Deviant: No Longer Human

Thud!

"What the hell were you thinking…?"

Wang Xiao set Yue down on the edge of the bed, exhaling sharply as he poured himself a drink—not to calm his spirit this time, just to ease the pure headache.

"…"

Yue fidgeted, eyes darting away, her small, bare feet brushing against the cold floor. "I'm… sorry…" Her voice was barely a whisper, like a child caught sneaking sweets.

"…"

Wang Xiao fought the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. He'd dragged her here to save her from the public embarrassment, to keep this mess private between them, at least.

In his territory, where not even a stray breeze dared move without his say-so, he could guarantee no one else would intrude.

"Yue…" His voice softened, but irritation lingered in his tone. "This isn't about making me angry. Do you realize what you've stirred up with that little stunt? Do you know how many misunderstandings you've thrown into the air just because you used my old phone?"

He sighed, reaching out to tilt her face up, hoping for some kind of answer in her eyes—but she only avoided his gaze, lashes downcast, silent.

This girl was something else.

Somehow, she'd managed to hook her own phone to his old voicemail, mixing in recordings she'd made from who-knows-when. The result? Anyone who called would hear 'his' voice, his own damned words, all praising her in ways he barely even remembered saying.

She'd stitched together memories and whispers from years ago, weaving her own little ghost out of his forgotten words.

And now… he got it.

He saw what she'd been doing, felt all of it—and he didn't know if he was furious or… damn it, moved.

Those messages, all those little memories… they were meant for him.

Why hadn't he seen it? Why hadn't he noticed she was this… tangled up in him?
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What had she been feeling all this time?

Their last serious talk had been back at Frostguard, in that stiff office of hers. She'd hinted at a few things, sure, but nothing that screamed, 'Hey, I'm over here, making love letters out of your voicemail.' How had she buried it so well?

"Haa…" He rubbed a hand over his face, frustration weighing him down. She sat there, looking so damned small, and every second of silence felt heavier, leaving him with one burning question: Why did he have to lose Yin Yue?

If she were still here, she'd have told him exactly what this little nightmare was about before it got this far.

But Yin Yue was gone, and all he had was this stubborn little shadow named after her.

"Stay here a while—and don't go stirring up trouble with Yanyan," he said, finally, deciding maybe they both needed a little breathing room.

But just as he turned to leave, she tugged at his sleeve.

"Don't… leave…"

He blinked, baffled.

She wouldn't explain a damn thing, wouldn't say a word about what had possessed her to do all this—yet here she was, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping her afloat.

And who made her his daughter, anyway?

He sighed, resigned, sinking back down beside her.

The longer he sat there, the more he realized just how… warped things had gotten between them.

This wasn't like her — She never clung, never reached for him like he was her last lifeline. It was so out of character he didn't know whether to be annoyed or to pull her closer.

Glancing down, he gave a wry smile, voice low. "You two really give me trouble for no damn reason…" He let out a weary chuckle, the earlier frustration loosening just a bit.

No one was seriously hurt. No one was dead. So what was he stressing over, really?

But just as he was about to let it go, Yue's voice came, muffled against his chest, a small whisper: "If you don't want us… just say it directly. Don't keep talking in circles."

Wang Xiao froze, blindsided. 'Where the hell did that come from?'

He shook his head, muttering, "When did I even say that? Innocent here, alright?"

Was she seriously trying to paint him as the villain here? Since when did his own daughters start pulling this victim card?

"Stop twisting things to make me look like some kind of villain here," he added, a flicker of exasperation in his tone. "Maybe I'm not the best, but don't make me worse than I am."

He lifted her chin, his gaze steady. "Look at me."

"!"

Her eyes flickered up, and there it was—a faint red mark on her left cheek where he'd slapped her earlier, a single tear glistening on her lashes.

Her lips parted, trembling like she wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

"Are you really just going to sit there staring at the floor?" His voice softened, unwillingly gentler.

Her gaze met his, her eyes misty. "You always… think I'm trouble," she whispered, so quietly it was like the words would shatter if they were any louder.

He cursed inwardly. That red mark felt like a scar on him. He brushed his thumb over her cheek, trying to erase it, whispering, "When did I say you're trouble?"

"Just now…" she muttered, clutching the towel he'd wrapped around her when he'd pulled her here.

He paused, thrown off. Had he actually said that? He could hardly remember anymore. Maybe it was just the damned wind…

"It's… Wenxi who gives you trouble, not me," she murmured, wiping her tears, her gaze steadying as she looked straight at him.

"Wenxi?" He blinked, completely caught off guard. How'd she drag Wenxi into this?

He could admit his daughters were a handful and too clever for their own good—but he hadn't realized it had gotten this deep.

He brushed a damp strand of her hair back from her face, his expression softening. "Yue, do you really think I ignore you?"

"…"

She stayed silent, but he could see it, plain as day in her face. It was like a damn confession, sitting right there between them.

He let out a slow sigh, trying to piece things together. "How long… have you been doing this?"

"… A few months…" she replied.

"A few months…" He calculated quickly. That'd put it right around when they'd left Xianthera—just a few weeks after he'd switched his old number.

So she'd been keeping up this strange, lonely charade for months.

Wang Xiao felt a strange, heavy ache that wasn't anger, wasn't disappointment—just…confusion.

"I won't make you angry again…" Yue murmured, her hands loosening around him as she glanced back at the floor. Wang Xiao nearly laughed.

Make him angry? Did she really think it was that simple?

"You won't pull something like that again," he emphasized, voice firm.

"Hmm…" She pressed her lips together and gave a small nod, clutching the towel tighter, like it was a shield.

"And if something's on your mind, you'll come to me directly… no more of these games," he added, eyes sharp on her.

Another nod, but her lukewarm response made Wang Xiao's brow twitch in frustration. Was she even listening?

With a sigh, he leaned forward as an idea crossed his mind. Without a word, he reached out, fingers slipping under the edge of the towel to pull it away.

"Huh…?" Yue's eyes widened, stunned, as her clear white shoulders and delicate form were exposed, her gaze searching his in disbelief.

"No one else is here, Yue. Stop hiding from me…" His voice was low, almost a command, and though he struggled not to look down, his focus stayed on her face.

"…"

She didn't even try to cover herself, and that—that—was the damn thing about her. This quiet rebellion, this willingness to give everything, and yet she'd never come out and say it, never ask him outright.

He'd misunderstood it so many times—her silence, her little remarks. She'd already given herself to him, laid it bare, yet every time he twisted her words into something else. Even that last time, when she'd told him he could do whatever he wanted, he'd taken it wrong, reading into her tone instead of seeing the truth right in front of him.

Wang Xiao grabbed her shoulders, steadying himself. He took a deep breath, muttering Buddha's name under his breath for patience before pulling her against him, wrapping his arms around her and easing back onto the bed.

Yanyan would have his head for using her bed like this, but he'd deal with that later. She was easy enough to manage when he needed to.

"…"

Yue's lashes flickered, and her breath was warm against his neck as she settled beside him, silent.

"Dad—…" she whispered, her voice caught between surprise and disbelief as he cupped her face, pulling her closer.

"!?"

Her eyes widened, a flicker of confusion in their depths, but he didn't give her a chance to question him. His lips met hers—cold and damp from the bath, but warming under his touch. Her skin still carried that contrast, chilled from the water but radiating a hidden warmth that seemed to pull him in.

She froze, stunned, as his hand brushed along her jaw, tilting her face up to him, as if he was grounding her there, no room to escape.

Her lips parted in a quiet gasp, and he deepened the kiss, feeling the softness of her breath, tasting the lingering hint of cool water on her skin.

In that moment, her confusion melted away, replaced by something softer...