Persephone had never witnessed the cruelty of life, nor had she fathomed the extent to which it could push a person. While her brother, back in the Hamertons, had a boxing trainer to enhance his physique as a personal interest, Morpheus engaged in it for survival.

The realization hit her, and a wave of sadness washed over Persephone, prompting tears to fall.

She struggled to speak, her voice choked. "Who... was it... Who subjected you to such brutality... Does it... hurt?"

Morpheus' heart tightened at her words. Slowly, he turned to face her, questioning if the glistening tears on her face were for him. Touched by the unspoken emotion, he refrained from expressing it overtly.

After a prolonged silence, he handed her a bottle of ointment. In the darkness, his deep voice resonated. "I can't reach my back, indeed. Please apply this for me."

Persephone was taken aback. Wiping away her tears, she accepted the bottle. As she ceased crying, he softened his demeanor.

In the quiet house, only the rhythmic beats of their hearts echoed. The heartbeats, akin to two embers in the night, drew closer.

Having never cared for anyone in this way, Persephone felt awkward. Despite her clumsiness, she endeavored to be gentle, moving softly yet inadvertently tickling his wound and his heart.

"Should I rub the ointment?" she asked.

Morpheus snapped back to reality, blushed, and replied, "Okay..."

said softly. "I've never done this before,

"Okay..."

of her scent. Her tenderness became a form of torment, so agonizing that

breathing heavily. "Are

it right away. Regret flooded him. Why

I doing it too

"No..."

can I do it

sweat

she was kneeling behind him. Her fair legs were revealed

in his body, it felt extra

He pushed her away and quickly

She stared at the emotional

now. It doesn't hurt

at the cotton wool in her hand. She was only halfway

go to the room!" He chased her away loudly. "Go

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