Turning Chapter 755 (Patreon)

Chapter 755

It was dark and cold.

Quiet and dreadful.

In a feeling that seemed to gather all the sinister things in the world, Yuder faintly felt the chilly fingertips touching his cheek.

It was not bare skin, but the touch of a glove made of lifeless, stitched leather. The all too familiar, and therefore dreadful sensation, awakened a negative emotion in Yuder’s faint unconsciousness.

As if recognizing this, someone chuckled, a change perceived not by sound but by the shift in the air that brushed his skin. That strange yet oddly familiar sensation puzzled Yuder.

'And where am I?' he wondered.

Yuder opened his eyes. Beyond the hazy view, only the formless, swaying darkness was visible. Whether lying down or standing up was indistinguishable, only the chilly sensation touching his face was clear. Slowly rolling his eyes, Yuder realized that what was caressing his cheek was a hand wrapped in a white leather glove.

Yes, it was a hand.

There was no body where it should have been attached. The hand, which was alone in the darkness as if someone had cut it off, was much larger than an ordinary person’s and was strangely beautiful.

And Yuder had seen that glove before.

He could only recall that fact, not where he had seen it. As he stared blankly, the fingers moved again, brushing his cheek. The touch, cold and corpse-like, sent shivers down his spine, triggering a flood of memories.

It was an object Yuder had touched and felt countless times, even familiar with the minute feel of its stitched leather. Yet, it shouldn't have been here.

Because...

'Kishiar.'

The name echoed faintly in his mind and then faded away.

Yes, those white gloves always adorned the hands of a man who concealed his bare skin until his last breath. The hands that had gripped and clawed at Yuder but never parted from him, their smell, their texture...

As soon as he remembered that, Yuder smelled a rancid blood scent, stale dust, and rotten stench at the same time. The moment he swallowed his breath as if he was about to vomit, the hand that had touched his cheek fell away. Then, as if it were a lie, all the smells disappeared and the sensation that was about to boil up subsided again.

But now his mind was clearer than before. Yuder was certain that the glove and hand before him were known to him.

It was undoubtedly Kishiar's hand. But the current Kishiar La Orr didn't wear such gloves. Even at parties, he preferred bare hands, adorned with rings and bracelets. Touching his hand, one would feel warm blood flowing through smooth, firm skin, not the cold leather.

Those were the hands of a swordsman, seemingly unscarred yet betraying countless battles upon touch.

Now, they were just a memory, belonging to a man long dead, who never removed those gloves.

Yuder's breath quickened. Silently gazing at the still-fluttering glove, he slowly opened his mouth.

Kishiar.

His silent call flowed out, and in response, the white glove moved subtly. When it touched Yuder's cheek again, he bit his lip at the faintly wafting scent but did not turn away.

As if sensing his resolve to remain still, the hand within the white glove slowly descended. It gently traced over Yuder's bitten lips, down his jawline, and finally came to rest upon his neck.

Yuder felt a momentary fear that the hand might strangle him, but no such thing happened. The gloved hand merely rested on his skin, as if to feel the pulsing of his heartbeat.

‘…’

A sudden thought struck him – this had happened before. Yes, definitely. Those cold hands occasionally touched him like this, seemingly feeling his breath or, perhaps, contemplating his death.

Cold and chilling, devoid of warmth, the hand would linger for a while before disappearing, leaving his side.

It was the hand of the man he had killed, departing without a word.

It's you.

This realization hit him suddenly.

Immediately after, the air around him seemed to stir and change, reminiscent of the laughter he had felt with his eyes closed, yet slightly different.

The fingers in the glove slowly curled, except for the forefinger, which gently scraped across his skin. Yuder, who had been feeling this without even breathing, realized a bit late that the movement had a certain pattern.

It was... letters.

The finger moved so distinctly that he couldn't help but realize it was tracing letters, and finally completed the stroke of the last letter. Now Yuder understood its meaning.

The finger-written message read:

‘Correct.’

The moment he realized it was a response to his thoughts, the hand gripped his neck and pushed him, sending his body plummeting into pitch-black darkness.

Yuder closed his eyes in the fall, only to open them again amid unrealistically bright sunlight.

‘...A dream?’

He couldn't move for a long time, even as he looked into those warm, red eyes. It took too long to regain a sense of reality.

His heart pounded as if gripped by fear. Noticing something odd about Yuder's reaction, Kishiar, who had been lying facing him, furrowed his brows and gently caressed Yuder's cheek.

“Yuder?”

As soon as Kishiar’s hand touched him, Yuder stiffened his shoulders and sat up abruptly. The breath he had been holding finally burst out, and cold sweat began to pour out.

“...”

“Yuder. What's wrong?”

“Commander.”

His voice came out hoarse and heavy.

“Yes, it's me.”

Kishiar, who had moved to embrace him, hesitated and then stood still, observing Yuder's reaction. He slowly reached out and took Yuder's hand. The warmth of the skin contact gradually brought heat back to Yuder's cold flesh.

Reality. It was only then that the touch felt real, his breathing normalized, and his heartbeat returned to its usual pace.

Only then did Yuder put some strength into his hand and held Kishiar’s hand. As he exhaled deeply, Kishiar finally came a little closer and hugged his shoulder.

The unique, cool scent of Kishiar wafted over him, a fragrance only Awakener with a second gender like him could perceive. Familiar and intricately mixed, the recognition of his unique scent eased Yuder's mind.

“Did you have a bad dream?”

"Did you feel anything while I was asleep?"

Yuder asked, wondering if Kishiar had sensed anything through the thread of emotion and connection between them. However, Kishiar silently shook his head.

"Not at all."

"And you didn't have any strange dreams either."

"I had no dreams at all. I just lay there with my eyes closed until you woke up. I thought you were sleeping peacefully, but then you suddenly opened your eyes and stopped breathing. You can't imagine how startled I was."

"…I see."

So, the dream he had was solely his own experience.

It was indeed a strange dream. A dream featuring only the gloved hand of Kishiar from his previous life. Could it really have been just a nightmare?

"Can you tell me what dream you had?"

"…"

Despite Kishiar's question, Yuder found it difficult to speak. The subject of the dream made him hesitant.

He was still in a state of confusion, unsure if it was wise to speak about something he didn't fully understand himself. He lacked confidence in providing a clear, objective explanation. Moreover, he didn't even know where to begin, which was a significant problem.

Explaining in such a state would be fruitless for both of them. Kishiar would try to comfort Yuder in any situation, but Yuder didn't want him to be overly concerned about his confusion.

Ultimately, the best course seemed to be for Yuder to sort out his thoughts and feelings first.

He raised his hand to his face, as if washing away the dryness, then spoke.

“Can I tell you after I… sort it out a bit? I think I need some time to think.”