Chapter 106: Captivated and Spellbound
Under Rafael’s seemingly warm yet truly indifferent gaze, Ferrante lowered his head and suddenly drew a quiet breath.
To facilitate applying the medicine, Rafael was kneeling in front of Ferrante, resting both hands on the young man’s knees. His posture was gentle and submissive; looking up at Ferrante, his face held a peculiar air of innocence and simplicity. His pale golden hair cascaded behind his back, the slightly wavy tresses like a sunlit ocean shimmering with golden light. Who could bear to reproach him—when he looked at you like that?
Not even Ferrante could.
This was the saint he had longed for since his youth—the sovereign and lover he had worshiped, looked up to, believed in, and sworn to serve with his life and soul. Over the long passage of time, Rafael had become more important to Ferrante than everything else about himself.
To deny Rafael was to deny his very existence.
But…
Rafael’s eyes suddenly widened in surprise as he stared at Ferrante.
The young man with his head bowed showed no expression on his face, but large, transparent tears spilled feverishly from his deep-set eyes. He did not speak, weeping in complete silence. It was as if the soul he had crushed deep within his chest had cracked open, and all the shattered sorrow poured out through that single opening, quickly dripping down his chin and splashing onto the back of Rafael’s hand.
Though the tears had just left the body and were warm, the young Pope flinched as if scalded by boiling water. He curled his fingers back abruptly, looking up at Ferrante with unease and bewilderment.