The Rogue System [BL]-Chapter 311 – Dignity down the drain

A rolling pain in his stomach.

That was what yanked Eric out of his already miserable, restless sleep.

It wasn’t just pain — it felt like his insides had decided to ride a roller coaster while someone swung a bat into his gut at the same time. Every muscle in his abdomen tensed painfully, twisting and clenching until he almost doubled over where he lay.

"Ahhh..." He groaned, curling slightly as he clutched his stomach. "Why... does it hurt so much..." His voice was low, hoarse, and the sound of it only seemed to bounce around the still room.

Dragging himself upright, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, blinking blearily at his surroundings. His eyes adjusted to the dim, flickering light of a single lantern in the corner — and froze.

Across the room, sitting at a low table, Ryan was calmly working in the middle of the night. His posture was perfectly straight, brush in hand, ink stone at his side, movements smooth and precise as if nothing in the world could distract him. The rhythmic strokes of his calligraphy brush on the paper were the only sound.

For a long second, the two of them just stared at each other. No words. No movement. It was as though time had stopped.

And then Eric’s body betrayed him.

A loud fart tore through the silence, echoing off the wooden walls like a gunshot.

Eric’s entire body went rigid. His eyes widened in horror. What the fuck... my stupid stomach... why would you betray me right now?! Heat rushed to his face so fast it almost burned.

He snapped his head away, mortified, and staggered toward the door with one arm wrapped protectively over his gut.

"Where do you think you’re going?" Ryan’s voice came low, steady, without even glancing up from his writing.

"To fucking poop my pants off!" Eric barked, slamming his hand against the latch.

Only then did Ryan finally lift his head, one eyebrow raising slightly in that maddeningly calm way of his. Without saying a word, he extended a finger and pointed toward something in the far corner of the room.

Eric’s gaze followed the gesture... and landed on a porcelain bowl.

His face went paper-white.

No. No, don’t tell me... No, no, no... They poop in a pot?! Ahhhhhh!!! Noooo!!!

He recoiled like he’d just been told to swallow a live snake. His hands twitched uselessly at his sides before flying back to hold his gut. "Is there a river close by?" he demanded, voice tight.

Ryan let out a faint, dismissive scoff and dipped his brush into the ink again. "If you want to freeze to death, you can try that," he said without looking up.

Eric glared at him, fury bubbling in his chest. This man...

Before he could say anything else, his stomach released another monstrous growl, like some beast inside him was about to claw its way out.

"You! You get out!" he shouted.

Ryan’s lips curved into the faintest smirk. "Tonight is supposed to be our wedding night. How could I step out on my wife?"

"Wife my ass! I just want to poop, you asshole!" Eric snapped, voice rising in frustration.

Ryan hummed, not even pretending to hide the amusement in his tone. "This marriage was personally sanctioned by the Emperor. If he even suspects the wedding hasn’t been consummated, we’ll have a lot of trouble." His voice had that infuriating singsong edge, each word laced with deliberate provocation.

Eric’s patience shattered. He stomped forward, grabbed Ryan by the lapels, and yanked him forward so hard the brush almost slipped from his hand.

Ryan’s calm, steel-gray eyes locked onto his.

"You... you get out right now or else..." Eric’s expression twisted into a wicked grin. "I’ll pee on you."

For the first time that night, Ryan’s brows furrowed — just slightly, but it was there. "I’ll dare you to try that... and still keep your appendage attached."

"Ahhh! Why won’t you just go out?! How do you expect me to poop in front of you?!" Eric’s voice cracked under the sheer frustration, and before he could stop himself, actual tears started spilling down his face. "Ahhh!!!"

His stomach twisted again, sending another sharp wave of pain through him. He hunched over, almost collapsing where he stood.

Ryan stared at him for a moment, his usual composed expression faltering just enough for a flicker of something else to show through. Seeing the man in tears — real tears, not the exaggerated kind — made something in his chest tighten unexpectedly. For one irrational moment, he wanted to get up, walk over, and pull him into his arms... wipe those tears away until there was no trace of them left.

But he didn’t. He tightened his grip on the brush, holding the impulse back. That was dangerous territory. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

"I can turn around for your modesty," Ryan finally said, voice quieter now.

"That doesn’t help!!!" Eric almost wailed. "Why is it so hard to even poop here?!"

"In your country, they also have the same method to defecate," Ryan murmured.

Eric shot him an unblinking glare. The man wasn’t moving. He wasn’t giving him space. He was like a wall — a stubborn, immovable wall.

"O-okay... turn around," Eric muttered, gritting his teeth. "If... if you look back, I’ll kill you. I swear I’ll drive a dagger through your heart in the middle of the night... No, wait."

He marched over to the shelves, grabbed a small dagger, and without hesitation tore the sleeve right off his own robe. From the torn fabric, he ripped two thin strips.

"Here," he shoved them toward Ryan. "Tie your eyes up with this... and stuff your ears with this."

Ryan just looked at him.

"In the end, you will do it, or I swear you’ll regret it."

Ryan’s jaw tightened. And then, slowly, he set the brush down... and complied.

So there he sat — General Ryan, one of the most feared men in the empire — at his wedding table in the middle of the night, eyes tied with a strip of crimson silk and ears stuffed with cloth... all because his furious new spouse demanded it so he could have some dignity.

By the time Eric was done, the faint light of dawn was spilling into the room. He was sweaty, exhausted, and feeling like absolute shit. The past two days, his body had stubbornly refused to cooperate — but of course tonight, of all nights, everything had to come in a rush, humiliatingly loud.

He turned his head toward Ryan. The man still sat there with his back to him, eyes covered by the strip of red silk, ears stuffed, posture perfectly straight. The color of the fabric stood out against his slightly tanned skin, the faint gold of dawn catching on his jawline. The contrast was... annoyingly striking.

Tsk... my lover’s face is always elite, Eric thought bitterly.

He bent down and picked up the dagger from where it had fallen earlier. His steps were slow as he approached Ryan from behind.

With the man’s back turned, he looked completely defenseless.

Should I just stab him and make a run for it? The thought flickered darkly in his mind. But... will I even escape this country? Where would I go? I know nothing about this world...

He kept moving forward, each step bringing him closer.

Just as he raised the dagger, his wrist was suddenly seized in a grip like iron.

"Don’t try anything stupid," Ryan’s voice came, low and certain. "That dagger can’t even reach vital organs. It’s useless."

In one smooth motion, he twisted the weapon out of Eric’s hand as if it weighed nothing.