Professor Grayson's Favorite sin のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 61 - チャプター 70

Lennon stayed curled in Damien’s lap long after the note had been set aside on the coffee table like something toxic. The penthouse was quiet except for the low hum of the city far below and the steady rhythm of Damien’s heartbeat under Lennon’s ear. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken, just clung—fingers twisted in the front of Damien’s shirt, breathing shallow and uneven.Damien hadn’t let go either. One arm banded around Lennon’s waist, the other hand carded slow, repetitive strokes through his hair, grounding them both.Eventually Lennon shifted—just enough to tilt his head back so he could see Damien’s face. His eyes were still glassy, red-rimmed, but the terror had dulled into something quieter, more determined.“Damien,” he whispered.Damien’s hand stilled in his hair. “Yeah, baby?”Lennon swallowed. His voice came out small but steady. “Who sent that note?”Damien exhaled through his nose, long and controlled. He didn’t look away.“I think you already know I’m not going to lie to y

Roman didn't wait for Damien to call him. The second Damien had texted about Lennon's suspicions, Roman was already moving. He had his own network: discreet contacts in campus security, backdoor access to the city's CCTV grid, favors owed from tech guys who'd rather not have their own skeletons dragged into the light. By midday, he was holed up in a nondescript warehouse office on the edge of town, screens glowing with feeds pulled from school cameras, street cams, even a few private business ones he'd "borrowed."The footage was grainy in places, but clear enough. Roman scrubbed through timelines matching Lennon's descriptions: Monday locker hall, Wednesday quad, Thursday cafeteria, Friday library path. Patterns emerged. A figure in dark clothing—hood up, face obscured by shadows or angles—appearing just out of frame, lingering too long, vanishing when Lennon turned. Not amateur. Professional tail, but sloppy enough to get caught on tape.Roman leaned back in his chair, lit a cigaret

The penthouse felt too tight that night. Lennon walked in ahead of Damien, dropped his duffel bag by the door without looking at it, and went straight to the kitchen island. He opened the fridge, stared inside for ten seconds, then closed it again without taking anything out. Damien watched from the entryway, silent, arms crossed. Lennon moved mechanically, and Damien didn’t want to distract him from whatever was going on in his head.Lennon moved to the living room next. He picked up the remote, turned the TV on. The sound hit them immediately. He muted it right away and sat on the couch with his knees pulled up, staring at the blank screen like it was showing something important. He looked small—smaller than he had weeks ago. Damien crossed the room and sat on the coffee table in front of him so they were eye level.“Baby, talk to me.”Lennon didn’t look up. “I’m fine,” he said, trying and failing to keep his voice even.“You are not.”“I said I’m fine.” Lennon’s voice cracked on th

Chapter 67 Evelyn Grayson did not suggest things. She summoned. The text had arrived on Damien's phone at nine in the morning, cheerful in the way that certain forces of nature were cheerful. “Dinner on sunday. The house upstate, both of you. Don't make me come to that campus.” Damien had read it, set the phone down, and said nothing for a long moment. Then he had forwarded it to Lennon without comment. Lennon's reply had taken four minutes. “She said both of us?” Now it was Sunday and they were in Damien's car on the road upstate Lennon was sitting in the passenger seat with his knees angled toward the door, and his fingers working a loose thread on the hem of his hoodie. He had been pulling at it since they left the city. He was going to unravel the whole thing. "She is not going to eat you," Damien said. "I know that." "You have met her before." "I know that too." "You cried on her." Lennon dropped the thread. "That was one time and I would appreciate it if we never discu

Roman came to campus on a Thursday with no announcement and the energy of incoming weather.He appeared in the doorway of Damien's office at eleven in the morning, in a dark coat with the collar up, he looked at Lennon sitting in the chair across from Damien's desk with the expression of someone taking careful inventory. Then he looked at Damien. Then back at Lennon, as though he was calculating something. Then he pulled the door shut behind him and sat in the second chair without being invited. He leaned forward with his forearms on his knees."Volkov has been asking about you," he said to Damien. "They know about the teaching position, they know about this campus, and they have started asking questions about your personal arrangements." He paused. "They know there is someone."Lennon felt the air in the room change temperature."They do not have a name yet," Roman continued. "But they are looking. And when the Volkovs look for something they find it. It is a matter of time and reso