Sacred Obsession: For the priest who ruined me のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 21 - チャプター 30

Chapter 23: Elias POV Morning light cut across the east-side quad in clean, indifferent lines. I finished the last of the registration paperwork at the administrative annex before classes began. The process was straightforward—final module confirmations, student ID activation, access credentials—but it did not go unnoticed. Two girls from the line behind me lingered after I stepped away, voices low, eyes tracking me longer than necessary. Another, already seated on a nearby bench, looked up from her phone and didn’t look away until I passed. Reputation worked both ways here. Attention, even the quiet kind, was a form of currency I had no interest in spending.I ignored it and walked toward the computer science building.The lecture hall was tiered, glass-walled on one side, and already half full. I took a seat near the middle, close enough to hear everything, far enough to remain unremarkable. The professor entered without ceremony—mid-forties, sharp-eyed, sleeves rolled to the elbo

Chapter 25: Theo Maddox povI’d started waking up in the middle of the night to piss, and every single time the thin line of light under Elias’s door was still there.One month. That was all it had taken for the pattern to settle in. I’d roll out of bed, half-asleep, shuffle to the bathroom, and on the way back I’d see it again—that steady yellow glow. Sometimes I heard the soft clack of a keyboard. Most times just silence. He was always awake. Always working. Always alone.Something was off with him. I didn’t need a psychology degree to see it. The guy barely ate. He moved through the apartment like a ghost who paid rent. He had the kind of face and build that should’ve made university easy—quiet good looks, that distant intensity girls seemed to lose their minds over—and instead he treated every social opening like a threat.The girls had noticed him hard. Within the first month his name was already floating around the freshman forums. Threads with too many emojis. Speculations abo

Chapter 27 :Elias POV I slept only a wink.The nightmare came the way it always did—Cassian’s body solid under my hands one moment, gone the next, my own voice still raw in my throat when the thin morning light finally cut across the ceiling. The dream no longer shocked me the way it once had. Familiarity had sanded the worst edges off the terror, leaving only the hollow ache that followed me out of sleep and into the day. I lay still for a minute, listening to the quiet of the apartment, then forced myself upright.The schedule sat in my head like a weight. Lectures from eight until two. Tutorial from two until four. A long stretch of hours with no real break. I moved through the motions of preparation without thinking: shower hot enough to sting, towel rough against my skin, clothes pulled on in the half-dark of my room. The mirror showed the same tired face it had shown for weeks. I looked away.In the kitchen I reached for the kettle, already resigned to the cup of coffee I woul

Chapter 29: Elias POV I did not remember the walk back.One moment the bass was still a distant pressure behind me and the night air was cool against my face; the next I was standing in the shared sitting room of the apartment with the door shutting softly at my back. The familiar layout—couch, low table, the half-open kitchen—felt strangely distant, as if I were seeing it through water. My hands were empty. My jacket was still on. I had no memory of the streets between the party and here.I went straight to my room and closed the door.The desk lamp was still on from earlier, casting its usual yellow circle across the laptop and the unmade bed. I sat on the edge of the mattress and tried to name what I was feeling. Nothing accurate came. Disgust sat close to the surface—the residual heat of Seraphine’s hand on my shoulder, the chemical taste that had brushed my mouth for less than a second, the way her body had moved against mine like she already owned the space. Under that was a c

Chapter 31: Elias POV I woke to the pale grey light of late morning and the sour smell of spilled alcohol.Theo lay on the cold floor of the shared sitting room, one arm flung out, face pressed against the wood. His clothes from the night before were wrinkled and damp in places. An empty bottle had rolled under the low table. He looked younger like this—mouth slightly open, dark hair stuck to his forehead, the easy confidence of the previous evening completely gone.I crouched beside him and checked his breathing. Steady enough. I slid an arm under his shoulders and another under his knees and lifted. He was heavier than he looked, all solid muscle gone slack with drink. He made a low, miserable sound but did not fully wake as I carried him into his room and lowered him onto the bed. I pulled the blanket over him, left a glass of water on the nightstand, and went to the kitchen.Hangover soup required almost no thought. I set a pot of chicken broth on the stove, sliced fresh ginger