I PICKED UP A CHILD IN A DUMPSTER-Chapter 116: I’m letting you feel what I felt!!

After a brief stretch of silence, Si Hon let out a quiet sigh, rolling his shoulders slightly as if shaking off whatever tension still lingered from earlier. His gaze drifted for a second—then sharpened again, something sly slipping into his expression.

(I should... yeah. I’ll mess with her a little.) A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips before he spoke, tone casual— too casual.

"I’ll pick a book for you," he said, glancing at her like it was no big deal. "Want me to?"

The reaction was instant.

Aeloria moved.

Not aggressively. Not violently.

But fast.

In one smooth motion, she stepped forward and caught his hand before he could even process it, her fingers closing around his wrist as she lifted it upward—mirroring exactly what he had done to her earlier. The shift in control was so sudden it almost felt like the scene flipped on its axis.

Then she looked at him.

No— stared, stared, stared.

Direct. Unblinking. Close enough now that the distance between them vanished again, replaced with something far more intentional.

"Promise?" she asked, her voice carrying a quiet intensity that didn’t match the faint flush still lingering on her face. There was a slight pause before she added, a hint of sharpness threading back into her tone, "And don’t get me wrong— this is just so you understand."

Her grip tightened just a fraction— not enough to hurt, but enough to make the point.

"I’m making you feel what I felt earlier," she continued, lifting his hand slightly higher as if emphasizing the position. "When you suddenly grabbed my wrist."

A second pass.

Her eyes narrowed just a little.

"See how it feels?"

Another pause— then, quieter, "Uncomfortable, right?"

For a second, Si Hon just stared at her.

Then his expression went completely flat.

"(￣_￣;) ...No?"

The answer landed with zero hesitation.

No thought.

No sympathy.

Just... pure, unfiltered honesty.

And somehow—

That made it worse.

Aeloria flinched.

It was small— barely there— but it broke the rhythm she had been holding onto. Her gaze dropped for a moment, lashes lowering as if she needed that split second to gather herself again. Then, just as quickly, she lifted her head and met his eyes once more.

"I hate you." The words came out flat. Not explosive. Not loud. Just... stated— like a conclusion she had already decided on.

"Just— just give me the book you’re recommending and I will go." There was impatience in it. Frustration. A hint of something else she clearly wasn’t planning to unpack anytime soon.

But—

Her hand didn’t move.

She was still holding his wrist.

Still keeping it raised.

Still standing close enough that neither of them could pretend this wasn’t happening.

Si Hon glanced down at their hands, then back at her, then down again— like his brain was trying to process the contradiction and failing.

"Oh. Cool."

A second passed of course.

He exhaled, shoulders loosening just slightly as if surrendering to the absurdity of the situation.

"Now, let go of my hand."

"No."

Immediate. Firm. No hesitation.

Si Hon blinked.

"(￣□￣;) ...Huh...? Why?"

"I’m letting you feel what I felt earlier," Aeloria replied, her tone sharpening just a little as her grip tightened— not painfully, but enough to make her point unmistakable. "Understand?! ಠಿ⁠_⁠ಠ"

Her eyes didn’t leave his.

Not for a second.

There was no wavering in it now— no hesitation, no uncertainty— just a steady, deliberate gaze that held its ground like she had already decided something and wasn’t planning to back down from it.

The faint flush on her cheeks hadn’t faded, but it didn’t weaken her expression. If anything, it made the contrast sharper.

Si Hon stared back.

Then tilted his head slightly, the motion slow, almost puzzled— as if he had run into something he couldn’t quite catekogoorise... oh shit,I’m bad at spelling that my own autocorrect aren’t saving me.

"How am I supposed to pick you a book then?" Si Hon said.

The question wasn’t sarcastic. Not defensive. Just... genuinely confused, like the situation itself had stopped making sense somewhere along the way.

Aeloria paused.

It wasn’t long, but it was enough.

Enough for the tension in her expression to shift, just slightly— her brows easing, her lips pressing together for a fraction of a second before something more composed slipped back into place. And then!

She smirked.

Small.

Controlled.

The kind that didn’t need to be wide to mean something.

"Stupid." It came out lightly, almost casually, but there was confidence behind it now— like she had found her footing again and wasn’t planning to lose it a second time. "Heh, (⁠✿⁠^⁠‿⁠^⁠)Use your right hand."

For a moment, nothing happened.

No immediate reaction. No sharp comeback. Just a quiet stretch of time where the words hung in the air, waiting to be processed.

"Go ahead, heh, do it."

"ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ..."

Si Hon blinked once.

Then again.

He looked at her. Then at their hands. Then back at her.

There was a pause— brief, but noticeable— where it almost seemed like he might say something, argue, question it, push back just a little.

He didn’t.

Instead, he let out a small breath through his nose, the tension in his shoulders loosening just enough to show he’d decided it wasn’t worth it.

Without another word, he shifted his stance slightly, turning toward the shelves beside them, his free hand lifting as his attention moved— smoothly, naturally, back to the books.

And just like that—

He accepted it.

The grip on his wrist.

The closeness.

The quiet strangeness of the moment.

Like it had somehow become... normal.

Aeloria didn’t let go.

Not immediately.

Her fingers remained around his wrist, steady— not tightening, not loosening— just there, as if she hadn’t quite decided what to do with it yet~— Omg... am I writing porn??!!!

Her gaze lingered on him for a second longer, watching the way he moved, the way he didn’t react, didn’t comment, didn’t make a big deal out of something that should’ve been one.

It was... unexpected.

And for a brief moment, something in her expression softened— not enough to be obvious, not enough to be called anything— but enough that the sharp edge from earlier didn’t return.

Then she turned her gaze away as well.

Toward the shelves.

Toward the same direction he was facing.

Standing close. Still holding on. Not acknowledging it.

And just like that—

They moved forward.

Not in sync.

Not quite separate either.

Something in between.

Together— and ever... shit.

In the most inconvenient, unspoken way possible.

***

(MIHU...)