Chains of Vengeance

Chapter 180: So Close, Yet So Far From Secret

Sunlight filtered softly through the cracks in the window, illuminating the room in a golden glow. There was no rooster crowing that morning; most likely the poor cultist animal was sleeping off his drunkenness like the rest of the cult's inhabitants.

Narinder was the first to wake up, feeling surprisingly fresh and energetic. He sat up in bed and raised his arms in a wide stretch, feeling his muscles and bones crack with a satisfying sound. His normally flawless fur was rather messy, but he didn't care. His red eyes shone with vitality as he enjoyed the simple fact of being alive and whole.

With a proud smile, he proclaimed,

"A very good morning, my loves!"

The echo of his voice resonated in the room, but instead of receiving an enthusiastic response, what he got were two pitiful moans.

Lambert and Goliath stood on either side of him, still caught in the hellish hangover that inevitably followed their night of excess. Their faces reflected absolute suffering: dark circles under their eyes, dull skin and a look of pure agony.

Lambert, burying his face in the pillow, complained in a raspy voice:

—Lower your voice... I feel like my head is going to explode...

Goliath, for his part, remained motionless, with his eyes barely closed and a gesture of deep discomfort. He held his stomach with one hand, clearly fighting nausea.

Narinder, completely oblivious to his suffering, inhaled deeply the atmosphere of the room. The air was heavy with the dense aroma of alcohol, lamb sweat and raw goat, a trace of the previous night that seemed to him a memory worth treasuring.

—Ahhh... —he exhaled with satisfaction, closing his eyes for a moment to record the moment in his memory.

Touched by the pitiful state of his husbands, Narinder smiled tenderly and raised his hands to their heads, gently caressing them.

"My poor ones..." he murmured with amusement, feeling slightly superior for being the only one not suffering the ravages of the night.

Lambert and Goliath only responded with more moans, burying themselves further into the blankets while Narinder, beaming with energy, enjoyed his small morning victory.

Narinder, still with his playful smile, looked down at his two husbands, who lay in bed like two lost souls. Unable to resist, he bent his face and gave Lambert a soft kiss on the lips, pressing them gently, enjoying the warm touch of his lamb. Then, he turned and repeated the gesture with Goliath, tenderly caressing his strong snout before leaving an equally sweet kiss.

However, the tenderness of the moment crumbled instantly. Lambert barely reacted, letting out a sleepy murmur as his brow furrowed from a headache. Goliath, for his part, groaned uncomfortably, his expression tense from the imminent threat of vomit.

Narinder chuckled amusedly and, with one last sympathetic glance at his battered husbands, stood up with brimming energy.

"I'm going out, can I get you something?" he asked cheerfully, stretching once more with satisfaction.

Goliath could barely open one eye, his grey fur looking a little paler than usual.

"A vomit bucket..." he groaned hoarsely, clearly losing the battle against nausea.

Lambert tossed and turned in bed with a pitiful moan, covering his eyes with a sheet.

"A camellia tea... please..." he asked in a small voice.

Narinder nodded enthusiastically. Without bothering to put on his robes, he left the house, leaving behind the hangover-laden atmosphere.

Outside, the day was bright. The sun shone high in the sky, though a few clouds floated lazily here and there, filtering the light from time to time. Some cultists who hadn't drank the night before went about their duties as normal, though, like him, they still didn't wear their robes. It seemed that the ritual from the day before still had its effect on them.