Pangaea Academy: Revelations (Countryhumans)

Chapter 56 : Hell is Home

Vanilla and amber scents wafts in the air. It was hot and stuffy, the air-condition was on full blast but the two bodies on the bed were sweating, panting, heavily breathing for air; the bed creaked loudly and incessantly, small delicate hands gripped on the sheets while rhythmically rocking back and forth. It only ended after half a day where the sun was at its zenith.

The days in the house were like days in purgatory.

Martial sat down on the couch as the servants and maids cleaned and replaced the sheets, holding back their disgust.

Mark stood by the side, reporting his schedule and appointments.

“Cancel these, I'll meet up with the rest.”

Mark nodded and turned to the sound of the door opening. A maid came out from the bathroom while guiding Philipia by the hand; dripping hue blue hair stuck to her body, steam rising out, and the scent of soap filled the room.

Martial was drying his hair with a towel. “Come here, I'll dry your hair,” He solicited.

Mark signalled the maid with his eyes.

The maid obeyed and was about to guide Philipia to Martial, but she didn't budge. She remained standing in place.

The back of the sofa was facing the bathroom, even if Martial wasn't looking, he can tell what was going on. “If you don't come here, that maid will die.” His voice inpreril's the woman's life.

Hearing his words, the maid visibly trembled and looked pleadingly over the female leader. Although she couldn't see—she refuse to put her eyes back—she could feel the servant's fear and trembling hand holding hers.

“No need. I'll come towards you.”

Martial smirked. “Alright. Come here.” He pats his lap while sitting casually with knees apart.

Philipia gave the maid's hand a firm squeeze, reassuring her. The maid's eyes watered and kneeled on the floor. Mark sighed and signalled her to leave.

Philipia walked slowly, but from Filipia's early memories, she can picture the whole structure and its layout. She walked a few steps forward, her hands groping around until she touched the back of the sofa, brushing Martial's nape.

Sensing that soft touch, Martial shuddered and couldn't help holding her hand from the back as he guided her to walk in front. “You're doing that on purpose?”

Mark sensed the atmosphere and swiftly ordered the servants to leave while he guard outside the door.

“Come, sit here.” He pulled Philipia to his lap. Her legs wrapped around his waist and burying his face on her chest, inhaling the scent of the same soap and shampoo that he use. It felt as if he finally conquered her, as if he finally had her in his hand.

“This was all I ever wanted. Just this. You and me, in our own world, our own home. What about you?” He asked, looking up with his chin on her chest, “What do you want?—aside from your friends not dying of course.”

Philipia didn't answer. What can she answer anyways?

“Even if you don't say anything, I know what you want.”

Martial hummed as he rub his face on her chest like a clingy cat. “Just a bit more. Just a bit more...”

Tall stacks of green grass swayed with the wind, the breeze was fresh and cool, the birds chirp incessantly as they circle around; flowers of different kinds that can bloom in a tropical weather danced like fairies; beautiful scenery, and a clear blue sky that looked endless. Philipia was sitting in a palanquin by the lake, her reflection can be seen; melancholic air with a red satin fabric covering her eyes.