Chapter 121: Asher Acts Cute to Stop Me From Going Out

Chapter 121: Chapter 121: Asher Acts Cute to Stop Me From Going Out

"Cece..." I had just hung up the phone when Asher started his performance.

"It hurts." Asher lifted his hand, showing me the wound on his wrist.

’He must have overheard my call with Erin Whittaker and is now trying to find a way to stop me from leaving.’

"Didn’t the doctor already treat it?" I took Asher’s wrist and glanced at it. "If you knew it would hurt, why did you hurt yourself?"

Asher looked at me with a wronged expression and spoke softly. "Cece, why don’t we move out and live together?"

’He didn’t want me to keep living with the Lancaster family.’

’Let the old master fend for himself in the Lancaster home.’

"We have a home." He looked at me, his gaze firm, trying to tell me that *this* was our home.

Only then did I finally come to my senses and turn to look at my surroundings.

Not only was the yard planted with my favorite flowers, but the interior was also decorated entirely to my liking.

’It seemed he really had been trying so hard, all this time, just to have a home with me.’

"Asher... a place like this can’t be cheap. Did you buy it or rent it?" I asked, my suspicion piqued.

Asher’s eyes darted away for a second. "Rented..."

I said, "Oh." ’That seems reasonable enough.’ "If you don’t want to go back to the Lancaster family, we’ll stay here."

’As the heir to the Lancaster family, Sebastian Lancaster’s monthly trust payments could definitely cover the rent.’

Asher was overjoyed, and now there was no sign his wound hurt at all.

"The wounds on your foot and calf haven’t fully healed. If you keep hurting yourself, I’ll leave." I used my leaving as a threat. ’Surely he’d take that seriously?’

Sure enough, Asher was terrified. He looked at me nervously and abruptly pulled me into his arms, hugging me tight. "You can’t leave..."

"Then you have to stop hurting yourself."

Asher didn’t say a word, just held me and refused to let go.

"I have to go out tonight. You be good and get some sleep, and I’ll come straight here to be with you later," I said softly again, coaxing him tentatively.

I still haven’t recalled many memories of my time with Asher, yet the memory of our first meeting as children feels as though it’s been seared into my very soul.

’If Asher and everything about the orphanage were truly such important people and memories to me, why did I forget only them?’

’Erin Whittaker was also from the orphanage. In the single childhood memory I have left, the girl who led the others in saying my dress was pretty must have been the deceased Mindy Foster. And the one who always followed Mindy, the one who looked frail but always watched with cold detachment, even gloating at others’ misfortune—that was Erin Whittaker.’

’Even as a child, Erin Whittaker was manipulative to her very core.’

On the way back, I had asked Howard Finch about the incident back then—when Cecilia Caldwell was bullied for wearing a red dress and several boys were beaten up. In my memory, Howard hadn’t participated; he hadn’t been one of the ones tearing at my clothes.

Howard Finch’s reply was that back then, Cecilia Caldwell’s father had been discussing sponsoring the orphanage with the director, only for his own daughter to be bullied by the children there. Afterwards, the director had severely punished Asher and the kids who bullied Cecilia, but Erin Whittaker alone was never implicated.

’This proved that even from a young age, Erin Whittaker was a clever manipulator, skilled at sowing discord.’

"Cece! It really hurts." The arms Asher had around me suddenly tightened. "Don’t go out, Cece. Please stay with me, okay?"

I looked at Asher suspiciously. ’Did he overhear my call, or does he know what might happen tonight?’

"Asher, I have to go out for a bit." ’I also want to find out the truth and recover my memories.’

’At the very least, I can’t just get to know him again in this muddled, confused state.’

’It’s not fair to Asher, and it’s not fair to me.’

"Cece, I’m thirsty," Asher said, changing the subject.

Resigned, I had no choice but to go get him some water.

The moment I left, Asher’s gaze darkened. Seeing the caller ID on my phone screen read "Julian Fletcher," Asher blocked the number without a second thought.

The villa Asher lived in was huge, yet a house this large didn’t have a single housekeeper.

Asher didn’t like having people around; only an old butler was outside, helping him tend to the yard.

I poured a glass of warm water, brought it into the room, and discovered that Asher had a fever.

He was curled up on the bed, without even a blanket covering him.

I felt a wave of sadness. ’He’s so bad at taking care of himself. How on earth did he get by all these years?’

"Cece..." I was about to get a thermometer for him when Asher grabbed my wrist, pulled me onto the bed, and held me in his arms.

’How can he be so strong when he’s sick?’

’He really does have the brute strength of an ox...’

"I’m scared," he whispered, letting out a muffled grunt as he held me tighter. He finally remembered to use the blanket, wrapping us both up in it. He didn’t forget to lift his long legs to cage me in, terrified that I would run away.

"What are you afraid of?" I asked, confused.

"I’m afraid of sleeping alone..." ’Afraid that he’ll wake up and the dream will be over.’

"Cece, which do you think is the real world? The dream, or reality?" Asher whispered.

"Who’s to say?" I was at a loss, too.

"Do you know why, when we remember the past, it’s always from a God’s-eye view?" Asher whispered to me.

His question stumped me.

’Recalling my childhood memories, it did seem like it was always from a God’s-eye view.’

"Is it possible that the ’us’ who returns to that point in time is no longer the real ’us’..." Asher’s voice was deep, and the arms holding me tightened slightly.

I mulled over his words for a long time but couldn’t make sense of them.

’This must be the kind of thinking that separates madmen and geniuses, something an ordinary person like me can’t comprehend.’

"Have some water?" I coaxed softly. When I turned to look at him, he was already asleep.

’It seemed he could always fall asleep quickly whenever he was with me.’

His eyelashes were long and slender, and his skin was so smooth you couldn’t see a single pore. He was flawlessly beautiful.

’It was almost infuriating. He’d been a vagrant for so long, wearing ill-fitting clothes, yet his skin was still this perfect—far better than the faces of people who spent hundreds of thousands a year on skincare products.’

There was a light fragrance in the room, something like sandalwood. It was an indescribable scent that made one drowsy.

I don’t remember how I fell asleep, but being held like that by Asher, I drifted off quickly.

I don’t know how long I slept. When I opened my eyes, it was ten o’clock...

The sky was completely dark, and Asher was gone from the room.

My heart sank. I picked up my phone. ’Erin Whittaker hadn’t called?’

Only when I unlocked my phone did I realize it had been set to Do Not Disturb.

’It was Asher...’

"Where’s Asher?"

The sprawling villa was dim and silent.

There was no housekeeper in the villa, only the butler, who was still out in the yard pulling weeds.

"Excuse me, where is Sebastian Lancaster?" I asked nervously.

The butler was elderly. I couldn’t tell if he was hard of hearing or had a hearing impairment, but he just glanced at me before resuming his weeding.

’It’s ten o’clock at night, and he’s still pulling weeds.’

A large dog emerged from the flower bushes and lay down obediently at my feet.

The big fella didn’t look fierce at all. Its ears were pricked like a wolf’s, but its large eyes were adorable and pitiful.

For some reason, it made me think of Asher...

"Sir, where is Sebastian Lancaster?" I asked again.

The old man put down his hoe and told me in sign language that he didn’t know.

I couldn’t understand sign language, so I had no choice but to call Owen Foster.

’Today, Erin Whittaker agreed to help the police lure out the murderer. Please don’t let Asher show up...’

Assistant Foster didn’t pick up, so I tried calling Zeke Shaw.

Zeke Shaw didn’t answer either. ’He must be keeping an eye on Erin Whittaker right now.’

’They have to make sure nothing happens to Erin Whittaker.’

’As long as Erin Whittaker was alive, the killer had held back.’

’That’s why the killer is more desperate than anyone, chomping at the bit for Erin Whittaker to die.’

"Silvia Lynch, why are you too scared to come?" I had called Erin Whittaker, and she sounded terrified on the other end. "Silvia Lynch, where are you? He’s got his eyes on me... Help me! Please, I don’t want to die!"

I looked at my phone and suddenly laughed. ’What’s this, Erin Whittaker? Are you finally feeling the same despair I felt right before I died?’