Everyone is Obsessed With Me (reupload)

Chapter 9

Hanbal awoke with a sharp gasp, his breath hitching in his throat. His heart raced wildly, thudding against his ribcage like a wild gorilla. In a moment of vulnerability, he had let his guard down, revealing his true self to those who would ultimately stage his ruin. And the most crushing blow of all? He had cried. He cried like a baby in a casket, his tears streaming down his cheeks almost willingly.

He, Ye Joon, a 30-year-old man, had let go of his shame and sobbed like a child throwing a tantrum. He cried out like a child pent up from the frustration of being neglected - like a child who couldn't decipher his own emotions and resorted to crying to relieve the internal pain of being alone and lost.

'Ugh,' he groaned internally, trying his best to stop the shame from creeping up on him. What's done is done, he told himself. It's too late; he did what he had to do. There is no use in trying to run away in shame. He's not a dog. He sighed and thought to himself, failing to notice the tall man sitting beside him. His amber-colored eyes looked at Hanbal with a masked emotion hidden beneath. He sat silently with a book in hand, watching the tiny figure stand up and stare into nothing.

'Strange,' he thought to himself. 'He looks like an angel...' The light shone through the curtains, casting a gentle glow that illuminated Hanbal's soft skin, which was as white as paper. His eyes sparkled like gold beneath the dawn, almost like it, in itself, is its own ray of light. The child looked skinny and breakable, like a porcelain vase made of the finest material that has ever graced the earth. His gaze was innocent, a deep depth that tells of the weight of unspoken fears. Every gentle breath he took seemed to echo the fragility of his existence, a silent plea for protection.

He leaned to the side, resting his cheeks on his hand, and looked on with amusement. His eyes were slightly narrowed, and his lips curved into an almost imperceptible smile. Deep within, a part of him rejoiced at the sight of his son - at the sight of Hanbal. It danced and sang praises, thrilled to observe such a beauty up close. Yet, a smaller part of him, struggled to suppress those feelings, fighting a losing battle. It screamed at him to get a grip of himself, urging him to leave the garbage where it belonged - in the trash. But ultimately, he felt that the other side of him seemed to be winning.

While Osric watched Hanbal silently, Hanbal, who noticed the heated gaze, froze silently and shook his bed. He was sweating and felt the knot in his stomach twisted into an even tighter knot. Why is he here? And why does he look like that? Why is there an air of gentle fatherly love? Where's the evil father who sold his son?

"Hanbal, how are you feeling? You were out for about 15 hours. I was starting to get worried."

What? Was he out for that long? Was he that sleep-deprived that he slept for almost half the day?

"You must have been tired to pass out like that. You should rest; the doctor will check on you soon."

"F-father, I will be fine," Hanbal mumbled, his voice hoarse and his throat dry. "Now please excuse me, I am tired."

Hanbal bowed from his bed and tried to lift his blanket to cover himself, hoping the other man would leave him alone. But he felt a large pair of hands on his waist, lifting him from his soft bed. He felt the room spin slightly before his sight adjusted to a handsome face. Still groggy from sleep, his mind felt sluggish, as if it was buffering. The scent of sandalwood enveloped him, intoxicating yet almost overpowering, a blend of warmth and sharpness that danced along his senses. It took a moment for him to register that he was being cradled like a child. His legs draped over Osric's muscular arm, and his head rested gently against Osric's firm chest. He could hear the steady rhythm of Osric's breathing, a calm presence, and the peculiar thought crossed his mind—could he even have a heartbeat? The moment felt surreal, caught between the dreamlike haze of sleep and the comforting strength of the man holding him.

Despite the 'comforting' smile and rhythmic breathing, all Hanbal could feel was fear. He felt like a rabbit being held in the jaws of a wolf. The wolf started to sway slightly and a low humming sound made its way out of his throat. His hand, which was meant to kill, was gentle and warm, patting his bum gently, almost as if lulling him to sleep. Hanbal shook slightly. Irritated and overwhelmed by emotions from his fatigue, he began to kick his feet like a spoiled child in a candy store, seeking to express his frustration. He let out a small sound of irritation, silently hoping that Osric would take the hint and understand his discomfort.

But Osric merely swayed a bit faster, patting Hanbal's bum with a little more firmness. Typically, Osric would snap at anyone who dared to make a sound that hinted at negativity towards him. However, he found Hanbal's protests adorable, like a disgruntled little bunny.

When Hanbal noticed the lack of responses, he started to calm down slightly and gave up. He was simply too tired. His mind hadn't fully awakened yet, and he lacked the energy to resist. All he felt was an overwhelming sense of fatigue. As his weary thoughts drifted toward dreamland, he found himself cradled in his father's comforting embrace, being gently swayed and sung to. In that instant, he felt a profound sense of safety wash over him. He gazed up at his father's blurred face, watching as it turned down to look at him, and he could sense the gentle, loving smile spreading across his father's beautiful features.

"Oh, there, there. I'm here love. Everything is going to be ok..." His father hummed softly, his voice a gentle caress that wrapped around Hanbal like a warm blanket. Slowly, his eyelids felt heavy, and before he knew it, he fell asleep to the sound of his father's gentle voice and warmth.

The door opened slightly, revealing a disheveled man with a prickly beard and a slouched posture. His coat looked slightly wet and his shirt looked like it was put on in the nick of time. Despite his sludgy appearance and lack of proper manners, he was the royal doctor who had served both the previous and current Emperors. He had been roused from sleep by his assistant, who informed him that Hanbal had awakened. The doctor was well aware of the kind of person Osric was—a demonic being devoid of a heart. He understood that even a moment's delay could cost him his head. Even the Emperor, who held a higher status in the public's eyes, wasn't as intimidating.

When he arrived at the patient's room, he opened the door expecting to find Hanbal resting in bed. Instead, he was taken aback to discover the bed was empty. Rather than lying on the bed, his patient was nestled in a wolf's den.

"Greetings, Lord," the doctor said gently, his nervous smile wavering as sweat began to trickle down his neck. Osric resembled a colossal black wolf, his eyes glowing ominously in the sunlight. Those piercing eyes never left the doctor's face, even as the doctor began to examine the small child cradled in Osric's arms. "Um, I believe he will return to a stable condition with proper rest and a nutritious diet. He is currently severely underweight and at risk of malnutrition."

"Malnutrition?" Osric hummed gently, seemingly deep in thought. But his swaying and patting did not stop.

"P-precisely, Lord. He lacks the essential nutrients and calories required for a boy his age. His wrist is as fragile as a twig; just a single slap could leave a significant bruise."

"Mhm, interesting."

The room plunged into silence, and the nervous wreck of a doctor swallowed hard. He felt the air turn cold, yet his palms remained clammy. A sense of impending calamity loomed over him, and he felt nothing but pity for the people who would be bound to a tree, facing the disaster head-on.

With a swift motion of his hand, the doctor quickly got up and left, as if his coat were on fire. The urgency of his departure left a palpable tension in the air. Alone in the room, Osric held the fragile Hanbal closer. He examined Hanbal's face more intently, noting the slight sunken cheeks and the unsettling prominence of his bony neck. That simply cannot do. Osric knew that something had to change; he couldn't bear to see Hanbal in such a vulnerable state.