching up to turn the light off again. He leaned forward, pressing his cool cheek against Zhao Ran’s fevered skin. In the consuming blackness, Yu An let out a quiet laugh. “I don’t care.”

“Nonsense.” Zhao Ran sighed, his reluctance palpable. His hand found the switch, flooding the room with light once more. Beneath its glow, the deep crimson of his eyes started fading away, the strands of his hair paling at the roots as if drained of color.

Zhao Ran sat down on the edge of the bed, leaning back against the headboard with Yu An still in his arms. But Yu An, impatient and restless, reached for Zhao Ran’s right hand, tugging at the glove with his teeth, eager to strip it away.

“What’s the rush?” Zhao Ran murmured, his left hand slipping beneath Yu An’s shirt, his fingertips brushing the small of his back.

The glove finally came off, revealing a hand unnaturally pale, its fingers long and elegant, each joint flawless. The skin was smooth, almost eerily so, like porcelain untouched by the sun.

Yu An studied the hand intently, pressing his smaller one against it. His fingers were shorter, his palm noticeably smaller.

“Why do you always wear gloves? Can’t you just take them off when you’re home?”

“Because…” Zhao Ran hesitated, distracted by the warmth of Yu An’s palm against his own. “It’s dirty. At home, I might touch you.”

“You think I’m dirty?” Yu An frowned, his voice cold.

No.

That wasn’t what he meant.

“Fine.” Yu An’s lips curved into a mischievous smile. He laced his fingers through Zhao Ran’s, locking them tightly together. There was a glint of destructive delight in his eyes.

Before Zhao Ran could pull away, Yu An leaned down and licked his fingertip. The reaction was instant—red bloomed from the spot, spreading upward like a flame catching dry wood.

A choked sound escaped Zhao Ran’s throat, his jaw clenching as he tried to suppress it. But the effort was futile. The tips of his fingers trembled, small slits appearing as if the skin itself had cracked. From those openings, fine, pink tendrils unfurled, stretching into the air like living wires.

The tendrils writhed, pulsing with an unnatural rhythm. At their tips, translucent sacs formed, glistening faintly under the light. They began secreting a viscous protein, each sac threatening to rupture and release its sticky contents.

Yu An froze, his eyes wide with shock. He stared at the strange, glowing tendrils as if caught in a trance.

“…Don’t be afraid.” Zhao Ran said, pulling his hand back sharply and placing it far from Yu An, as though distancing him from the grotesque appendages.

“You’re mutated.” Yu An whispered, his voice trembling, yet filled with curiosity. “Like the Huo Yangui—his Aberrant Core changed his form. Is it the same for you?”

Zhao Ran hesitated before giving a soft “Mm,” choosing to lean into the excuse Yu An had provided, dismissing the matter as if it were of no consequence.

“Were you always this fearless?” Zhao Ran suddenly moved, pinning Yu An beneath him in one fluid motion. His gaze was sharp, predatory. “Even now, you’re not scared?”

…

At first, Yu An enjoyed himself, unperturbed and confident. But as time passed, his arms tightened around Zhao Ran’s neck, his grip growing desperate. His voice trembled, laced with a faint sob.

Those invasive tendrils were terrifying, coiling and piercing with relentless force, all while releasing strange, volatile substances that burned with intensity.

“Stop… Interviewer, it hurts. My stomach—it hurts. Let me go.”

“What did you call me?” Zhao Ran asked, his voice deceptively calm.

“R-Ran-ge…”

“You messed with the equipment earlier. Was it on purpose?”

“…” 

“Was it on purpose?”

“Yes,” Yu An admitted softly. “I wanted you to come back sooner.”

The unexpected answer made Zhao Ran chuckle under his breath, a sound low and pleased.

The harsh light above them buzzed faintly, making Zhao Ran squint. In the shadows, he could see Yu An’s face more clearly, every subtle tremor, every crack in his façade.

Tears clung to the tip of Yu An’s nose, and the cold, mischievous smirk he wore so often had crumbled, replaced by a broken expression.

“All right.” Zhao Ran murmured, his tone gentler now. He patted Yu An’s back lightly. “I’m done. Poor thing.”

Yu An shuddered, his rigid body finally going slack. He slumped into Zhao Ran’s arms, utterly spent.

Zhao Ran reached out to turn off the light, enveloping them in darkness. His fingers, still tinged with traces of blood, retracted their tendrils. The eerie, invasive appendages shrank back, sated, disappearing into the safety of his fingertips.

Where Yu An couldn’t see, a twisted sun-like totem of entangled arms surfaced on Zhao Ran’s back. It glowed faintly, the intricate lines sharper and more vivid than before.

The silence stretched between them, long and heavy. Yu An, though exhausted, did not fall asleep. Instead, his voice broke the quiet, soft and distant.

“Ran-ge… I’ve forgotten where I came from.”

Fragmented memories clouded his thoughts, creating a disjointed understanding of the world.

“And I’ve forgotten why I’m alive. It’s like my body is pushing me toward you, forcing me to uncover your secrets.”

“You keep telling me to behave.” Yu An continued, his voice laced with confusion. “But I don’t get it. Why not find someone obedient? Didn’t you pick me because you like people who aren’t?”

Zhao Ran sighed, his expression unreadable in the dark. “I placed my hopes on you. You’re my… intern. Of course, I want the best for you.”

When it came to disobedience, Zhao Ran had already tested the limits. He had already seen what Yu An could become when left unchecked. Ruthless measures to strengthen him, endless battles in the illusion chambers—Yu An had thrived in the violence. To his surprise, he had fallen in love with that violent place, often sneaking off to wander there. He had embraced it, his bloodlust seeping into every inch of him.

Even at his young age, he terrified everything and everyone around him.

Someone like him was already dangerous. If he ever gained control of a powerful Aberrant to command and run amok, he would become unstoppable—a storm that could level cities. It wouldn’t be long before he drew the world’s ire.

But even storms have their limits. In this world of formidable warriors and terrifying weapons, if the full might of the world turned against him, Yu An would be destroyed, reduced to nothing.

Zhao Ran had once experimented with the other extreme—complete, unflinching obedience. The kind of compliance that was almost pitiful. He went to school without protest, polite and meek, like a loyal dog waiting for approval. 

In his free time, he would retreat to small, dimly lit rooms, quietly immersed in calibrating instruments or losing himself in the artificial solace of games. 

But when the time came for confrontation, the façade crumbled. He’d stand there, knife trembling in his unsteady grip, his body shaking with fear, only to turn and flee at the first sign of danger.

“What do you want me to do?” Yu An’s voice broke the silence, eyes staying shut from exhaustion. 

“Train.” Zhao Ran replied, his voice low but resolute. “Become strong—strong enough to kill me if you have to.” His hand tightened around Yu An’s waist, sending a clear, deliberate message. “But don’t let yourself rot into someone who destroys everything in their wake, and don’t soften into something so fragile you shatter under the slightest pressure.”

“Okay…” Yu An murmured, his words slurred as he drifted between wakefulness and sleep, his head heavy against Zhao Ran’s chest.

“Good.”

“What…” Yu An echoed faintly, almost incoherent, before the edges of his lips twitched into a tired smirk. “What a perfect demand for a client…” he mumbled, his voice trailing off as exhaustion claimed him.