Riley woke up 7 in the morning. No matter how tired he is or how late he sleep . He woke up at 7 a.m.
Riley woke up at exactly 7:00 a.m. No matter how exhausted he was or how late he went to sleep, his internal clock was unforgiving.
His whole body ached. Sleeping upright against a wall on a cold floor was a mistake he was feeling in every joint.
As he rubbed his sore neck, the first thing he noticed was the man's face. For a split second, Riley was confused, but then the memories of last night came rushing back.
He immediately reached out and placed a hand on the man's forehead. The skin was cool. The fever had broken. The man was still sleeping peacefully, chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths.
The man looked ethereal in the morning light that filtered through the small, high window of the store-room.
Unconsciously, Riley had given him a nickname.
Angel.
The man's beauty was unreal—ethereal, almost sacred. Even now, Riley wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him.
Riley got up, stretched his stiff limbs until his back popped, and went to the bathroom. He took a quick, cold bath to wake himself up and changed into clean but faded clothes. Then, he headed to the kitchen.
There was no sound from Lucas's room. His younger brother was a heavy sleeper, but Riley knew he had to be careful.
It would be best to get this man to a hospital before Lucas wakes up. I need to see Mom at the hospital today, too.
He prepared a simple breakfast of hot congee. Once it was ready, he set a bowl aside and returned to his room. The "Angel" was still motionless. Riley knelt beside the mattress and reached out a hand.
" Mister, " Riley said softly." Wake up."
Before his fingers could touch skin—
The " Angel's" eyes snapped open.
In one swift motion, a hand closed around Riley's throat and slammed him onto the mattress. The man hovered over him, pinning him down, movements sharp and precise.
Golden eyes bore into him.
Sharp and piercing.
The serene expression was gone, replaced by something cold and lethal.
Riley gasped, his heart hammering against his ribs. The man was still beautiful, but now he felt like a blade pressed against Riley's skin. One wrong move, and Riley knew this man wouldn't hesitate to kill him.
"Who do you work for?" the man asked in a low, husky growl. He pressed his thumb against Riley's windpipe. "What were your orders?"
Riley's head spun. "What... what are you talking about?" he managed to wheeze.
"Speak!"
The man tightened his grip. Air was cut off instantly. Riley's face began to turn a panicked shade of red. He clawed at the man's hand, but it was like trying to move a statue. Despite being injured and feverish all night, the stranger possessed an overwhelming, unnatural strength.
"N-no one," Riley gasped, "I swear." tears of pain and fear pricking his eyes.
"Do you think I'll believe a 'coincidence' like this?"
"I... I really... don't know..." Riley's vision began to blur. A single tear escaped, sliding down his temple and soaking into the mattress.
The man froze.
For a long moment, golden eyes studied Riley's face.
Then the hand withdrew.
Air rushed back into Riley's lungs, causing him to go into a fit of violent coughing. He scrambled back into the corner of the room, clutching his throat and trembling. His eyes were rimmed with red as he stared at the stranger in horror.
"Where did you find me?" the man asked, his voice cold enough to freeze the room.
"In the alley... right outside," Riley mumbled, his voice hoarse.
The man surveyed the tiny, cramped room—the peeling wallpaper, the cheap study table. His distrust remained, but it was joined by a flicker of confusion, which he hid quickly.
"How long have I been here?"
"Since last night."
The man went silent, his mind clearly working through a series of calculations. "Give me your phone. Then get out."
"Excuse me?" Riley asked, bewildered. This was his room, his house, and his phone. The man was acting like a king in a peasant's hut.
But the death stare the man gave him offered no room for argument. Riley reached for his phone on the study table and handed it over. The man took it with a look of disdain for the cracked screen.
Riley stood up slowly and walked out, closing the door with trembling hands. He leaned against the wood and took a shaky breath. "He's definitely a demon in an angel disguise." he whispered to himself.
He went to the kitchen and drank a glass of water greedily, trying to soothe his aching throat. He looked at the extra bowl of congee he had prepared. He felt like an idiot for being so caring.
One problem after another…
His mother was still in the hospital. Otherwise, she might have heard everything.
I need to get him out before Lucas wakes up.
After ten minutes, Riley knocked softly on his own door.
"Come in," the man's voice called out.
Riley entered and saw the man sitting up, holding a small, silver photo frame he had taken from Riley's drawer. Riley's blood ran cold. He lunged forward and snatched the frame away.
"You shouldn't touch other people's things without permission!"
"You touched me without permission," the man countered, his golden eyes narrowing. "And I despise being touched. Are you prepared for the consequences of your action?"
"What?" Riley snapped. "I changed your shirt and bandaged your arm. That's it. You were unconscious. Should I have left you to bleed in an alley?"
The man ignored him and tossed the phone back. Riley caught it against his chest, terrified of another crack forming.
"You should have just handed it to me," Riley muttered. He set the tray down on the floor. "Here. Eat the congee. Then you should go to the hospital."
The man looked at the bowl as if it were filled with poison. "Take it away."
"It's not poisoned," Riley sighed. To prove it, he grabbed the spoon and took two large mouthfuls of the porridge.
"See? I haven't spit in it, and I'm not dead. Eat."
The "Angel" stared at the spoon, then at Riley. Finally, he took the bowl. He ate with an elegance that didn't belong in a storage room, finishing the entire portion in silence.