Chapter 14 Role-Playing in Progress——…

This… this isn’t appropriate!

Shen Jichuan’s ears burned crimson.

Heavens above! What had he even bought? Having him advise Mr. Shen on what to wear was already crossing a line, but to personally help him dress?

Shen Zhi gave him no chance to reconsider. He first went to his own wardrobe and selected a black shirt, suit trousers, and a white vest, casually retrieving the barely-used cane from his injury period.

Go change.

Swallowing his protests, Shen Jichuan retreated to Shen Zhi’s bedroom, closed the door, and changed. When he emerged, he felt like his limbs no longer belonged to him.

Shen Zhi’s eyes lit up.

The eighteen-year-old’s face still carried youthful softness. Ignoring the slippers, from the ankles upward the shirt fit perfectly while the vest clung tightly to his waist, outlining a beautiful silhouette.

With some jewelry accents, he’d resemble a young medieval noble.

Shen Zhi handed him the cane: Perfect. This cane shall be your scepter—though of course, Lord Charlemagne, you may also treat it as your battle sword.

He’s already using the title?

Shen Jichuan: Brother Shen, maybe I should just explain how to wear them and you can change yourself? What I picked is really… I…

He genuinely feared his gay eyes might take advantage of Mr. Shen!

The Demon was created by Charlemagne himself. I’m not being lazy about changing—I want to witness the demon-forging process. Shen Zhi explained leisurely yet logically: Don’t worry, artists have high tolerance levels. Proceed.

When Shen Jichuan tried to protest further, Shen Zhi compromised: Rest assured, when we reach points where you’re truly uncomfortable, I’ll return to the bedroom to change.

This did little to ease Shen Jichuan’s tension. Recalling his designs, he groaned inwardly: Then… let’s start with removing your top.

Shen Zhi smiled: Very well.

Shen Jichuan turned sideways, hearing rustling clothes but not daring to look up.

For a moment, he desperately wanted to tell Mr. Shen to stop undressing—damn it, he was an eighteen-year-old high school gay boy full of youthful vigor! This was no different from a beauty dancing naked before a wolf.

That night when Mr. Shen had taken him in, using overtime during New Year as an excuse, he knew Mr. Shen had recognized he had nowhere else to go.

And how had he just happened to be found in the Safe House? Mr. Shen never explained, but he knew—Mr. Shen must have searched everywhere, walking countless roads in freezing weather just to find him.

Mr. Shen was kind-hearted, so good to him. He should confess immediately, stop this right now.

Yet his lips refused to open, his heartbeat secretly accelerating.

The uncontrollable delight and excitement whispered to him—he was eagerly anticipating adorning Mr. Shen with his carefully chosen preferences and desires.

Until he heard: Done.

Shen Jichuan’s peripheral vision caught a glimpse.

Mr. Shen’s shoulders and back stood straight and slender, his waist narrow and lean. From years without sun exposure, his skin showed a dazzling fairness adorned with two peach blossoms in the snow.

Shen Jichuan: ???

Damn it, where was he looking? How could he look there?!

Shen Jichuan forced himself to look up. In the end, he still hadn’t confessed. He felt sorrow and self-loathing for yielding to the inexplicable impulses and desires within his heart.

He tried hard to appear composed.

It’s fine. Not speaking up is for the sake of Mr. Shen’s painting. As long as he harbors no other intentions, it should be alright.

His gaze uncontrollably drifted upward from the peach blossom in the snow, meeting Mr. Shen’s frank, trusting, and utterly pure eyes: …

Shen Jichuan, oh Shen Jichuan, you truly are a beast.

Shen Zhi asked in confusion, What’s wrong? Aren’t you going to help me change?

Coming, coming.

Shen Jichuan first took out the long coat—a retro-style trench coat with a black exterior and red lining. The high collar stood upright, reminiscent of the ascetic style of a church knight.

However, the back of the coat featured an inverted triangular cutout, revealing half of the wearer’s back.

Shen Zhi asked, Won’t I wear anything underneath?

Shen Jichuan replied, You will, Brother Shen, you will.

He picked out a long black satin ribbon from the items he had purchased.

Shen Zhi asked, Are you going to blindfold me too?

Shen Jichuan coughed lightly and said, Brother Shen, spread your arms.

Shen Zhi obediently complied.

Shen Jichuan took the black satin ribbon, wrapped it around Shen Zhi’s back, then brought it to the front to cover the peach blossom petals. Finally, he tied a bow at the back cutout of the trench coat. The remaining ribbon was so long that it extended from the cutout, nearly brushing against his ankles and trailing to the ground.

Especially on the chest, the stark contrast between the deep black and the pale skin, set against the red lining of the ascetic church knight’s coat, created an intensely striking effect.

Shen Jichuan whispered, This is the ‘clothing’ worn underneath.

Shen Zhi responded, …Hmm.

Alright, that was acceptable.

Shen Zhi asked, What about the lower half?

Shen Jichuan fell into an awkward silence for a moment.

Shen Zhi: ?

Shen Jichuan murmured, Originally, there was nothing for the lower half, just a wrapped gold chain.

Shen Zhi: ??

Wrapped where?

Shen Jichuan didn’t specify where: You told me to be bold. I thought, since you’re changing alone, I added a bit of imagination. I didn’t expect…

Now it was Shen Zhi’s turn to fall silent.

He wasn’t prepared to expose himself in front of Shen Jichuan. He might not be able to control certain reactions, which would likely make the situation awkward. So he tactfully suggested, I think an excellent employee would have his Plan B.

Shen Jichuan quickly replied, Of course!

Next, Shen Jichuan untied his hair, attached the remaining accessories to Shen Zhi, and finally tore off a piece of red veil. After trimming it with scissors for a moment, he handed it to Shen Zhi and asked him to go back to the room to change.

Shen Zhi smiled and said, When I come out, you’ll be Charlemagne.

Meaning, once he emerged, they would be in character. Shen Jichuan gave an OK sign and said, Don’t worry.

Inside the room.

Shen Zhi held the red veil in his hand, wanting to sigh but instead letting out a soft laugh.

It seemed that sometimes even he couldn’t fully understand himself. He never knew that at eighteen, if he had met someone like himself, it could inspire such artistic attire.

Not wearing anything on the lower half?

Really…

Could it be that the kid imagined him painting naked in the studio outside?

It wasn’t that he couldn’t be more ‘artistic,’ but next time, he didn’t want to experiment on himself. He wanted to try it on Shen Jichuan. The young man was in good shape, flexible, and could likely adapt to more artistic poses.

Shen Zhi fastened the red veil as instructed by Shen Jichuan.

…

While waiting, Shen Jichuan took a deep breath, reminding himself that Mr. Shen’s inspiration was paramount—he must not falter. He was Charlemagne, the monarch who had slaughtered all demons under heaven, cold and unfeeling, heart like solid rock, soon to ascend the throne.

What would Charlemagne think upon seeing the demon in the mirror? What would he say?

Eliminate? Seal away? Disgust? Remain unmoved?

The bedroom door opened as Shen Zhi emerged in the changed attire.

Shen Jichuan was caught off guard by the full sight, his pupils involuntarily contracting—as if Charlemagne himself had torn away the red velvet cloth covering the mirror, confronting his own demonic reflection for the first time—

The puritanical Templar-style coat appeared impeccably formal, yet its back featured a cut-out fastened with a bow, long black satin ribbons trailing along the floor.

They resembled two soft, eerie tails, or a gift begging to be unwrapped.

A crimson ear cuff clasped his right ear’s cartilage and lobe.

Another ear clip was not worn on the ear but clipped at the very center of the black satin ribbon concealing the petals over his chest, a teardrop-shaped blood-red gem shimmering like flames burning in the night.

A golden collar encircled his neck, its center shaped like a heart-shaped lock.

A delicate gold chain wrapped around his slender waist, draping over the layers of blood-red sheer fabric veiling his legs.

The demon’s eyes in the mirror were also covered by a red veil two fingers wide, black hair cascading messily yet smoothly around his neck—as if stepping through dimensions, the embodiment of desire from tales now stood quietly before him.

Even motionless and silent, it posed an immense trial for the master of those desires.

This was the ‘doll’ he had personally adorned, the demon forged by Charlemagne’s own hands, bearing the darkest, most depraved desires of his heart.

Shen Jichuan’s gaze fell upon Shen Zhi’s lips, suddenly feeling a tinge of regret—the demon’s lip color was far too pale.

He said, Are you the gift from the Demon King to me? Using the desires I severed as a present—is this mockery?

Shen Zhi: Are you the gift from the Demon King to me? Using the desires I severed as a present—is this mockery?

Shen Jichuan: Answer me.

Shen Zhi: Answer me.

The mirror demon seemed utterly naive, barely possessing intellect, merely parroting each phrase as if it couldn’t even speak.

As a monarch, Charlemagne should not let his guard down; he ought to slay the mirror demon immediately, destroy his own desires.

Yet he found himself involuntarily drawing closer—being drawn to oneself was instinctual, no matter how wretched the other self might be, it was still a part of him.

Shen Jichuan could clearly see, beneath the thin red veil, Mr. Shen’s concealed eyelashes fluttering faintly.

For a moment, he truly felt he had become Charlemagne.

Because what Mr. Shen wore now reflected his own tastes and desires.

As if bewitched, Shen Jichuan murmured, You are a peace offering from the enemy. I could keep you within the mirror.

Shen Zhi: You are a peace offering from the enemy. I could keep you within the mirror.

If this was about seeking inspiration, would Mr. Shen continue mimicking him like this?

Was there a hidden scenario yet to be triggered? Shen Jichuan pondered, edging even closer.

He didn’t realize they were already exceedingly near—so close that Shen Zhi could perceive his quicker-than-usual breaths.

Shen Jichuan caught the faint scent from Shen Zhi’s hair, his gaze drifting over his shoulder to glimpse the smooth back and the bow.

He thought of the pale pink he had personally concealed, his mind beginning to wander. He cursed himself inwardly out of habit, yet his tone remained steady as he feigned insight: I’ve seen through your tricks. Speak—what is your true purpose?

I’ve seen through your tricks. Speak—what is your true purpose? The Demon in the mirror showed no reaction, merely repeating his words.

Stop pretending.

Stop pretending.

For a moment, Shen Jichuan felt this was mockery—that the mirror Demon had already detected the burgeoning darkness stirring within him, telling him to stop pretending.

He seemed to channel Charlemagne’s simmering anger: As my shadow self, you cannot fail to understand what I mean.

As my shadow self, you cannot fail to understand what I mean.

Silence.

Silence.

Just as Charlemagne frowned, the mirror Demon’s fingertip suddenly extended—a subtle movement, yet Charlemagne abruptly retreated half a step.

But ultimately, he restrained himself, wanting to see what the Demon intended to do.

The Demon’s fingertip held no lethal intent—pale and soft, it lightly touched Charlemagne’s chest, tracing a faint circle before pressing at its center.

Charlemagne pressed a hand over his own heart.

He spoke slowly.

You’re tempting me.

Yes.

The corner of the mirror Demon’s lips lifted slightly. No longer parroting words, he leaned forward instead, making the monarch’s eyes widen momentarily.

I am tempting you.

He tilted his head slightly, warm breath brushing against the ear of this soon-to-be-crowned monarch:

Can you hear it? Your heart is beating so fast.

Shen Jichuan’s pupils trembled faintly, the blood in his veins boiling instantly. His eardrums throbbed as if hearing the suddenly runaway heartbeat of Monarch Charlemagne.

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