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Bo Li’s expression was very serious; she was not joking.
She was truly exhausted and wished to sleep beside Erik for a while, planning to deal with the great trouble of the nanny after waking.
Of course, what she meant by “sleep” was merely literal—nothing else.
She held no designs toward Erik—though she knew that in the nineteenth century, when lifespans were short, men of his age could already marry and beget children under their parents’ witness. In her eyes, he was still no more than a high school boy.
If he were living in the modern era, he would probably be in his first or second year of high school—so intelligent as he was, he might even have skipped grades and entered university.
With that thought, the fear in her heart suddenly lessened.
Yet Erik thought she was mocking him.
Before her words even fell completely, he had already drawn a dagger and thrust it fiercely into the pillow beside her, staring down coldly at her from above.
He did not know how many times he had been ridiculed in such a way; he loathed such “jests.”
Inside the white mask, his breathing abruptly grew heavier.
Bo Li could almost picture it—his angered, scorching breath swelling and accumulating within the mask until it condensed into droplets of water that slid down slowly.
She swallowed, her throat tightening slightly. On the surface she appeared calm, but in truth, she was nearly unable to control her bladder, just like the nanny.
If they ever grew familiar enough to converse normally, she must make him change this habit of brandishing a dagger at the slightest moment.
“…You have misunderstood me,” she said with difficulty. “I sincerely hope you can stay and sleep beside me for a while.”
The air seemed to solidify.
Erik’s gaze remained cold upon her.
Under that stare, her scalp tingled and the hairs over her whole body stood on end.
She suddenly realized—perhaps Erik had never believed her, nor ever intended to cooperate with her.
That kiss had indeed shocked him, even left him flustered, but he quickly understood that such things came with a price.
He might submit to a kiss, but not to one with a clear price tag and false sentiment.
Cold sweat broke out across Bo Li’s body in an instant.
She nearly forgot—though he seemed cold and hollow, like a soulless wax figure, he possessed an exceptionally keen mind.
What others required a month to learn, he could master at a glance. Naturally, he could also see through her rhetoric in an instant.
The fortunate thing was, for reasons unknown, he had punished the nanny who had harmed her.
Perhaps he wished to repay her sympathy, even if that sympathy had ulterior motives; perhaps he simply needed someone upon whom to vent his inner thirst for killing.
As for whether his punishment would plunge her into even greater trouble—such matters were beyond his consideration.
Countless thoughts rushed in and out of Bo Li’s mind, yet none could resolve the present predicament.
After a pause, she gritted her teeth, making up her mind—so be it, she must first keep him here.
If a kiss could not hold him, then what about an embrace?
Each time she had stirred a change in his gaze, it was always due to physical contact.
He was withdrawn, eccentric, and exceedingly vigilant. Those around him felt deep aversion merely at the mention of his name—how could physical contact with such a person be possible?
Perhaps an embrace might close the distance between them.
Bo Li felt she was playing a perilous game—he held a dagger in hand, each movement wholly unpredictable. To embrace a man like him was no different from courting death.
Yet if she simply let him leave, abandoning her in a room with the gravely wounded nanny, she too would not be far from death.
No longer hesitating, Bo Li leaned forward and clasped him in a heavy embrace.
For an instant, time seemed to stand still.
Erik’s movements froze.
His rough breathing vanished.
Bo Li’s chest tightened so hard it nearly spasmed; she was far from calm. No one could guess what Erik was thinking. At any moment, he might drive his dagger into her back. The mere thought of it made her legs go weak.
Fortunately, her gamble was correct.
He could not resist physical contact.
She could feel the tension and release in the muscles of his arm, as though he wavered between pushing her away, killing her, or simply maintaining the moment as it was.
He was thin—far thinner than she had imagined—almost nothing but a collection of sharp bones, like a great predator in the wild, hungry yet still muscular.
Such a man could, with one hand, subdue a strong, sturdy woman—or just as easily be trapped by an embrace carrying hidden intent.
A strange feeling stirred in Bo Li’s heart; she could not tell whether it was sympathy or something else.
She did not know how much time had passed when Erik suddenly moved—he allowed her to hold him, bent forward, and drew out the dagger. The blade tilted slightly, pressing against her back.
In that instant, her heart nearly stopped, her blood froze—she thought she would never again see the sun rise.
Fortunately, he merely brushed the blade against her back, then slid it back into his boot.
Bo Li let out a fierce breath of relief, as though her throat, gripped tight, had suddenly been released. She nearly blacked out.
…Whatever the case, she had won her wager.
He had not left, and she was still alive.
“Thank you…”
Bo Li herself did not know what she was thanking him for. Having just been snatched back from the brink of death, the words spilled out uncontrollably.
Had she known life would be like this, she would not have chosen to be an actress, but would have enrolled in an animal-taming course, or gone to a wildlife park as a volunteer.
“Lie down for a while first,” Bo Li wiped away tears born of instinct. “I will stop her bleeding. She cannot die here—I still have questions for her.”
Erik made no reply.
The nanny had already fainted from blood loss. Bo Li sprinkled hemostatic powder into her palm, then fed her an ibuprofen to prevent fever, dehydration, and shock, before lying down on the bed.
Fearing that Erik might change his mind in the night and stab her with a single stroke, she buried her head into his chest and clasped his arm tightly, unwilling to let go.
Perhaps because he truly longed for physical closeness, the night passed without harm—she was safe, limbs intact.
The nanny awoke too, staring at them both with a peculiarly strange expression.
Bo Li drew out the golden pocket watch and glanced at the time—five o’clock in the morning. There was still a while before the others awoke.
The nanny, seeing the golden pocket watch in her possession, widened her eyes in disbelief.
Bo Li paid no heed to the nanny’s gaze. She rose lightly from the sleeping bag, but no matter how careful her movements, Erik awakened—or perhaps he had never slept at all.
A single night had been enough for her to recover from the terror of walking the knife’s edge between life and death.
Even so, when she met his eyes, her calves still trembled slightly. “…Are you hungry?”
No reply.
Bo Li had already grown used to his silence. “I want to ask the nanny some questions… about you. Do you mind? If you do, then I will not ask.”
No reply, no movement.
That meant he allowed it.
Bo Li let out a soft sigh of relief.
Excellent.
She could not always rely on guessing his intentions.
To gain control over him was no easy task—she had to learn more about his background.
After a moment’s thought, Bo Li walked to the pile of soiled clothing, avoiding the nanny’s line of sight. She found the first-aid kit and took out an energy bar.
Chocolate flavored—hopefully to his liking.
She tore open the wrapper, broke it in half, and held one piece out to him. “It’s sweet, it will restore your strength. We’ll share it half each, shall we?”
Bo Li took the first bite.
Erik fixed his gaze on the chocolate for a long while before finally reaching out to take it.
Since chocolate already existed in this era, he was not puzzled as to what it was. Instead, he lowered his head and carefully inhaled its scent.
Dozens of seconds passed before he tilted his head slightly, pushed up one corner of his mask, and revealed a small section of his jaw as he opened his mouth and ate the bar.
It was the first time Bo Li had seen even a part of his true face beneath the mask—though it was only his jaw and lips. He did not appear grotesque; his jaw was lean and sharply cut, his lips pale, almost blending with his skin.
Judging by the line of his jaw alone, he could indeed be called handsome.
She wondered which version of his disfigurement this was—whether, as in the original novel, he looked skeletal, or whether, like in the musical, at least half his face was still intact.
With tact, Bo Li made no comment on his jaw.
The hour was still early. She decided first to close the distance between herself and Erik, then later interrogate the nanny.
Bo Li sat down and, testing the waters, reached out little by little until she clasped his wrist.
Erik lowered his head, looking at her fingers, yet did not withdraw his hand.
Bo Li quietly exhaled, her relief hidden, and whispered, “Let me tell you a secret.”
No response.
“When I awoke, I had forgotten many things… I don’t even remember who I am, nor why I stole the golden pocket watch to frame you. All I could find were my own diary, and a strangely shaped bag… The diary warned me not to approach you, that you were dangerous. But for some reason, I cannot help but feel that you can be trusted.”
“Perhaps you will kill me in the end,” she said, “but I will not blame you, because it was my choice—my choice to approach you, to befriend you. I can feel that your heart is not evil—”
She held out her injured hand, the bruises already swollen into a dreadful purple-red:
“When you saw I was hurt, your first reaction was to avenge me… You did not even know whether my approach, my kindness, held some ulterior motive, and yet you acted so. If you are a bad person, then I do not know what a good person could be.”
Bo Li fixed her gaze upon him. “I do not know what you have been through, nor will I judge your past. But I wish to understand you more—to be your friend. May I?”
A long silence.
Erik stared at her palm, lost in some unfathomable thought.
At last, a voice sounded beside her ear: “…Why.”
Bo Li’s head shot up in surprise.
He had spoken!
So stunned was she that she could not even describe the tone of his voice, only that it was clear, pure, and beautiful—nearly the most beautiful boy’s voice she had ever heard.
It took her a long moment to recover her own voice: “Because you make me feel safe.”
It was the truth.
Even if he might kill her at any time, still, his presence gave her a twisted sense of safety.
Perhaps because he was the only being in this era whom she understood.
She even knew the trajectory of his fate—that one day he would dwell in the subterranean labyrinth of Paris, and fall in love with a ballerina named Christine.
Just then, a derisive laugh rang out.
Bo Li turned toward the sound. It was the nanny—at some point she had spat out the gag, and now she gazed at them with ceaseless cold laughter.
Perhaps wary of Erik, she did not scream nor thrash as she had the day before. Instead, she raised her chin high, her eyes filled with loathing and fear as she regarded them.
Bo Li moved swiftly. She snatched up the fire tongs lying in the corner and aimed them at the nanny’s head. “Without our permission, you will make no sound. Otherwise, I will not hesitate to let you suffer a little.”
The nanny glared at her, humiliation burning in her eyes. After a long moment, she swallowed her anger and gave a grudging nod.
Bo Li lowered the tongs. “It seems you have something to say. Speak.”
Granted leave, the nanny immediately let out a weak, derisive laugh. “You think you have found yourself a good friend, one who will help you right your wrongs… Have you never wondered why he did not speak before, why he has no friends?”
“…” This was clearly an attempt to sow discord. Bo Li could not simply play along. After some thought, she jested, “Because he is rather introverted?”
The nanny looked at her as though at a fool. “He can speak—and he can speak in more than ten languages. We found him in Persia. According to the locals, when he became a renowned master of trapdoors and hidden passages, he was not yet fourteen… Yet no one there dared speak with him, nor even mention him. Do you know why?”
Bo Li vaguely recalled this from the original novel, but she had read it so hastily that such details were long forgotten.
Her hesitation was taken by the nanny as fear. With another cold laugh, she continued:
“Because he is a freak, a devil. The locals called him the ‘Living Corpse’… With his trapdoors and hidden passages, he could appear behind anyone at any time. No one wished to stay in the company of such a man—even if he was a rare genius!”
“But our manager defied such superstition, believing he could surely become the circus’s golden goose,” the nanny said between breaths. “In the three months since he came, we did indeed earn much money. But misfortune followed as well… First, Mike’s watch was stolen. Then, from the sky, some strange bag fell—a bag no knife could cut open… And now my hand has ended up like this…”
The nanny gave a cold laugh, her wheezing breath hissing like a serpent’s voice:
“If this is not proof that he is a devil, a monster who brings misfortune—then what could be proof? Do you see my hand? Today he can pierce my hand, and tomorrow he can pierce yours—”
All three incidents were connected to her.
Superstitions ruin people, Bo Li thought, and then stuffed the rag back into the nanny’s mouth.