5 – Cypress Mosaic

This ​time, ​he ​laughed.

“What’s ​your name?”

“I already ​told ​you. ​It’s ​Rian.”

“Not ​the alias you use ​at ​the bar. Your ​real name.”

“I thought ​you ​said ​you ​weren’t ​naive.”

“……”

“Do ​you really think ​I’m ​going ​to tell you?”

“Then ​your phone number.”

“……”

Joshua Lockhart ​took another ​step closer. ​He reached ​out a ​long, ​sturdy ​arm, gripped the ​center of ​the handlebars, and gave ​them a slight shake.

“Should ​I come find you ​every day? ​Or ​maybe follow you home? Would that ​be better?”

“Is that a ​threat?”

“I’m ​just ​saying ​I’m ​willing to put ​in the ​effort.”

With ​a light sigh, ​Elian ​spoke in a tired tone.

“Give ​me your ​number. ​I’ll be the ​one ​to ​contact ​you.”

Joshua ​Lockhart’s business ​card ​dropped into ​Elian’s hand. It was a private card ​containing a direct ​contact number. Elian ​deliberately read the name ​aloud.

“Joshua… Lockhart?”

It ​would be unrealistic ​to ​claim he didn’t ​even know the ​name Lockhart. ​It ​was enough ​to ​pretend he ​hadn’t ​known the ​man ​was ​a Lockhart.

“What? You ​lured ​me in ​without ​even ​knowing ​who I am?”

“Do I need to know? And, as I’ve said repeatedly, I didn’t lure you in.”

“The motives of the kids working at this bar are obvious.”

“And what are they?”

“To snag one of the regulars and try to become their lover. I’m not saying that’s necessarily a bad thing.”

Considering some of his colleagues, Joshua’s words were true to an extent. However, not everyone was like that.

“That’s a very stereotypical perspective.”

“You’re not?”

Elian replied as he shoved the business card into his jeans pocket.

“I’m working here because they pay a high hourly wage.”

“A beauty in need of money… now that is stereotypical.”

The man, who was grinning needlessly, added a correction to his own words.

“Well, your looks certainly aren’t stereotypical.”

As Elian placed his foot on the pedal as if to leave immediately, Joshua Lockhart completely blocked the front of the bicycle. Standing with the front wheel pinned between his legs, he shook the handlebars threateningly once more.

“Call me.”

“Fine.”

“If you don’t, I’ll really make things annoying for you.”

“I said fine.”

“I don’t usually let people go like this. I’m being patient.”

“Am I supposed to praise you for that?”

“Will you?”

“……”

“If you are, a kiss would be nice.”

Joshua’s playful face stepped closer to the bewildered Elian.

Deep green eyes approached boldly, scanning every detail of Elian’s features. After looking down at his lips, he finally lifted his eyelids to meet Elian’s blue eyes, and at that moment, Joshua Lockhart’s green eyes wavered mercilessly, like a forest caught in a storm.

“How can someone be this pretty? Are you even human?”

His gaze held a more specific color than when he had gone to order.

If then it was a look that said he wanted a date, now… it was a look that said he wanted to take him away and roll around in bed.

When Elian pushed his chest, Joshua laughed and stepped back three or four paces.

He continued to back away slowly toward where his car was waiting, a ticklish smile plastered across his face as if he were about to burst into loud laughter.

That was the incident that had occurred between Elian and Joshua Lockhart last night.

After coming down from the Brooklyn Bridge, Elian headed north. To enter 2nd Avenue, he usually had to make a right turn at 3rd Avenue. However, for some reason, the road was blocked.

A manhole cover was open for some kind of construction, and workers in overalls were bustling back and forth. A safety officer in a neon vest spotted the troubled-looking Elian and shook his head.

“No right turns here today.”

“I need to get to 2nd Avenue.”

The man pointed north.

“If you go up a few more blocks, you can turn right at East 52nd Street. Go back down from there.”

“I understand. Thank you.”

Elian pedaled again. Since he wasn’t pressed for time to get to work, it wasn’t an issue.

He turned right at the road the safety officer had indicated, merged into 2nd Avenue, and began heading south again. At an intersection not far from the block where the center was located, cars were waiting for the signal. Elian also came to a stop on the bike lane.

He was in front of a restaurant with an eye-catching emerald green awning. The colors of unauthorized copythe outdoor tables and chairs on the sidewalk were fresh. A few people, Read on Read BL Novelsappearing to be tourists, were enjoying a leisurely morning.

The morning air felt different every day.

He was only slightly sweating on his back where his backpack rested and under his helmet; it wasn’t particularly hot. It was the kind of heat that would cool down quickly once he reached the center and felt the air conditioning.

Elian was standing in the shade, but from the intersection onward, the road ahead was drenched in sunlight. The buildings reflected the morning sun, shining like they were brand new.

To the right of Elian’s bicycle, a black limousine sedan was stopped.

The windows were tinted so darkly that one couldn’t see inside even by pressing their nose against the glass. It was a high-end luxury vehicle, but that wasn’t uncommon in Manhattan.

Just as he was smiling absently at the thought that the pitch-black car might absorb all the light on the street whenever it drove, there was a snap and the helmet strap came loose.

“This thing is acting up again.”

Elian tried to fasten the buckle back. But this time, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get it to click. It seemed a part of the buckle had broken.

Left with no choice, he took off the helmet and forced it into his backpack. Riding with an unfastened helmet could be more dangerous. Besides, he was almost at the center…

The light changed just as he readjusted his backpack.

Leaving the restaurant behind, Elian rode south into the sunlight, gauging in his head when would be the best time to contact Joshua Lockhart.

Three months since moving to New York.

He had obtained the contact information of one of the two Lockharts.

■

Upper East Side.

Between 5th Avenue and Madison Avenue.

A quiet street, devoid of restaurants or shops, untouched by tourists. The cream-colored marble mansion of the Lockhart family sat heavily in the silence.

Lorenz Lockhart was on the third floor, preparing for a business trip.

He showered with fragrance-free body wash and shampoo, and dried himself with towels laundered to be scentless. His skincare and hair products were also all fragrance-free. No perfume could be found anywhere in the powder room or dressing room. It was a direct reflection of Lorenz Lockhart’s fastidious nature, which shunned artificial scents.

Wearing only black boxer briefs on his well-trained physique, he approached [unauthorized copy]the suits that had been prepared. He picked up a cleanly ironed shirt first. In an [visit our site]instant, his pale face contorted strongly.

A strange smell wafted from the shirt.

He had clearly instructed that no scents were to be allowed.

Clicking his tongue, Lorenz threw the shirt straight into the laundry hamper.

Normally, it would have been a scent within an acceptable range. Unless it was a Pheromone, not every smell was agonizing to him. However, his physical condition had not been great lately. His sense of smell was several times more sensitive. Even the faint, fishy smell of water emanating from the shirt was so disgusting he couldn’t stand it.

Since the shirt had changed, he had to re-select everything. The matching suit, tie, and shoes.

With his mouth set in a hard line, he hurriedly chose his clothes again.

Even the smallest disruption to his plans and routines made him even more irritable.

After the death of his father, Damon Lockhart, his grandmother had ordered him to move his residence here. Her reason was that a place that served as the symbol of the Lockhart family could not be left vacant without a master. Claiming it was his duty as the eldest, she left no room for compromise.

He was, of course, welcome to move here.

All the legacies of the Lockhart family stolen contentthat he deserved [stolen content]to inherit—among them, this mansion held a special meaning.

However, there were still inconveniences in his daily life.

It could not be the same as living in the 5th Avenue penthouse, where everything was perfectly prepared according to his routine.

He couldn’t even bring his own employees. In the mansion, he had to follow the rules of the mansion. No matter that he carried the Lockhart name, he was not the true master of this place until he officially became the successor.

The third-floor bedroom he used was connected to the dressing room, bathroom, and study, so the layout itself wasn’t inconvenient. However, the employees here still failed to gracefully accommodate Lorenz’s demanding requests.

His physical condition had hit rock bottom.

And today, that unpleasantness had reached its peak.