Chapter 11: The Campus King's Secret

"Killian, what's wrong?"

Seeing Killian suddenly stop in his tracks, Tara stopped as well and looked at him in confusion.

Killian didn't answer her immediately.

But she wasn't sure if it was just her imagination, but his aura seemed to grow even colder in an instant.

Did something bad suddenly happen?

Before she could guess further, she heard him say, "It's nothing. Let's go."

Watching his tall figure stride away, Tara didn't overthink it and quickly jogged to keep up.

However, a few minutes later...

"Mmm~"

Tara tried to hold it back, but eventually, a small whimper escaped her.

In just those few minutes, for some inexplicable reason, a wave of intense emptiness and anxiety had begun to sweep over her, gradually pooling at the surface of her skin.

It felt like being gnawed by thousands of ants—itchy, stinging, burning, and restless.

At the same time, an inexplicable and powerful desire to be touched or embraced rose within her heart.

It was exactly the same as what had happened in the bathroom last time.

Tara bit her lower lip hard and looked up at Killian, who was walking ahead of her with long strides.

He hadn't had a chance to change out of his black jersey yet, but the skin of his exposed arms and neck showed no signs of an allergic reaction.

If it wasn't an allergy, was it some kind of hidden illness?

He seemed used to it.

His back remained as straight as a pine tree, and his pace didn't falter in the slightest.

But Tara couldn't get used to it at all.

Her breathing grew increasingly ragged, her face became hotter, and her legs felt weaker by the second.

Just as she was about to call out to him and give up on the chance to eat together...

"Ah!"

The scenery before her eyes suddenly collapsed downward.

Tara didn't know what she had stepped on, but she suddenly pitched forward and tumbled to the ground.

Hearing the noise, Killian immediately turned his head.

Seeing her state, his stern brows furrowed slightly as he walked over.

Quickly, Tara felt his broad palm grip her arm, helping her up.

In that instant, both her body and her expression froze.

The sharp pain in her knee was clear, but in that moment, it felt negligible.

Because a softer, more comfortable sensation suddenly enveloped her.

It was like a cool breeze blowing from the sea on a scorching summer day, or a clear, icy spring melting from the peak of a snowy mountain, pouring over parched, burning earth.

And the source of all these feelings...

Tara lowered her eyes and stared blankly at Killian’s large hand gripping her arm.

But the moment she was steady, he withdrew his hand with proper distance.

In that same instant, Tara felt the sensation that could suppress her—no, suppress

his

skin discomfort—suddenly vanish.

"Are you all right?"

Seeing Tara looking down in silence, Killian asked.

But Tara seemed completely deaf to him, immersed in her own thoughts.

Consequently, she missed the thick, hidden surge of emotion that flickered deep within Killian's phoenix-like eyes.

"Should I take you to the hospital?"

It wasn't until his magnetic voice rang in her ear again that Tara snapped back to reality.

Suppressing a certain suspicion in her heart, she shook her head. "No need. It just hurts for a bit, it'll be fine soon."

She rubbed her stomach. "I'm so hungry. Let's go eat first."

After saying that, she proactively reached out her hand toward him, blinked her large, glass-bead eyes, and said pitifully, "Could I trouble you to help me walk?"

Killian gazed at her quietly, his expression unreadable.

Tara swallowed nervously, then whispered in a soft, cautious voice, "Sorry, but my leg really hurts."

While there was an element of playing for sympathy, it was also the truth.

Unbeknownst to her, the corners of her beautiful eyes—which naturally carried a hint of naive charm—had begun to take on a petal-like rosy tint from the pain.

She was the picture of "pity-inducing" perfection.

Even someone with a heart of stone would soften at the sight.

Killian watched her calmly for a moment before suddenly averting his gaze. "Let's go," he said coldly.

Following those words, his well-defined hand gripped Tara's slender arm with just enough force to support her.

In that instant, the overwhelming discomfort on her skin was relieved once again.

Tara blinked, looking at his cold, handsome profile. The theory in her mind was completely confirmed.

So, this was his secret.

From what she could see, this condition was exactly like one she had read about in a book: Skin Hunger (Haphephobia/Touch Deprivation).

When it flares up, the person feels an intense craving for physical contact, and only through contact with someone else can the symptoms be relieved.

It appeared physiological, but its roots were psychological.

Therefore, such contact must be built on the premise that he doesn't psychologically reject the person.

In other words, Killian didn't reject her touch. On the contrary, his body's reaction told her that he craved it.

In fact, this craving might have already exceeded his psychological control.

Even though his expression remained cold and distant.

The overwhelming, tide-like longing transmitted through their shared senses proved it.

Tara couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement.

This was like a gift from the gods.

Psychology says that to conquer someone, you must do it not only mentally but also physically.

If Killian uncontrollably craved her touch every time his skin hunger flared up, couldn't she use this to her advantage?

Of course, it would also make her own life a bit easier.

She just wondered if she was the only one who could provide this relief.

...

"I'm full~"

In a restaurant on University Golden Street, Tara put down her chopsticks and gave Killian a sincere smile. "Killian, thank you for the meal."

Killian frowned slightly. "You only ate a few bites. You're full?"

In truth, she was barely half-full, but because of the increasingly intense torture of the skin hunger, she couldn't eat at all.

Throughout the meal, Killian’s posture had remained noble and elegant, seemingly unaffected.

That is, if Tara hadn't noticed the thin layer of sweat on his forehead and the slight bulge of his veins.

"Mhm," Tara nodded, though her hands beneath the table were clenched into tight, restless fists.

This flare-up seemed much more severe than the last one.

It was like a form of torture that reached deep into her bones; it was truly unbearable.

Killian was a true master of endurance.

"Then let's go. I'll take you back," Killian said, setting down his chopsticks.

Tara was surprised. "You aren't eating anymore?"

Killian: "I eat fast. I'm already full."

Like hell I believe you.

He likely had no appetite because of the suffering.

Seeing her delay in standing up, Killian glanced at her. "Not moving?"

"I am," Tara looked up at him, but her round, beautiful eyes suddenly drooped listlessly.

"But Killian... my leg seems to have gotten worse."

She looked up at him like a little rabbit with drooping ears, watching him pitifully. "Can you carry me on your back?"