Reincarnated In a Cthulhu World And Everyone Is Obsessed With Me - Chapter 49

Chapter 49: Extravagant Hope – Most Intimate, Most Cruel.

The radio crackled with static. In a state between dreaming and waking, Xia Mingyu heard the words “Shadow Guild” and finally jolted awake.

The world before him remained a void of sightless darkness. He realized, with a touch of melancholy, that he was already beginning to adapt to this inconvenience.

—“The Shadow Guild will soon return in triumph.”

the mechanical female voice was turned low, just enough to mask the sounds of distant slaughter, becoming a sort of white noise that aided sleep.

A monster tide described as “Meteor-Fall Class” had swept through. The foul stench of blood permeated the Northern Ruin, but thanks to the Shadow Guild’s intervention, a semblance of peace was maintained amidst the chaos. The guild’s vast shadow acted as the final curtain of the apocalypse; its arrival was the sturdiest of shields.

Leaning against the bed, Xia Mingyu began to organize his thoughts. He had escaped Limbo’s prison, returned to Gustav’s Iron Nest, and then there was… the stranger from last night.

That meadow in the dream—was that the man’s mental landscape?

A rich, nourishing power still pulsed through Xia’s limbs, as warm as the sunlight over that field. It was gentle yet surging, much like the heartbeat he had felt in that dream.

…

The door creaked open. The visitor’s footsteps paused. “You’re awake.”

It was him. Despite his blindness, Xia Mingyu turned toward the sound. The voice was cold, like freshly formed ice—clear and resonant.

“I left the radio on so you wouldn’t wake up disoriented. Did it disturb you?”

“No… thank you.” Xia realized the man had specifically left it on for his comfort. Since losing his sight, Xia’s first instinct upon waking was always to assess his surroundings for danger. This man was the first to consider his need for psychological safety.

Xia was moved by the delicacy of the gesture, but it felt—almost too good to be true. The man had saved his life; shouldn’t he be stating his price while Xia was at his weakest? Just as Gustav had traded prosthetic eyes for secrets.

Unprovoked kindness made Xia more uneasy than unprovoked malice.

As Xia fumbled to get out of bed, Sheikh stepped forward to support him. Without his cane, Xia was indeed clumsy, forcing him to murmur another “thank you.”

Sheikh said, “You’ve thanked me too much already. You can relax.”

Xia Mingyu followed the man’s lead. “Alright.”

The man had asked about his eyes the night before, and Xia had avoided the question. Sheikh had respected that silence, not pressing him now.

“Sir, how should I address you?” Xia’s voice was still raspy from exhaustion, followed by a low cough. Sheikh could hear Xia’s pulse—it was too slow, the heart rate of a sickly man.

“You can call me Nathanael.”

Just as they had met by chance at the base ball, Sheikh skillfully bypassed his famous title. He knew better than anyone how much the name “Sheikh” would create distance.

Nathanael—meaning ‘Gift of God.’ A name weighted with grand expectations.

Xia Mingyu frowned. “Have we met before? When?”

Sheikh gave a soft “Mm.” “At the Southern First Base. Just a few passing glances. Don’t feel burdened.”

A few glances? Xia froze. If the man had seen him but Xia had no memory of him… was it at the Paradise Lost club? Xia had been a diligent worker there; he’d collected more romantic debts than tips.

Sheikh’s left arm, still bearing the lingering traces of Xia’s mental power, was the one supporting him. That wisp of power, sensing its master, sent a shiver straight to Sheikh’s soul.

Sheikh suppressed a smile. “And you?”

“…Xia Mingyu.”

He doesn’t even know my name. Xia grew more certain that a storm was brewing. “Gustav said names represent bonds, so he never asked me.”

Sheikh looked toward the closed soundproof surgical room in the Iron Nest, his water-blue eyes shimmering. “Yes, he is… difficult.”

“Difficult?” Xia was confused.

Sheikh smiled without explaining, helping Xia into a seat. He pulled a specially processed nutrient solution from the mechanical cabinet. “Have you fasted for days? Take this first. It’s easy to digest.”

Xia was stunned. He had been thinking the same thing, yet Nathanael had anticipated it. The mental power on Sheikh’s arm flickered, gripping his heart. The fledgling Guide didn’t yet know how to control his power, letting his emotional fluctuations affect the Sentinel he was in intimate contact with.

Sheikh looked deeply at him and suddenly asked, “Do you… want to join Shadow?”

…

Before Xia had woken, Sheikh had stood at the entrance of the Iron Nest, watching the churning crimson of the battlefield. His heightened senses gave him a god-like view of the slaughter.

Gustav walked out, offering a cigarette. “Want one?”

Sheikh took it. He leaned down to shield the flame, and as he exhaled, a fine plume of smoke drifted from his lips. Sheikh only smoked in rare, specific moments. Nicotine numbed the nerves, but sometimes, it briefly masked the fluctuations of emotion.

On the hand holding the cigarette, Xia’s mental power remained—a translucent, silvery-white river winding from his forearm to his fingertips.

Gustav noted it with a click of his tongue. “That’s a bit too obvious, isn’t it?” He sounded disgruntled. “You just let him into your mental landscape? Truly, that brat got a bargain.”

A Sentinel opening their landscape for a Guide’s treatment—how was that different from making love?

Sheikh only smiled faintly. Gustav asked, “Did you know him before?”

Sheikh chose his words carefully. “I suppose you could say we’re acquainted.”

Gustav felt cheated. He thought Sheikh was just being a Good Samaritan. “He better have some sense and just offer himself to you as repayment. Following the Chief means he won’t lose his eyes again.”

“I can take him back to the base,” Sheikh said calmly. “Gong Ziliao can heal his eyes. Or there are better exotic metals at the Guild headquarters.”

“Oh? And in what capacity would you bring him back?” Gustav teased. “Sheikh? Chief Sentinel? Leader of the Shadow Guild? No, from the start, you haven’t wanted him to know who you are. Little Nathanael, your intentions are far too obvious.”

…

—Shadow Guild.

Xia Mingyu realized the timing of Nathanael’s appearance wasn’t a coincidence; he was a Shadow member fresh out of a Realm.

Is he starting to negotiate terms?

Xia set down the unopened nutrient pack. “Why?” he asked, truly perplexed.

Logically, Nathanael could demand anything. He held the moral high ground and the absolute advantage in power. Why ask for his “will”? He was a fish on a cutting board; what butcher asks the fish for its opinion?

In the silence, Xia had already imagined his “future”:

1. Taken by Nathanael to become a “private guide,” a captive bird with no freedom. A dead end.

2. Meeting Ruan Congyun at Shadow, picking a fight, and losing again. A dead end.

3. Meeting Sheikh, triggering a reincarnation bug, and being killed by the Chief again. A dead end.

Sheikh noticed Xia hadn’t touched the food. “Don’t you like it?”

Xia began to eat slowly. After a few sips, color finally returned to his pale face.

Sheikh, learning from the previous night, waited until Xia had some energy before speaking again. “Let’s do it again.”

Xia almost choked. “What?”

“Mental regulation.” Sheikh’s gaze dropped to the suppressors on Xia’s neck before he looked away. “Don’t you want to unlock those soon?”

So, when Gustav mentioned “that kind of thing,” he meant mental regulation? Xia’s mind raced as scattered pieces of information clicked together like firecrackers. Nathanael doesn’t want anything from me? I’d believe in ghosts before I believed him.

…

How much longer Sheikh could stay was a mystery. He might leave in two days, or tonight. He wanted to unlock Xia’s suppressors and fulfill Gustav’s promise before he left.

“If he is willing, I will take him with me,” Sheikh had told Gustav. “If not, I will leave as Nathanael.”

“Nathanael” was a secret buried in the dust. He could be Gustav’s friend or a stranger in the Ruin. “Sheikh,” however, carried the weight of the era. He couldn’t be both a man with desires and a worshipped idol.

Sheikh stood before Xia, narrowing his aqua-blue eyes as he reached for the suppressors on Xia’s neck. “Relax. Let me feel your mental power.”

Xia took a deep breath. “You know, right? If you try to kill me, I will destroy your mental landscape.”

Sheikh gazed at him. Behind the blustering threat, he saw Xia’s teetering insecurity. “I know,” Sheikh whispered. “Are you ready?”

“Can I…?”

“You can.” Sheikh lowered his mental defenses even further. He couldn’t be more disarmed.

The next second, Xia reached for Sheikh’s narrow waist. He knew Shadow uniforms; he knew there was a dagger at the small of the back. As he pulled the blade, he heard Nathanael’s nearly indulgent sigh.

Xia gripped the dagger, a wary, defensive posture. Sheikh was willing to give Xia maximum security, even in extreme ways. “Can we start now?”

Xia’s long lashes fluttered. “Yes. We can.”

The beautiful butterfly finally stopped hesitating and plunged into his mental landscape. The silver river on Sheikh’s arm turned as hot as lava, burning the softest parts of his soul.

This time… it hurt. Sheikh frowned slightly but still embraced the butterfly, weaving his lethal weaknesses into a bed for him to rest.

…

Xia’s breath grew hot, a rosy flush blooming on his pale face. By the end, he wasn’t clutching the dagger as a weapon, but as a lifeline.

Sheikh loosened the collars one by one. “Slow down,” he murmured. The Guide was drinking too fast; he would get sick.

Sheikh’s voice startled Xia. The dagger tightened then loosened. “Alright…”

Sheikh looked at the bright blade and coaxed him: “I really won’t hurt you.” He felt ridiculous making such a promise in this situation.

The pain from the mental landscape intensified. Sheikh let out a low, ragged breath.

“Did I hurt you?” Xia paused.

Sheikh didn’t answer. He unlocked two more suppressors. Xia’s complexion improved, like a wilted rose finally drinking water. Then, Xia began to “give back,” soothing the Sentinel’s mind.

“Does it hurt less now?” Xia asked. He felt Nathanael’s tension, the heat of the Sentinel’s body covered in a thin layer of sweat.

“Mm,” Sheikh breathed. The butterfly was finally being gentle. He couldn’t help but whisper, “…Xia Mingyu.”

In the blur of sensory stimulation, Xia responded with a muddled “Mm?” His lips were like dew-kissed petals, dangerously beautiful.

Sheikh looked at the digitized collarbone and asked softly, “Does it still hurt?”

Xia didn’t know what he was asking; he just shook his head obediently. Sheikh’s heart melted. He felt an extravagant hope—was Xia Mingyu the one exception fate had granted him?

Sheikh leaned down, intending to brush a lock of hair aside. But Xia—sensing the sudden proximity—slammed the dagger against Sheikh’s throat.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Xia’s voice was suddenly ice-cold.

Sheikh froze. Did Xia think he was going to hurt him, or was he just rejecting his closeness? A thin red line appeared on Sheikh’s neck, blood slowly seeping out. One inch deeper and the blade would sever his artery.

Sheikh didn’t move. The threat was nothing to him, but Xia’s attitude truly stung. In his mental landscape, a little butterfly was frolicking, yet the man before him was doing the cruelest thing at the most intimate moment.

But indeed, he had overstepped.

“Sorry. Let’s stop here for now.” Sheikh looked uncharacteristically flustered. He unlocked the last two suppressors on Xia’s wrists and carefully “pushed” the butterfly out of his mind.

Without a word from Xia to stay, Sheikh left the room.

Xia lowered the dagger. A drop of warm blood gathered on the blade and dripped onto the back of his hand.

…I think I completely messed it up.

Xia wasn’t made of wood; he could feel Nathanael’s kindness. But he couldn’t trust anyone when he was weak. A hand held out always came with a hidden price tag.

He didn’t want things to get complicated. He could do a deal, but anything more…

Why didn’t he dodge? Xia thought dazed. Was he not afraid I’d actually kill him?

This dangerous relationship, full of testing and pulling, dragged both of them into a whirlpool of ambiguity.