Flip the Coin [BL]-Chapter 355. IQ Drop II

I stared more than I wanted, asking myself if he was half-erect or if that was the normal state.

I meant I felt his thing against mine, and I felt his morning erection, but I did neither touch nor look, so...

If he was half-erect, he could be awake and laughing internally at the little skit I was performing here in the bathroom, and if he was not, then he was a blessed man and would surely make his future girl-

AH DAMN IT—that thought got me furious and paranoid for a second there.

"Are you awake?" I pinched his cheek, but he seemed out cold.

Fine. From what I saw, his private parts were not full of mud; let’s all thank the inventor of underwear.

Next would be the drying... but I was covered with dirt, with the exception of my arms, which had been cleaned in the process of washing him.

Fine.

I conjured up wet towels, and then I let my conjured-up clothes disappear and scrubbed my body clean, sometimes dunking the towel in the bathtub to get it wetter, and then I conjured up new clothes before I remembered that I should go outside and look in the closet for real clothes from the present.

But then I feared Henry would drown in the meanwhile, so I pulled the plug and waited until the water inside the bathtub was at a non-drowning level before hurrying out and taking a speedy look at the closet.

What I saw were mostly comfortable dark clothes that seemed to be in Henry’s size, but I also spotted the square he stole from Elisa.

"BAHAHAHA!" I broke out laughing, but then I hurried back with a bunch of clothes.

Nobody drowned in the two-centimeter-deep water that was left, which was good news, but the bad news was that there lay a naked body with disappearing bubbles on it, and that got my IQ to the cellars again, as I slipped on the bathroom floor and nearly broke my neck.

I groaned in annoyance at myself and hoped that the crystalline counterpart would glaze over the memories of the last forty-five minutes or so as well, cause they were traumatic.

Anyway, falling naked on the bathroom floor hurt, but upgrades and such let me overcome it instantly.

So I dried myself again because I had slipped and gotten wet again, and then I clothed myself in too-big clothes.

Looking at Henry, I wished to just throw the clothes at him to see them magically being worn on his body, but the skit we played was no magic show, so here we are.

The floor was wet, so I couldn’t operate there, and the bathtub was somehow dirty; only the bed inside Henry’s room was left.

So I made sure that the whole water of two centimeters’ height was drained and went outside, planning to throw towels on the bed and then get Henry and dry him off on the bed.

However, I forgot Henry’s bed was dirty.

I massaged my temples and took deep breaths for a minute before I came back into the bathroom and threw a big towel on Henry.

Then I scooped him up, half over my shoulder, while supporting him with a hand under his lower back, left the bathroom, then Henry’s room, to go into my room.

When I stood in the room that was freshly painted in GREEN AND HAD NO BEDFRAME—JUST A FUCKING MATTRESS AND CLOSET INSIDE, NOT EVEN A NIGHTSTAND—I wanted to scream.

I stood there speechlessly for a few minutes and had the deep urge to take my legs into my hands and run out of here, but then I calmed myself by thinking that the paint was fresh, so it would take time until it came from the wall...

I wish I hadn’t destroyed Henry’s room and bathroom.

I wish I had flooded this room instead.

Ah, I don’t know anymore.

I conjured up towels and threw them randomly on the bed before putting Henry down cautiously, and then I let the big wet towel disappear.

Without looking, I conjured more towels until there was a mountain in which he was buried.

After making sure he could breathe, I randomly rubbed the towel mountain until Henry was hopefully dry.

Then I wanted to let them disappear, but... I had forgotten his clothes.

"God fucking damnit!" I went back to the ocean and found the clothes I had taken for Henry; as we remember, the ones carried while I slipped were now wet on the floor.

Ah yeah, I had taken the clothes I wear now from the top of the pile on the bathroom floor, so they were dry.

But.that.was.not.the.case.with.the.rest.

So I WENT TO THE FUCKING CLOSET again.

Without punching a wall or something, which I am really proud of, I took clothes and went back inside my sparsely furnished room, which was an insult in itself, and let the towels disappear to then be met again with a naked body.

I put a shirt on Henry, and then I put pants on him, with closed eyes, while lamenting my shitty life.

When this was finally over, I covered him with a blanket.

"I will never shower you ever again." I told him while drying his hair with a towel and then wrapping a fresh one around it. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

After I made sure he was sleeping soundly and was tucked in nicely, I went outside, took the staircase, and walked straight ahead into the big room where I was fed after hunting meat inside Kitty’s body.

My grandmother sat on her throne-like seat with Kitty by her side; the whole room had a freshly painted calm brown, a tacky chandelier, and some tacky turquoise curtains for the three small windows on the left wall.

Across from her throne, there was an uncomfortable stool without even an arm or backrest.

"WHY?" I lifted the stool and shook it to emphasize my point.

"WHY DO YOU HAVE A TURQUOISE-PINK-GOLDEN VELVET THRONE, AND I GET THIS?" I shook it some more, thinking that even the prison chairs were nicer than that.

"EVEN THE CAT GETS TO SIT MORE COMFORTABLY THAN ME?" Seeing that Kitty lounged comfortably on a big throne-matching pillow, I nearly lost it.

"AND WHY IS THERE NO FUCKING BEDFRAME IN MY ROOM, BUT IN HENRY’S, THERE IS???"

My grandmother slurped from a tiny cup of imported coffee and smacked her lips.

"I thought this was your style? Are there gangsters who value furniture? No, right? You just need the precious art on your body."

"STILL THE TATTOOS?" I yelled at her, just a hair away from throwing the chair—I MEAN STOOL—at her.

"Yes. But if you want to turn your life around and venture from your depraved path, I found another specialist since you scared away the other."

I laughed angrily, put the stool on the floor, and looked around the room.

I found a really nice big golden pot with beautiful flowers in it and went to it, dragging it in front of my grandmother.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?" She stood up and swung her stick threateningly, but I had already turned the pot upside down to take my seat on it.

"Ah..." I sighed blissfully.

"I love the gangster life." I smirked at her.

My grandmother was in the midst of lunging at me when Ethan speedily stepped in, suddenly appearing from the side.

"Mrs. Howard. We still have questions for Mr. Howard. How about we ask him, and then you can...murder him?"

Breathing laboriously, the old hag fell back onto her THRONE while I sat on the pot with destroyed flowers and dirt strewn around it on the floor.

Ethan stood behind the throne, and Kitty groomed himself beside it.

The former cleared his throat.

"I know these are unpleasant questions, but we need to know the facts to protect you."

"Who wants to protect him?" My grandmother moved her head away in disgust.

As an answer I pushed myself back with my feet, and that included the pot I sat on, until I reached the closed door, which I could use as a backrest (because the upside-down pot naturally also didn’t have one), in the process scattering dirt and flowers in my path.

When I could lean back comfortably, ignoring my grandmother’s murderous glares, I shrugged.

"Ask away."

Ethan nodded.

"How many people have you exactly killed, how did you do it, and where are their corpses?"