TIC Chapter 54

“First, despite being a security detail member, I left Major General Gordon’s side.” Maya took a deep breath, meeting Hein’s gaze.

Hein remained silent.

“Second, Xiao Yan is a supervised individual; by taking him out of the mess hall without any accompanying special forces personnel, I allowed him to slip out of supervision.”

Hein’s gaze settled upon Maya; the young major unconsciously swallowed hard.

“Third, I should not have indulged Xiao Yan by letting him get drunk. Alcohol impairs his judgment, and should an emergency arise, it would place him in a perilous situation.”

“Mm.” Hein gave a soft, low acknowledgment.

Maya stood rooted to the spot, unsure of his next move—should he return Xiao Yan to his room, or go back to Major General Gordon’s side?

“Return to the Major General.”

That simple command left Maya momentarily stunned. He responded with a crisp, “Yes, Colonel,” then immediately turned and exited the training room.

As he stepped through the doorway, a faint smile involuntarily tugged at Maya’s lips.

Hein adjusted the system settings once more, resuming his marksmanship training with methodical precision. It was not until more than half an hour later—when there were no further scenarios left to configure—that Hein finally shut down the system.

Walking slowly into the washroom, Hein approached Xiao Yan and dropped to one knee. Xiao Yan sat with his head bowed and his arms hanging limply at his sides; his uniform collar hung wide open, exposing a broad expanse of bare skin. His legs were splayed wide in a completely uninhibited manner, and his trousers hung precariously low on his hips, revealing a strip of his undergarments.

“Wake up.”

Xiao Yan smacked his lips together and blinked his eyes open. The instant his gaze fell upon that stern, impassive face, he sprang to his feet as if triggered by a sudden shock reflex.

“Colonel Burton!”

Unfortunately, the effects of the alcohol had yet to subside. The moment Xiao Yan stood up, he tripped over his own trouser cuffs; his waistband instantly slid down, exposing a good portion of his thighs. Flustered and mortified, Xiao Yan hurriedly yanked his trousers back up and attempted to stand at attention.

Of course, that was merely his own perception; in Hein’s eyes, he was swaying unsteadily back and forth, side to side.

“Where is your uniform belt?” Hein asked, rising to his feet as well. "Huh?" Xiao Yan tilted his head in thought, but at that moment, he realized his brain wasn't exactly functioning at peak capacity. Images flashed through his mind—the special forces soldiers dancing energetically, the cocktails handed to him one after another—yet, for the life of him, he couldn't recall when or how he had lost his belt.

Before he could formulate an answer, Hein’s next question had already arrived.

"Can you walk?"

Xiao Yan swallowed hard and nodded with great solemnity. "I... I can walk, Colonel."

"Then let's go."

Xiao Yan stood frozen for a moment before realizing that Hein’s intention was likely to escort him back to his own room. And so, a rather awkward scene unfolded: Xiao Yan, clutching at his trousers, staggered unsteadily down the corridor, while Colonel Burton followed silently behind him; no matter how slowly Xiao Yan walked, Hein maintained a constant distance of exactly one arm's length away. Xiao Yan’s head felt foggy. He reached his dormitory door and pressed his finger against the biometric scanner—only to find that the door remained stubbornly motionless.

"Huh?" Xiao Yan narrowed his eyes, staring intently at the scanner. He tried pressing a different finger against it, but still, there was no response. Soon, he had tried all ten of his fingers, yet the door showed absolutely no sign of sliding open.

Hein Burton stood silently behind Xiao Yan, a presence that amplified Xiao Yan’s sense of embarrassment a hundredfold.

He activated his personal communicator and spoke to the quartermaster: "This is Xiao Yan... Cadet ID 1665... My door won't op—"

In the very next instant, Hein reached out from behind, grasped Xiao Yan’s wrist, and cut off the communication. Just as Xiao Yan turned to look back, Hein’s hand reached around his arm; the moment his fingers touched the scanner, the sliding door glided open.

Xiao Yan blinked in surprise, then broke into a smile: "Colonel Burton can actually open my door! That’s incredibly convenient!"

Perhaps it was the relief of finally returning to his own room, but Xiao Yan felt a sense of total relaxation wash over him. He flopped onto the sofa, lazily half-closing his eyes, feeling as though he never wanted to move again. His eyelids felt incredibly heavy; less than thirty seconds later, the sound of steady, rhythmic breathing filled the room. The cushion beside him sank down, yet Xiao Yan felt no desire to open his eyes to see who it was. He knew someone had taken a seat beside him; a hand rested on the back of his head, stroking it gently—a touch applied with such perfect, measured precision that it only served to make Xiao Yan feel even more utterly listless.

When the person rose to leave, Xiao Yan instinctively furrowed his brows. Moments later, his chin was gently lifted; the rim of a glass touched his lips. Xiao Yan took a sip of the cool water, then opened his eyes to find Hein standing right beside him.

“Hein… Hein Burton…”

“Indeed. So you still recognize me.” The other man’s voice was cool and detached.

Yes—that very expression! That exact tone of voice! It was enough to make a person—goddammit—absolutely furious!

“How could I *not* recognize you?!”

“Mm.” Hein pressed the glass into Xiao Yan’s hands. “Drink it all.”

Once again, all Xiao Yan could see of Hein was his retreating back.

As if pricked by a needle, Xiao Yan shot to his feet.

“I hate seeing your back.” Though his gaze was hazy and unfocused, he enunciated every single word with perfect clarity.

He expected Hein to walk away without hesitation, just as he always had in the past. But this time, Hein paused—then turned around.

“Why?”

“Because it feels like no matter how hard I try, I can never catch up to you! I can develop antidotes for bioweapons; I can isolate the Marking Virus. I’m telling you—one day, I’ll even complete the X-Project! But I know that when that day comes, you’ll still be showing me nothing but your goddamn back! I can’t beat you in a fight, anyway! When we’re out on missions, I’m nothing but dead weight holding you back! That’s why you never really *look* at me—why you don’t trust me the way you trust Mark or Liv… because I can’t even land a kick above your knees…”

Xiao Yan stood there, swaying unsteadily. His trousers slid down again, coming to rest precariously on his hips; one more step forward, and they would surely fall right off.

Hein, by contrast, stood perfectly still—his posture unwavering.

Xiao Yan gave a self-deprecating smile, took a step back, and slumped back down onto the sofa. He cursed himself for drinking so much—it felt as though he’d been acting completely without a brain in his head. Under normal circumstances, Hein would have simply ignored him completely. But this time, the man walked right up to him and spoke slowly: "I’ve been watching you the whole time."

The air seemed to rip open, and something began to surge in ceaselessly.

"Huh?" Xiao Yan looked up. What had Hein just said?

"And no one else has ever managed to land a kick on my knee."

Only then did Xiao Yan realize that Hein was responding—quite seriously, too—to the words he had spoken just moments ago.

"Once you’ve completed X—, I’m going to take you. Even if you beg me through your tears to stop, I won’t."

Xiao Yan’s mouth fell open, yet he couldn't utter a single word. *Take me? Won't stop?* Why did his brain suddenly refuse to function?

Hein placed a hand on Xiao Yan’s head, pressing down with a touch so gentle it seemed as if he were comforting a child.

*Don't you want to know just how high the Colonel's tolerance for you actually runs?*

Maya’s words echoed in Xiao Yan’s ears.

*Anyway, I won't have the guts to do this again later. The worst that can happen is Hein crushes my shoulder or breaks my arm—what else could he do? If I keep hesitating like this forever—constantly afraid of what I might lose, lacking the courage to burn my bridges and go all in—I’ll never get the answer I’m looking for!*

Xiao Yan abruptly grabbed Hein’s shoulders with both hands. Hein didn't budge an inch, but Xiao Yan wasn't deterred. He lunged forward, headfirst, with a look of sheer desperation. In that instant, he caught a glimpse of something akin to astonishment in the man’s eyes; the thousand-year-old iceberg had finally cracked open, revealing a fissure. For the first time, Hein lost his balance and toppled backward. Xiao Yan landed on top of him, his lips colliding with Hein’s cheekbone. Fortunately, Hein had managed to raise a hand to cushion Xiao Yan’s forehead; otherwise, the impact would surely have left him seeing stars.

"What the hell are you doing?" Hein’s brow furrowed in unexpected displeasure.

For the first time in his life, Xiao Yan felt a surge of triumph; he was certain that even the elite assassins of the Tide Organization could never have provoked such a reaction from this man.

*I kissed you! Don't you have a germ phobia? Did I gross you out? Are you going to kill me now?*

"I asked you: What are you doing?" Hein’s voice was ground out through clenched teeth. His hands clamped down on Xiao Yan’s arms—so tightly that Xiao Yan could already hear his own bones groaning under the pressure. "I'm doing something stupid, obviously!"

Even though fury seethed on Hein’s face—as if he were ready to kill him at any moment—Xiao Yan’s heart still pounded wildly. He was straddling this man; he was still alive right now—it felt nothing short of a miracle.

Xiao Yan stared at Hein, refusing to offer a reply.

"Get off!" Hein released Xiao Yan’s arms, but in that very instant, as if he had a death wish, Xiao Yan lowered his head once more.

Hein instinctively raised a hand to ward him off, but Xiao Yan pressed his lips against his palm, making a soft, audible *smooch*.

In an instant, something seemed to snap. The hand Xiao Yan had just kissed flipped over, cupped the back of his head, and yanked him down with sudden force.

Hein Burton’s frenzied kisses rained down upon Xiao Yan’s cheeks and the tip of his nose—fast and hard, as if he meant to devour him whole. The kisses were so rough they hurt; instinctively, Xiao Yan reached out to push against Hein’s shoulders. That momentary resistance only made Hein grip the back of his head even tighter; he kissed Xiao Yan’s jawline with such ferocity that it felt as if his very jawbone were about to be sucked right out of his flesh. Xiao Yan was too flustered to even open his mouth to speak. The world spun around him as he was suddenly pinned beneath Hein. The man’s gaze bore down on him with such intensity it felt as though it would pierce right through him; Xiao Yan could only stare back with wide eyes, utterly bewildered as events spiraled in a direction he had never anticipated.

He struggled to form words, but his mind had gone completely blank. Was this yet another hallucination?

The very next second, a sharp pain in his neck made every muscle in his body go rigid. Hein was sucking at the hollow of his throat with such force that his skin felt on the verge of tearing. Before he could even cry out, Hein’s tongue traced the line of his collarbone before biting down hard. Xiao Yan shuddered in pain; every alcohol-fueled impulse that had driven him moments ago vanished instantly, replaced by sudden, stark sobriety. Meanwhile, Hein’s hands were kneading Xiao Yan’s buttocks through the fabric of his military trousers—a touch so rough it bordered on torture. The pain made Xiao Yan instinctively arch his back, only to be immediately pinned back down by the man above him. “Speak! Who taught you all this?”

Suddenly, Hein seized Xiao Yan’s wrist and pinned it against the side of his head. In Hein’s eyes, Xiao Yan saw an unparalleled fury—a rage so intense it seemed capable of shattering the very room around them.

“...” Xiao Yan froze. He had never seen Hein like this before—a terrifying presence capable of devouring him whole in a single gulp.

“If you don’t tell me right now, I’m going to take you!”

Hein’s fingers hooked into the waistband of Xiao Yan’s combat trousers; with a sudden, violent tug, they were yanked down. Hein drove his left knee upward, lifting Xiao Yan’s right leg into the air. Faced with such a poised, imminent assault, Xiao Yan was left completely dumbfounded.

“Was it Maya?”

Xiao Yan’s shoulders gave a start, and he nodded instinctively. The moment he realized that this admission would likely spell Maya’s doom, he frantically shook his head—but alas, it was already too late.

“Xiao Yan, do you really think you can handle this? Aren’t you being a little too arrogant?”

Hein grabbed Xiao Yan’s right hand and guided it downward. Even through the fabric of his combat uniform, the rigid, erect hardness beneath was terrifyingly distinct; the instant Xiao Yan’s palm made contact, the searing heat made him gasp sharply. Hein forced Xiao Yan’s fingers to curl around the throbbing member—swollen with surging blood, it felt obscenely thick and arrogant, as if it were on the verge of bursting.

“The next time you try playing games like this with *any* special forces soldier, I promise I’ll screw you until you’re broken.”

Though there was no actual murderous intent in Hein’s eyes, the sheer intensity of his gaze was enough to leave Xiao Yan thoroughly intimidated. He nodded dumbly. Immediately afterward, Hein rose from atop him; the crushing pressure—which had felt as if it were grinding his very bones to dust—suddenly lifted, and Xiao Yan finally exhaled the breath he had been holding tight in his chest.

“Go to sleep.” Hein’s voice was pitched very low—barely a whisper.

Xiao Yan nodded, then scrambled onto the bed without a second thought. He yanked the covers up and wrapped himself completely inside the blanket, bewildered as to why he felt so utterly terrified.

In that moment, a scent began to drift through the air—a scent of quiet strength and deep restraint; it felt at once utterly foreign and yet, somehow, profoundly familiar. Xiao Yan wanted to feel relieved, but alas, the alcohol coursing through his veins began to take its toll; drowsiness washed over him once more. In his hazy state, he was only dimly aware that someone had sat down beside him—someone who remained there for a very long time without making a single sound.

“...Am I really just a total rookie?” Xiao Yan mumbled the question in a whisper, though the moment the words left his lips, he could barely recall what he had even asked.

“No. Everyone has their own domain.”

“...So this isn't *my* domain... I can't be as formidable as a Special Forces soldier.” Xiao Yan couldn't quite explain it; despite being utterly exhausted, he stubbornly refused to let himself drift off to sleep. And though he had been scared out of his wits just moments ago, he now felt an inexplicable sense of security.

“If you’re referring to the X-virus... I won't allow you to pay that kind of price.”

“Why...?”

The other man offered no verbal reply; instead, he simply reached out and gently brushed aside the blanket covering Xiao Yan’s head. Xiao Yan felt something make contact with his lips.

Instinctively, Xiao Yan flicked the tip of his tongue against the other man. He felt as though he were being drawn in by an invisible force, unable to simply let the other man pull away; compelled by that urge, he chased after the kiss.

The man’s arm wrapped around Xiao Yan’s shoulders, effortlessly pulling him close. Xiao Yan found himself lying draped across the man’s body—one hand holding him securely at the waist, the other gently cradling the back of his head.

“Mm...” Xiao Yan nuzzled his cheek against the man’s face, and in response, the man leaned in to plant a soft, lingering kiss on his earlobe.

The sensation filled Xiao Yan with a deep sense of contentment and longing; before long, he drifted off into a deep slumber.

The man holding him, however, remained wide awake. His fingers were rigid and tense as he struggled—with every ounce of his will—to suppress a powerful, surging impulse.

A long while later, the man finally and gently laid Xiao Yan back down beside him, then rose to leave the room. It was two o'clock in the morning; the striptease party in the mess hall had finally come to an end. The Special Forces soldiers filed out, still buzzing with unspent energy, while several researchers—looking utterly wretched—were so thoroughly intoxicated that they couldn't even manage to stand up. Liv cast a reproachful glance at Mark and Wynn—who had been egging everyone on all night—before helping the unconscious Cathy to her feet and leading her out.

Major General Gordon walked down the corridor, followed closely by Maya and Jessica. “I think this strip party is going to be far more entertaining than that masquerade ball we had last year.” Major General Gordon stroked his chin, expressing his absolute confidence in Jessica and Maya’s organizational skills.

After escorting the Major General back to his quarters and ensuring all arrangements were in order, Maya made his way back to his own room.

The moment he opened the door and the lights flooded the room, his instincts—honed by years of combat—screamed of imminent danger and lethal intent. Yet, before Maya could even react, his assailant moved with swift, ruthless precision, clamping a vice-like grip around his throat and slamming him violently against the wall.

Maya attempted to crush his attacker’s wrist bones, but a brutal knee strike to the gut left him retching, feeling as though he were about to vomit up his own internal organs.

Faced with such a fluid, unstoppable assault—an attack he was utterly powerless to counter—Maya could think of only one person. Clutching his abdomen, he lowered his head and rasped, “Boss...”

“Do you find the little game you designed to be amusing?”

A voice—cold and cruel—rang out. Though framed as an interrogation, it was delivered in a chillingly flat monotone, devoid of any inflection. The air grew thick and heavy, stifling his lungs; Maya swallowed hard, struggling to breathe.

“...Boss... I just thought...” He couldn't bring himself to utter the rest of the sentence.

“Thought what?”

“Thought... that you wanted him...”

The world suddenly fell silent. Hein released Maya and remained standing exactly where he was. Maya kept his head down, gasping for air; he knew that with a single twist of Hein’s hand, his neck would snap, and he would be truly dead.

Even as his breathing steadied, Maya could not yet summon the courage to look up and meet Hein’s gaze. Yet, perhaps by averting his eyes, he found the strength to finally voice the words he had kept bottled up inside.

“Boss! You *do* want him! I’m certain of it! Is the only reason you’ve saved him time and again—even going so far as to order me to keep an eye on him—simply because he’s a gifted tech specialist? If we truly desire something, shouldn't we clutch it in our grasp with a death grip—holding onto it so tightly that, even if it shatters, it remains ours and ours alone?”

Hein seized Maya’s chin, forcing his head upward.

He turned his head to meet his gaze.

“What I want is the *whole* him; I have no use for something that shatters so easily.”

“...Boss?” Maya stood there, dumbfounded; the Hein standing before him was a complete enigma.

“Furthermore—he is *mine*. So it is *I* who decides when to take him.”

Hein released Maya, who slumped against the wall as if drained of all strength, sinking to the floor. Hein turned and walked toward the door, pausing briefly on the threshold.

“You’re due for a little lesson, Maya.”

A look of utter misery gradually spread across Maya’s face.

Xiao Yan slept until noon—or rather, he didn't wake up naturally, but was roused by hunger. His head was throbbing; rubbing his temples, a scene flashed through Xiao Yan’s mind: himself being plied with alcohol by a bunch of Special Forces soldiers.

Damn those guys—were they trying to kill him?

Xiao Yan threw back the covers, preparing to get up, but in that instant, he sensed that something was off. He pressed his palm against the bedsheet; although all the bedding in the Special Task Force barracks was supposed to be standardized issue, still...

It was the scent! Xiao Yan lifted the blanket to his nose. That smell... In a flash, he recalled the moment the zombies attacked, when Hein had pulled him tight into his embrace. He remembered Hein’s scent—reassuring, steady, and inescapable.

Suddenly, it hit him: after getting drunk last night, it seemed Hein had been the one to bring him back!

He stood up and looked around. His shoes were placed neatly beside the bed, and he was still wearing his crumpled uniform shirt—but his trousers were nowhere to be found, leaving his legs bare.

And where had the hermit crab on his desk gone? Why had it been replaced by a neat row of paper books?

Xiao Yan stepped forward and, on impulse, picked up one of the books. He flipped through it gently, then froze in astonishment. Although the pages had yellowed with age, they had clearly been preserved with oxygen-exclusion treatment and were in excellent condition. Paper books had all but vanished in the world of *Char*, and the volume in his hands was clearly an antique of the highest caliber.

In that very moment, Xiao Yan realized: this wasn't his room at all!

“You’re awake.” The sliding door opened, and a man stood in the doorway. Xiao Yan’s shoulders gave a slight tremor; that voice was…

“Colonel Burton?”

The other man walked in unhurriedly and sat down on the sofa, leaning back slightly. Even in such a relaxed posture, Hein Burton seemed to be harboring a latent, explosive power.

Xiao Yan suddenly realized he wasn’t wearing any pants and immediately began to scramble in a panic.

“Your military trousers are in the third compartment of the wardrobe,” Hein spoke up to remind him.

Xiao Yan hurriedly opened the wardrobe; sure enough, his military trousers were hanging inside, alongside a full military uniform. Xiao Yan suddenly recalled the striptease performance by the Special Forces soldiers, and his ears instantly flushed crimson. If Hein had attended that striptease party as well, would *he* have been wearing his military uniform, too? Abruptly realizing that Hein was currently sitting on the sofa watching him, Xiao Yan hastily pulled on his trousers—but after searching for a good while, he couldn't find his belt anywhere.

At that moment, Xiao Yan was forced to recall the image of himself staggering down the corridor while holding up his pants… It seemed his belt had been left behind in the mess hall… What a disaster!

Hein, who had been sitting silently all this time, suddenly rose and walked over to Xiao Yan’s side. He unhooked the belt from the uniform hanging in the wardrobe, threaded it through Xiao Yan’s belt loops, and deftly fastened the buckle.

Xiao Yan hung his head low, holding his very breath. In this position, he was practically enveloped within the circle of Hein’s arms.

“Do you remember what I said to you last night?”

Xiao Yan froze. *Last night’s words?*

As his memories flooded back, Xiao Yan suddenly recalled the scene of himself pinning Hein down and kissing him… followed by Hein pinning him back down, and then…

“If you ever play that game with any other Special Forces soldier again, I’ll screw you to death.” Hein repeated the exact same words, verbatim.

*Screw me to death? How exactly…*