His Obsession Began After Losing Her-Chapter 88: Feeding Noran

Sigmund stepped into Noran's room, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he took in the scene. Unlike the previous day, Noran was now restrained in an imposing, grand chair, one fit for a king.

The sturdy design ensured Noran wouldn't topple over during his struggles, a deliberate improvement orchestrated by Sigmund.

Its rich, dark wood and plush cushions seemed grotesquely out of place in the context of Noran's imprisonment. The regal chair was a stark contrast to the chains that bound him, securing his hands to the armrests and his legs to the chair's sturdy legs.

Noran sat in the chair, his head hanging down, appearing lifeless. It was a stark contrast to his usual defiant glare.

"Good morning, Mr. Kingston," Sigmund greeted, walking over and standing before him with his usual sneer.

Seeing Noran's head still bowed, Sigmund leaned in closer and removed the gag from his mouth.

"Has the poison worked this time?" he taunted, his voice dripping with malice.

As soon as the gag was removed, a low, angry voice emanated from Noran. "I'll kill you..."

Sigmund's amusement flickered briefly as he registered the seething anger in Noran's voice.

He leaned in even closer, his eyes glinting with a mix of curiosity and malice. "Oh? Still not working? Why are you such a tough one to crack?"

Noran slowly lifted his head, his light blue eyes burning with cold fury.

Despite his weakened state, he still exuded a powerful presence. His muscles tensed as he struggled against the chains, the desire to launch forward and attack Sigmund clear in his eyes.

"You dare touch Rin! I'll kill you!" he spat, his voice dripping with venom and frustration. The thought of his lover being touched by another man was unbearable.

Sigmund sneered, stepping back just in time to avoid Noran's lunge.

"I did more than just touch her," he taunted, his words dripping with malice. "I had so much fun with her in bed last night that I didn't want to get out of bed this morning."

"You bastard!" A guttural scream of rage erupted from Noran, echoing through the room with primal fury.

Noran's expression twisted into one of sheer rage.

His eyes turned bloodshot, the veins in his neck and forehead bulging with the force of his anger. He pulled against the chains with such intensity that Sigmund momentarily feared they might break.

The sight of Noran's unyielding power, even in his weakened state, was both terrifying and impressive.

Sigmund, seeing Noran's uncontrollable fury and fearing the chains might not contain him, called for his men to hold Noran.

The two guards rushed in, grabbing Noran's arms and suppressing him. Despite their efforts, Noran continued to struggle, his eyes blazing with murderous intent.

"Don't be too rough on him. He's my prized puppet," Sigmund told his guards.

"Y-Yes, sir," the guards replied hesitantly, unsure how they would manage to control Noran without applying force.

Having fought Noran in the hospital before, they knew firsthand how skilled he was.

Without the aid of sedatives, even ten of them combined wouldn't have stood a chance against him.

"I know you must have missed her," Sigmund said as he approached Noran, syringe in hand. "If you behave well, I'll let you see her later."

With the guards holding onto him, it was easier to inject Noran with the sedative. Noran's struggles intensified, his furious eyes locking onto Sigmund.

"I'll kill you, I'll kill you!" Noran yelled, his voice raw with rage and desperation.

Sigmund sneered, enjoying the sight of Noran's helpless fury. He jabbed the syringe into Noran's arm, pushing the plunger down with deliberate slowness.

Noran's struggles began to weaken as the sedative took effect. His vision blurred, and his strength waned, but his eyes never lost their defiant fire.

"You bast..." he murmured, his voice fading as consciousness slipped away.

Sigmund watched as Noran's body went limp, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

The guards released their grip, and Noran slumped in the chair, unconscious.

By the time Noran regained consciousness, his mind was clouded with the remnants of sedation. His vision blurred, his head was heavy, and his body was burning from a high fever.

His emotions were in turmoil, an overwhelming mix of anger, despair, and helplessness.

He barely noticed the door creaking open until he sensed a familiar presence standing before him.

Struggling to focus, he looked up, his heart skipping a beat when he saw Shuri.

Her expression was blank, her gaze empty, and she was wearing a revealing maid outfit, a twisted manifestation of Sigmund's sexist preferences.

In her hands, she held a bowl of porridge.

"Rin..." he breathed her name, the sound of it filled with a desperate longing.

But she didn't reply. Her eyes were vacant, devoid of recognition.

Noran bit his lip hard, noticing the love marks on her neck.

"He... He dares defile you..." His voice trembled as he spoke, the realization tearing at his heart.

"I'll kill him..." His body began to shake, his voice cracking with emotion.

"I'll kill him... and get us out of here... Haaa..."

His eyes turned red, and silent tears began to flow down his cheeks.

He sobbed quietly, dropping his face in despair.

"Don't... cry..."

Noran froze, his breath catching in his throat when he heard her faint murmur, barely above a whisper. His face shot up, and he saw her eyes, also red with unshed tears.

"Don't... cry... Ran..." Her body shook slightly, maybe from seeing him cry because she had never seen his tears before.

Yet, her expression remained blank, as if she was holding back from expressing herself, only her eyes showing the turmoil within.

"Rin..." Noran's gaze softened as he continued to stare at her, "D-Do you recognize me?"

He knew she had been brainwashed by Sigmund; otherwise, she wouldn't have been here, tormented by him.

But Shuri didn't answer.

She directed the spoonful of porridge near his mouth and said in a robotic voice, "Please... eat..."

Noran continued to stare at her, searching her eyes for any sign of recognition.

Her expression remained blank, but her hand trembled slightly as she held the spoon.

"Please... eat..." she repeated, her voice devoid of emotion.

Seeing her hand shake, Noran reluctantly opened his mouth and accepted the spoonful of porridge, forcing himself to swallow.

This was the first meal he had since his confinement began.

Shuri continued to feed him, her movements mechanical.

Each time she brought the spoon to his lips, she repeated, "Please... eat..."

Noran's throat tightened with emotion as he ate, his gaze never leaving her face. He wanted to reach out, to hold her, to bring her out of this hell.

Feeling helpless, he subconsciously tried to bite his lips, and each time he attempted to do so, Shuri directed another spoonful to him, preventing him from hurting himself further.

His lips were already bleeding from his previous bites.

By the time he finished the whole bowl, the door opened again, and Sigmund walked in.

"Oh, you finally ate. I knew you would eat if I sent her to feed you," Sigmund said with a smirk.

He looked at Shuri and praised, "Good job, Shuri. Next time, you will be in charge of his meals."

"Thank you... Master," Shuri replied in a monotone, her voice devoid of any emotion.

Sigmund wrapped his arm around her shoulders possessively and said, "I'm starting to like you more and more, Shuri."

"Stop it," Noran uttered, his voice almost pleading, unable to bear the sight of Sigmund touching Shuri.

Sigmund turned to look at Noran with a smug expression. "Look at your eyes, all red. Oh, you even look beautiful in tears. You're tempting me to make you cry more."

Instead of the usual angry outburst, Noran didn't react to the taunt this time.

He looked away, his silence a stark contrast to his previous defiance.

Sigmund stepped closer, reaching out to touch Noran's face with the back of his hand.

Noran didn't move away or try to bite Sigmund as he had before, but simply clenched his fists, his knuckles white with tension. He would rather endure Sigmund's touch a hundred times than see him touch Shuri once.

Sigmund's eyes gleamed with sadistic pleasure as he placed his hand on Noran's shoulder. "Good. I'll let you see her more because you behaved well. Maybe if you continue to be a good boy, I'll even let you watch next time. Would you like that, Noran? Watching as I take your precious fiancée again and again?"

Noran's eyes widened with rage at his words.

Every fiber of his being wanted to tear this bastard apart, but as he yanked at the chains binding him, the pain in his weakened body reminded him of his helplessness.

He bit his lip until it bled again, the metallic taste filling his mouth.

Dropping his head as if bowing to Sigmund, he choked out, "D-Don't hurt her..."

Sigmund laughed, the sound echoing cruelly in the room.

Seeing Noran's submission for the first time brought him immense pleasure.

He patted Noran's shoulder, a mocking gesture of comfort. "I want you to stay like this, obedient and broken. It's a much better look for you. And who knows, maybe one day I'll get bored of her and return her to you."

Noran's fists clenched tightly, his nails digging into his palms as he struggled to maintain his composure.

His entire body trembled with a mix of rage and despair, knowing that any defiance would only bring more harm to Shuri.

As Sigmund savored the moment, his eyes lingering on Noran's defeated form, he noticed the blood trickling down Noran's lips and clicked his tongue. "Such a waste to damage that beautiful face."

Turning to Shuri, who appeared unaffected by the whole ordeal, he said, "Since he's so well-behaved today, I'll let you treat his bleeding lips."

"Yes, Master," Shuri replied, her voice devoid of emotion.

She was about to leave to get the medical supplies when the head butler entered the room.

"Master, we have guests," the butler announced.

"Guests?" Sigmund's curiosity was piqued. The butler quickly approached him and leaned in, whispering something urgent into his ear.

Sigmund's eyes widened in surprise before his expression darkened into a frown.