Ethan did not know how he fell asleep. The next moment he opened his eyes, he found the room had become dimmer and time had passed. He yawned and stretched.
He then noticed Damien was still at his desk, flipping through documents, his expression cold and serious. It was like he was a working machine, like he had not moved an inch since he sat there.
But soon, Ethan realized Damien's hand was rubbing his temples. His brows were furrowed tightly, and his face looked pale, as if he was enduring some unbearable headache.
According to the plot, ever since Damien's meridians were shattered, he had begun to suffer from constant pain. Sometimes sharp, sometimes dull, but always there—reminding him of what he had lost.
In the past, he had searched everywhere for help. He had visited Spirit Physicians, who specialized in nurturing damaged meridians. He had sought Mystic Healers, known for using ancient techniques and spiritual herbs. He had even met with Soul Channelers, rare experts who could transfer their own vitality to mend another's body.
But none of them could heal him. Every attempt ended in disappointment, and every failure only deepened the cracks in his pride.
To this very day, Damien remained uncured, bound to his pain like a prisoner. Yet he carried it all with the same cold face, refusing to let the world see his weakness.
Ethan sighed. Being the male lead really does come with a price.
He pushed himself up from the sofa. "Let me help you."
Damien looked up, catching sight of Ethan approaching with his arms stretched. His eyes narrowed.
"What do you think you are doing?" Damien's chair rolled back slightly as he dodged, his tone cold. He disliked being touched by people—always had.
Ethan twitched his lips. "Just stay still."
Before Damien could react, Ethan leaned closer and gently pressed his fingers against Damien's temples. His movements were steady and skillful, not random at all.
Damien frowned at first, ready to shove him away, but then… something strange happened. The tightness in his head began to ease little by little. Ethan's hands were soft and warm, carrying a rhythm that soothed the pain he thought could not be soothed.
How does he know that technique?
In truth, Ethan had once been a physician in his previous life. His master—a mysterious, eccentric old man—had taught him the traditional art of treating the body through pressure points and energy flow. But in the modern world he came from, such methods were considered outdated, even useless. Everyone trusted machines, pills, and hospitals.
So, despite his skills, Ethan had lived quietly in the shadows, unrecognized and overlooked.
Who knew these skills would actually come in handy?
"How are you feeling now?" Ethan asked, his tone unusually professional, as if he had done this countless times before.
Damien didn't answer. He sat there quietly, eyes half-closed, the tension on his face easing little by little.
"Bro?" Ethan called out, tilting his head.
Damien snapped out of his daze, his lashes trembling slightly. He gave a low hum in response, "Mm."
Ethan's gaze unconsciously drifted downward to Damien's legs. They rested motionless against the wheelchair, covered neatly by his tailored trousers.
How does it feel… to not feel your own legs? Ethan wondered. The feeling must be terrible…
In his previous world, he had seen patients struggle with hopeless conditions. Back then, he could only sigh, limited by how much people trusted his methods. But here… here things were different.
Maybe my skills might actually help him…
With that thought, Ethan knelt down in front of the wheelchair.
Damien blinked, startled, his cold, expressionless face finally cracking to show a flicker of emotion.
"What are you doing?!" His voice was cold and sharp, carrying a warning.
"Just trust me," Ethan replied calmly. He gently lifted Damien's leg and began to straighten it before placing his hand over the stiff muscles, pressing lightly, then rubbing in slow circles.
The moment Ethan touched him, he noticed it right away—his legs were colder than the rest of his body, lacking warmth and circulation. The muscles were stiff, tense from long periods of disuse, and some parts had even begun to thin.
Poor blood flow, loss of sensation, and no proper stimulation… Ethan noted mentally. If this continues, the damage will spread deeper. His condition isn't just about shattered meridians—his body is slowly giving up.
His fingers pressed along certain points, feeling for any hidden reaction. Nothing. Not even the faintest twitch. But that didn't discourage him. Instead, it only made his resolve firmer.
I'll need to stimulate his meridians and muscles together. It won't be easy, but if I combine massage, pressure points, and a bit of spiritual guidance… maybe there's a chance.
Ethan's expression grew serious, as he continued to analyze.
With the help of his acupuncture skills and his so-called special blood, the male lead would be standing tall again in no time… or so Ethan hoped. Hopefully before he actually died.
Damien, on the other hand, looked down at the young man kneeling before him with an unreadable expression. There was no disgust in Ethan's eyes, no mockery, not even pity. For the first time in a long while, someone was looking at him as if he was just… normal.
A soft chime echoed in Ethan's mind.
Ding! Favorability value -79.
Ethan blinked. Wait… it went up? By one point?
He stared at the floating number in disbelief. What even is a favorability value? Is it like… a friendship score or something?
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. So… is this like a game? If he rose the friendship value, will the male lead stop wanting to kill him?
Just then, the door opened and a tall young man with colorful hair and black studs in his ears strolled in.
"Yoo, Damy, I have come to see you—"
He froze mid-sentence. His eyes widened as he took in the scene before him.
Damien was sitting in his wheelchair, his face faintly pink, staring down in a daze. Meanwhile, a petite young man with a slightly round stomach was kneeling in front of him, hands pressed against his legs.
The colorful-haired youth blinked. Wait a minute… what is this situation?
No matter how he looked at it, it looked… strange. Too strange.
"I'm sorry. I didn't see anything. Please, continue what you were doing," he said, lips curving into a knowing smirk.
Before leaving, he even had the audacity to wink at Damien, mouthing, Take your time.
Slowly, he closed the door with exaggerated care.
Inside the room—
Damien: "…"
Ethan: "…"
Silence stretched.
Ethan scratched his head awkwardly. "Uh… do you think he misunderstood something?"
Damien's expression darkened instantly.