A man was wandering at the bottom.
The torn and battered clothes were yellow and dirty drops of sweat mixed with dust dripped from them.
The man’s hair, with bright strands visible here and there, was clumped together in places as if it hadn’t been combed.
The limbs, as thin and dry as pieces of wood in midwinter, protruded from under the frayed fabric and moved limply.
From time to time, he stopped to take a breath and then continued moving.
The place the man was heading to was the very bottom of the city.
A corner of that dry alley where even the pickpocket spat and turned around because no one had anything.
The man’s place was under a dark shade where no light could enter.
He didn’t eat anything today.
He didn’t eat anything yesterday either.
The man’s stomach, shrunken to the point where it couldn’t even digest a sip of water, no longer cried.
He knelt down on the stone road helplessly.
He slowly laid his body on the ground as if he were dying.
He even closed his eyelids.
There was no one in the secluded alley.
There was no one to hate him, no one to beat him, no one to rape him, and no one to throw him away.
The black shadow of the gray wall became a blanket and blocked the crimson world that was spinning even under his eyelids.
“Hey, wake up.”
A rough kick woke the man.
The consciousness, which had just been engulfed in darkness, was disturbed and returned a little.
The stinky boots crashed into him to the point his bones ached and stamped on his legs a few more times without a hint of mercy.
It wasn’t until there was a cracking sound that the man opened his foggy eyes and floundered his arms like the legs of an insect that was having its final convulsion.
The guy, who woke him up by kicking his skinny body fiercely, threw the paper bag he was holding in his hand.
It fell on his face and smelled extremely light and savory.
The man barely stretched out his thin hand and grabbed the paper bag.
“Today, I brought a special one with raisins in it.”
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection.
If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
When he pulled out the paper bag and managed to tear off the awfully tough paper, a warm, freshly baked piece of bread came out of it.
The smell of bread seeped into his nostrils as he breathed in the thin air.
The man’s mouth, which was as dry as a desert, suddenly salivated.
He brought the bread closer to his face with both hands and opened his mouth.
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“You always manage to make me hornier than most passable prostitutes.
On the subject of alpha bastards.”
Soon after, the guy pulled down his pants and pulled out his dark, curved penis.
He cruelly shoved his fingers into the gap in the rugged red flesh that had been torn and stuck into countless times.
The man who had just swallowed the bread choked and coughed.
“Don’t pig out and relax so I can loosen your hole.”
The guy n swung his hand like a whip and hit his skinny butt.
The man shook from the great shock and dropped his bread.
He got down on his knees to pick up the bread.
As soon as he reached out and grabbed the rolled bread, the guy seized the man by the waist and pulled him back.
“You have to pay for the meal, where do you think you’re running away?”
The guy spat on the red flesh after hitting his butt a few more times.
Then he poked deeper with his finger a few more times.
The man grimaced and let out a small moan, now holding the bread in his mouth.
“Lunatic, do you like it?”
The guy who poked into the hole as much as he wanted quickly shoved his unsightly erect penis to the very root.
The man seemed to be screaming with his mouth full of bread, but the discomposure was so weak that even the guy’s ears could not hear it.
The penis entered the trembling body and moved violently as if it would tear the intestines at once.
The man, unable to overcome the impact, held the bread in his arms and fell down, lifting only his hips.
The saliva that flowed from between his parched lips dripped onto the black dried fruit stuck in the savory bread.
* * *
Once the man was a brilliant Count.
There were times when even the man forgot that fact since no one called him by it, but he also had a name.
Perhaps it was also of an aristocratic style.
But now he was called ‘Hey’, so even if he had a long name, he would only be laughed at.
After the guy was gone, the man pulled up his clothes without even wiping his thighs dripping with semen.
If others saw him receive an alpha’s semen, he would be subjected to the same thing until his stomach bursts with it, which he couldn’t even convert into calories today.
He didn’t want to suffer that much.
He had to hide somewhere else quickly.
He grabbed the half-eaten bread.
The saliva-soaked part crumbled on his rough fingers and dripped to the floor.
He looked down at the c
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