Page 53 of Doubts of the Egoist (Egoist #3)
Yugo’s mind stalled . The pups kept barking, their thin voices fading into the background as the tranquil scene filled his head with heavy heartbeats—each like a headshot.
BANG. Swathed in an air of serenity, Kuon lay on his back on the bed, arms and legs spread, head turned slightly to the side.
BANG. The duvet covering his hips left most of his body exposed , tantalizing, beckoning to be ripped off.
BANG. Purple welts scattered across Kuon’s neck and chest stood out against his pale skin, telling a passionate tale of infidelity.
An incinerating fire spread in Yugo’s core. Flowing through his veins, it fermented his soul, poisoning it with acrid, toxic emotions he hadn’t known he possessed. Yet, his scruff stung as if exposed to dry ice.
I must be dreaming. Kuon wouldn’t dare.
He closed his eyes and opened them again, but the vision didn’t dissipate.
His mind, rationally cold moments before, began to thaw, melting away his control. His jaw clenched, and harsh breaths rushed through his nose. Pain from his cracked molar shot through his skull, extinguishing any hope that this was merely a nightmare.
KILL. KILL. KILL. His heart thundered, saturated with the need for vengeance. The fire in his chest reached a fever pitch, demanding bloodshed. On instinct, Yugo reached under his arm, but found no weapon.
However, that was no hindrance. His body charged with ominous energy, ready to become a lethal weapon.
Killing Kuon would be so easy. Yugo would grip that filthy throat and squeeze, squeeze, squeeze, feeling Kuon’s body thrash beneath him in its final agony.
Although Kuon’s first kiss had been stolen by someone else, Yugo would take his last one, along with his final breath.
The most intimate, special moment they could ever share would be forever engraved in Yugo’s memory.
It would be mutual. Fixated on Yugo, the soulful, dark eyes would glaze over, imprinting the portrait of his killer on Kuon’s retinas.
He would be the last thing Kuon saw, the last thing this body remembered. Wouldn’t that be satisfying?
Yugo wasn’t sure, as Kuon, dying covered in another man’s possessive marks, spoiled the fantasy. Before he could overcome his mental struggle, his body swayed forward, and he barked out an order, “Get up.”
A moan broke through Kuon’s lips. Such a soft, intimate sound had once belonged only to Yugo’s ears and bedroom.
Not anymore, I guess.
Yugo closed his eyes, trying to clear his throat of the boiling rage and rising bile. When he opened them again, his mind was calm.
The sense of vulnerability emanating from Kuon turned Yugo’s blood to sleet. His rage froze, sinking to absolute zero—the place where mercy died and only cold pragmatism remained, insisting that Kuon must pay. His skin tingled, his heart slowed, and reason won, forming a block of ice in his chest.
He rounded the bed, crumpled the duvet with a ruthless fist, and flung it aside. A snarl twisted his lips as he found no underwear beneath the cover.
Without thinking, he backhanded Kuon. The loud slap ricocheted off the walls. “I said, get up, whore.”
Kuon’s head snapped to the side. Brief pain echoed through his skull, melding into the heavy haze of sleep without fully registering.
Another blow followed closely. He groaned and propped himself up on one elbow with inhuman effort.
His neck refused to support his heavy head, allowing it to roll to the side.
A groan vibrated in his parched throat. He peeled open one eye, then the other.
The unfamiliar gray room spun, making him nauseous.
Trapped in the monochrome merry-go-round, Kuon dragged his gaze from right to left.
It didn’t stop the maddening spiral, but for a moment, the room seemed to reset.
Sour bitterness flooded his mouth, making his stomach churn. His body shook and felt broken in too many places, as if he had been drinking nonstop for a week or run over by a tractor. Not a single thought coursed through his buzzing head.
His heavy eyelids lowered a fraction. He needed sleep more than air, so it was hard to comprehend the scene before him.
A black figure in a gray room towered over him.
Kuon squinted up, meeting the same monochrome eyes.
Yugo said something, but Kuon didn’t understand a word.
His vision doubled and twisted. Everything felt surreal, as if a sphere of water surrounded him, separating him from the rest of the world.
Even the sounds reached him muffled, distorted, and stretched.
“W-what?” Kuon stuttered, feeling the word bubble up somewhere in his throat rather than hearing it.
Rage twisted Yugo’s expression, baring canine teeth. A vague, incomprehensible sense of foreboding brushed Kuon’s mind. His head rolled to the side as he scanned the room again, but nothing stirred recollection. “Ummm…”
He wanted to ask where they were, but his tongue felt stuck to the roof of his mouth. Unable to find a reason to stay awake, he lay back on the cold sheets, not understanding why Yugo refused to join him or what he wanted.
“Get up and get dressed.” The order drifted past him, never registering in Kuon’s consciousness.
WHACK. A stinging, humiliating slap landed across his face, sending hot blood rushing to his head.
Nursing his smarting cheek with a cold palm, Kuon scowled and glared at Yugo. “What the hell?”
“Two minutes, then we’re leaving, whether you’re dressed or not.”
Kuon sat up, followed Yugo’s gaze to his chest, and blinked.
He was naked and covered in kiss marks. The hickeys were everywhere—on his chest, stomach, and even on the crooks of his thighs where they met his groin.
He cringed at the shameless display and was about to open his mouth to blame Yugo, but froze as fragments of memory trickled in, filling his mind with cheek-searing images. I’ll be damned…
The thin hairs at the back of his neck bristled. He stole a cautious glance upward.
Yugo loomed over the low bed, eyes burning with arctic frost. Under his gaze, even the temperature in the room seemed to have dropped below freezing. Unconsciously, Kuon pulled at the corner of the duvet to cover his frigid shoulders.
The corners of his cruel, thin lips curled into a snarl as the Black Duke snatched the duvet from Kuon’s hands and tossed it aside.
“Don’t you dare cover up. If you do, I’ll think you’re ashamed of these marks.
If you are, what was the point of letting him sully you?
Wear them proudly. Show them all to me. Unless you don’t want me to see them, but that would be even worse. ”
Kuon’s face warmed. The first impulse to protest rose in his throat, ready to burst out, but he stifled it.
Yugo would never believe him in such a situation.
Moreover, Kuon couldn’t find a single reason to explain anything, especially after a week of silence, followed by Mio’s appearance and the kiss.
When Kuon took too long to answer, Yugo taunted, “Did your hole get so cock-hungry without me that you went looking for a replacement? How did you like him? Better? Worse? Should I offer him to join us next time?”
Voice trembling with wounded pride, Kuon said, “If you came here to insult me, the door is over there.”
Yugo’s harsh hand grabbed his elbow and pulled him off the bed, as if Kuon weighed nothing. “Don’t provoke me. Move.”
Kuon’s backside slipped off the sheets onto the hard, cold floor.
The height of the bed barely reached Yugo’s mid-shins, so the fall was more humiliating than painful.
Kuon hissed and sat up with his arm wound around his bent knee, fighting indignation.
A wave of anger cleared the fog from his mind and made his fists clench with the urge to wipe the sneer off Yugo’s lips and avenge the insult.
The fight would probably make him feel better, as the overpowering desire to hurt Yugo physically and mentally smoldered him alive.
He wanted Yugo to feel everything Kuon had felt when he’d seen Mio in his arms tonight. Such a wish felt stupid, childish, and immature, and if he was honest with himself, useless. He doubted he could hurt the Black Duke at all.
He had to break up with Yugo, make it clear that things had changed and that he had moved on.
To convey the thought that it wasn’t anyone’s fault.
Yugo got one thing right—he shouldn’t cover up or apologize.
He didn’t do what he did out of revenge, so he didn’t want to insult Yugo with a lie or himself with shame.
He didn’t want to pretend that nothing had happened.
More importantly, he couldn’t let Yugo misunderstand him further, because with every blow, with every cruel word, Yugo’s respect for him would diminish.
He forced himself to calm down and peer at the emotionless face. There was no point in disgracing himself by displaying ugly, unrequited emotions. Enraging Yugo wouldn’t help his case, and less than anything, Kuon wanted to cause Rick even more problems.
Fuck, Rick… His eyes flicked to the door. The apartment was too quiet, except for the whining of the puppies pacing in the cage.
The fact that the Black Duke was at Rick’s place but his friend was nowhere to be seen finally caught up with him. Kuon glanced at Yugo’s swollen cheek and bloodied knuckles.
“Since you came here, I assume you’ve got something to say. I’m listening, but do me a favor, put my mind at ease and tell me Rick’s alive and well.” Despite his heart stuttering, Kuon tried to sound calm and collected.
An insulting backhand slap across Kuon’s cheek was hard enough to make something pop in his jaw, but the pain zapping through his skull cut through the grogginess.
Through the red haze of anger and pain, Kuon glared up.