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..."

softly. "I've never done this before, so if I hurt you, let

"Okay..."

applied the ointment, feeling her touch and catching a whiff of her scent. Her

he was breathing

right away. Regret flooded him. Why had he been foolish enough

doing it too

"No..."

I

lips, sweat dripping from

kept challenging his boundaries. He looked back slightly and saw that she was kneeling behind

body, it felt extra

to realize that he was aroused. He pushed her away and quickly grabbed something to cover his

shocked. She stared at

now. It doesn't

in her hand. She was only halfway

to the room!" He chased her

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