𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐧 !

「 𝟎 𝟎 𝟒 」

'I should treat my wounds before leaving. I doubt Yi Zaha will come looking for me, seeing the way the next executives are complete idiots. He's got a lot on his plate.'

You sit on the bed in the room the late fort master had given you, one hand struggling to pour the herbs into the raw flesh on your back. 

The Great Rakshasa never held back when it came to disciplining you, and you knew he found sick joy in hurting you. Your brothers and sisters in the past and now have never experienced the same treatment you endure, and you could never truly understand why.

He gives you a mask to wear, but declares you too weak to be one of the heavenly generals. 

The cloth you've shoved into your mouth prevents you from screaming out whenever the herb seeps into your wounds, the painful stinging spreading throughout your system.

'Shit, I have to hurry before master gets impatient with me.'

You frown, turning your head to get a better look at yourself in the mirror to the side. Your arms are beginning to hurt, fingers struggling to reach your upper back where the wounds continue to throb. 

You were in a compromising position with your upper clothing taken off, you don't think you'd continue to willingly live if Yi Zaha—or anyone in this matter–found you.

Thankfully though, this room is secluded and hidden from the blind eye.

If Yi Zaha did happen to see you earlier, then he'd assume you left when he notices you gone from behind that pillar. 

"Ngh!" the gag blocks a pained grunt that leaves your lips when the medicine seeps into the raw wounds, blood still dripping and leaving traces on your skin.

"Having someone to help you will remove your burdens."

You only have enough time to cover your front with a blanket before the man behind you puts a hand on your lower back to keep you from attacking him, hitting your acupoints and chuckling under his breath when you curse at him through the gag you failed to remove.

'I didnt sense yi zaha enter the room at all.'

You glare at him through the mask you kept on, struggling against your body as you could only hope he releases your pressure points. 

He grabs the herb bottle you held, settling himself down on the space beside you before gently applying the medicine on your wounds.

It still stings, but with the way he's so careful, the pain lessens.

'What is he planning this time..' you sigh, having to choice but to let him tend to your wounds. You feel awkward, sitting with your hands clutching a blanket against your bare chest. 

When he finishes, your back is evenly treated with the herbs and wrapped perfectly with bandages. The whole time, he has not uttered a word, nor has he made eye contact with you.

Just when you think he's about to release you, he reaches for your mask, but you panic and quickly release a pulse of your qi to send him back.

He staggers backwards, the same way he did the 'first time' the both of you met when he grabbed your wrist at the market.

'She will upset if I take off her mask now.'

Still, the pads of his fingers slide over the skin of your stiff shoulders, his thumbs gently digging into the tensed muscles.

'why am I getting a massage????' 

You try to talk, let him know there was no need, but the gag is still in your mouth, the only sounds leaving your lips are muffles grunts and incomprehensible words.