CAR 10

Laurent abruptly intruded into the hollow line drawn between the students and himself. Dennis even felt a faint sense of kinship with him.

Vittorio was a god, Laurent a human. If Vittorio’s dance grabbed the audience by the scruff of the neck and slammed them into the realm of art, Laurent, though less seasoned in comparison, earnestly expressed a refined beauty.

“Remitte.”

“…Yes?”

“I liked your dance because it was human.”

Laurent’s eyes widened in seeming bewilderment. Dennis pushed Laurent off the platform and prepared to leave the classroom. Even though the opponent Dennis was facing at this moment was Laurent, he found it absurd that he was reflexively dwelling on Vittorio. It was a compliment by Dennis’s standards, but Laurent’s reaction was minimal.

The moment Laurent abruptly stuck his foot out at Dennis was very brief.

Dennis was defenseless. Not in the slightest had he thought that the paragon of diligence, the class president and second-in-line, would pick a fight with him like this, so he fell hard. As he fell, he grabbed hold of Laurent’s calf. Laurent, who had been looking down at Dennis dryly, tumbled to the floor with him.

Dennis clicked his tongue. Quickly getting to his feet, Dennis raised his knee and smashed it into Laurent’s face. Laurent clutched his own face with a short groan.

“I really have no luck with students.”

“…”

“You’re not planning to have a brawl… We’ve meaningfully traded one blow each, so move aside.”

The moment Dennis, who had pushed Laurent away with the tip of his foot, tried to pass him, his ankle throbbed. With a cool sensation, his knee buckled for a second. The axis of his body collapsed in an instant, and he braced himself on the floor.

Just then, the hallway became noisy. Dennis reached for the door, but there was no way he could touch it. A high-pitched laugh pooled over the crown of Dennis’s head. A syringe was stuck in Dennis’s ankle. It seemed to be a type of anesthetic that paralyzed the senses. Dennis stared blankly at the thing, which he knew well.

“You must have picked it up from the nurse’s office?”

“…”

“What a pathetic excuse for a hazing ritual…”

And unfortunately for them, Dennis was resistant to almost every kind of drug. Marquis Quercy, under the pretext of ‘education,’ had contributed greatly to turning Dennis’s body into one that even painkillers barely worked on. Dennis pulled out the syringe and threw it in Laurent’s face. Laurent, not to be outdone, swung something in his hand with great force. It was strong enough to break a skull.

Dennis, hit in the head by Laurent’s dance textbook, smashed his forehead hard against the wall. Laurent looked down at his own hand and exhaled unnaturally. At the single streak of blood flowing down the cream-colored wall, Laurent shivered slightly. The syringe had been taken from the breeding grounds. But it had no effect on Dennis Kahler.

Laurent’s biggest supporter was not something like the school scholarship. It was Yan. And Laurent wanted to earnestly gratify the whims of Yan, the master of his soul, as much as possible.

As a result of steadily complying with Yan’s schemes until now, Yan had at some point become the only dancer who could be compared to Vittorio. Even when Yan mercilessly fucked and violated Laurent, Laurent had no choice but to blindly trust Yan.

🩰

Dennis was submerged deep in something.

Judging by the familiar sensation against his forearm, it seemed to be a bathtub. He was leisurely taking a half-bath, his arm draped over the edge of the tub.

In fact, half-baths were Dennis’s sole pleasure. He quite liked the feeling of his lower body, from the waist down, being completely and numbly submerged. In Marquis Quercy’s words, ‘A half-bath is a small sea that inlanders can enjoy.’

Feeling the rippling, lukewarm water with his entire body, Dennis let out a weary sigh. For some reason, he felt excessively tormented and fatigued. It was the first time he had felt this way since childhood.

Even after several exhales, Dennis’s throat did not feel clear. It was as if his blood vessels had swollen and burst from the long bath. Dennis opened his heavy eyelids and was just about to get up.

‘Wait.’

The palm that blocked his eyelids was rough. The pressure was so strong that Dennis’s neck snapped back.

Dennis reflexively flinched his legs. Grasping the bathtub desperately, Dennis opened his mouth and retched. The person’s other hand, the one not covering his eyes, clamped over Dennis’s lips as well.

‘Shh.’

The voice and scent were familiar. Dennis knew him. He hadn’t known him for long, but he could dare to claim he had witnessed the very bottom of him. As if reading Dennis’s mind, the man muttered.

‘You dare to know me?’

‘…’

‘Poor Kahler, who doesn’t even know where the bottom begins and ends.’

He wanted to retort, but his mouth was covered. Completely sealed by the man’s palm.

‘Whether your two feet touch or not… the witless fool who can’t even tell what ground he’s standing on.’

It was a perfect insult directed at Dennis.

It was also the area where Dennis felt the most anxious. The information Marquis Quercy had provided him, as if doing him a favor, was worthless. The fear of having to pioneer and cultivate everything himself in an unknown land sometimes dominated Dennis’s entire body.

Dennis flailed in the bathtub. His two feet did not touch the bottom of the tub.

Unable to bear the bloody smell stimulating his sense of smell, Dennis violently shook off his hand. He immediately looked behind him, but the space was empty. Slowly turning his head, Dennis looked down into the bathtub. A dark red mass was seeping into the reddish surface of the water. Dennis looked straight ahead.

There, floating, was the head of his father, who had been beaten to death by Quercy and other nobles. Every time he opened his mouth, a strange lump gushed out.

Stop, stop talking… Dennis tried to cover his father’s mouth, but the head stubbornly shook and continued its message.

‘Run away.’

His father’s head sank below the surface of the water. He hastily searched beneath the water, but there was nothing he could retrieve.

When he opened his eyes at the end of a long dream, Dennis was lying on his side in the nurse’s office.

It was right after he had been knocked out by a blow to the head from the thick dance textbook Laurent had thrown.

🩰

And so, the place where Dennis opened his eyes was the nurse’s office. The care they had taken in tying him to a cot, treating him like a ‘severely mentally ill patient for whom no specific treatment could be found,’ was commendable. When he shifted his body a few times, the bed creaked. Creak.

Dennis suddenly looked down at his own body. As expected, Dennis’s pants had been removed. More terrifying than his exposed private parts were the several syringes packed tightly into his ankle.

There was no sensation below his knees. They might be planning to amputate Dennis’s lower body like this. Dennis even spotted a pair of gardening shears placed neatly on the bedside table.

It was a kidnapping whose intentions were completely incomprehensible.

As if he had heard the scream of the old iron bed, Laurent poked his head through the gap in the curtain. The face that had tried to show Dennis a minimum of courtesy was nowhere to be seen. He looked down at Dennis’s crotch and let out a long sigh. Even though Dennis was the one who wanted to sigh… Dennis’s mouth was also gagged.

“…Mr. Richter was almost certain that you were a virgin.”

“…”

“But from what I can see, you’re a slut.”

Laurent climbed on top of Dennis. He was so light that his weight was barely perceptible. However, Laurent’s shoulders seemed heavy, as if crushed by pressure. He looked down at Dennis’s member with a dumbfounded expression. Unlike Dennis, who had yet to process the situation, Laurent even looked resolute.

“So we both bet on your asshole, Mr. Kahler.”

“…”

“I pray we don’t lose the pot…”

Laurent, who had made the sign of the cross in the air, wet his middle and ring fingers with saliva. Gently massaging the backs of Dennis’s two stiff knees, Laurent bent them in a single motion.

Without giving Dennis a chance to retort or twist his body, long fingers swept over his rear. A distinct feeling of displeasure lingered between his legs. Laurent Remitte rubbed his own member clumsily against Dennis’s buttocks, like a dog in heat mounting one of its own kind.

Laurent’s impatient fingers lacked skill. His unnaturally erect middle finger parted the cheeks and jabbed around indiscriminately, but it remained stiff without making any progress. Unlike Laurent, who was breaking out in a sweat, Dennis was biting down on his tongue, trying to bite it off.

It was an absurd situation. Setting aside the fact that he was about to give his ass to a student younger than himself, he truly held Laurent’s foul mood in high regard. With a face that looked the most reluctant in the world, Laurent was now spreading saliva on his own penis, which had popped out.

However, Laurent’s expression darkened, as if he was not getting aroused. Finally, he cupped both Dennis’s and his own members in his hands at the same time. Laurent looked as serious as a primitive man using a flint. Dennis still felt no particular emotion from this act, which was completely devoid of any tension. It was a truly meaningless rape.

Laurent was not raping Dennis because he was turned on by him. He was merely going through the motions, like a lax married couple who, having carefully chosen the optimal day, have sex obligatorily once a month.

Very reluctantly, begrudgingly rubbing against him. And yet, as if troubled by his own dick that just wouldn’t get hard, Laurent let out a curse.

Dennis frantically rolled his eyes. The moment his eyes met Laurent’s, Laurent slapped him across the cheek. It was laden with emotion.

“Don’t you laugh, you son of a bitch.”

“…”

“I don’t want to fuck a slut like you either.”

Then why… Dennis retorted inwardly, steeped in regret. Looking up at Laurent’s scrawny body, he felt like a low railing that could be overcome easily enough without any help. It was the moment Laurent pressed the head of his penis against Dennis. Using the rebound, Dennis lifted his upper body and tried to slam his head into Laurent’s forehead.

But his neck was snapped first.

Soon, Laurent’s body was thrown into a corner of the nurse’s office. Laurent lost consciousness and vomited blood and saliva together, causing Dennis to blink his eyelids dozens of times to shake off the blood that had splattered in his eyes.

Beyond the unsightly, crumpled body, stood Vittorio, holding an axe. But as if the tool wasn’t even worth using, he soon became bare-handed.

Dennis’s crotch instantly became soaked. The life that had been vividly taunting him had been extinguished like a candle.

“You didn’t even pass out.”

“…”

“How admirable.”

Vittorio, who had twisted and thrown Laurent’s neck like that of a worthless bird, muttered with a blank expression.