The Fake Son Wants to Live [BL]-Chapter 145 - Guide to be a farian

Bian gazed down at his hand. It was being held delicately, carefully, as if it were something precious.

Large fingers that curled gently around his wrist were warm and strong, veins prominent under smooth skin. The pads of those thumbs pressed just lightly against his pulse.

His breath caught.

’He’s holding my hand.’

The thought was simple. Stupid, even. But it sent a flutter through his chest that he couldn’t shake.

He let his gaze slowly drift upward. Along the forearms first—solid, lean muscle under tight sleeves. The curve of the biceps, the broad muscular shoulders. This was someone who could break bones without trying.

And yet he held Bian’s wrist like it was something fragile.

His eyes lifted higher.

To the neck. That collarbone that peeked out from under the armored fabric. The shadow of a throat that moved with each breath. A jawline sharp enough to cut, lips firm and pink, and then—those eyes shimmering gold like molten metal.

Bian froze.

Too handsome.

That was the first thought. The second was more dangerous: He’s mine.

That face. Those eyes. That body. Everything about this man hit Bian like a thousand needles in the chest—sharp, overwhelming, addictive.

He’s mine. Mine. Completely mine.

He couldn’t believe it.

The man holding him was no ordinary Farian. He was the Farian prince.

Bian almost forgot to breathe.

He felt the pot in his other hand—small, round, still slightly warm. The alien substance inside it shimmered with an unnatural glow, its scent clinging faintly to the air. It had worked.

But how long will it last?

That thought came in like a cold needle in the back of his mind.

The medicine was effective—but it wasn’t permanent. Bian didn’t know its full properties, didn’t know how long it could dull Dican’s instincts or prevent his memories from returning. He had to use it carefully. Wisely. And if possible... he had to find a way to get more of it. Because once it wore off—

No. He didn’t want to think about that yet.

He looked up at the prince again.

"...What is your name?" Bian asked, his voice soft, almost trembling.

There was a pause.

Then, the prince tilted his head slightly, golden eyes still fixed on Bian’s face, and answered.

"Dican, my love."

Bian’s heart exploded.

He called me his love.

Bian couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his lips.

He stepped a little closer.

"Dican... sounds so good," he whispered. He savored the name like it was a favorite fruit, sweet and forbidden. "My name is Bian. And I’m your mate."

Bian slowly pulled the chain from under his collar. A small, dull green gem pendant swung into view, catching the broken light from the overhead cracks. He held it out carefully, palm open, his eyes locked on the man in front of him.

"This," he said, voice tight with emotion. "Do you recognize this?"

Dican tilted his head, golden eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he studied the pendant. There was a pause, a beat of silence, before he spoke.

"It’s a soul stone," he said.

Bian nodded, his fingers curling slightly around the gem. "Yes. It’s my soul stone. I’m the lost prince."

Dican’s brow furrowed slightly. "But... you do not have Farian blood running through you."

The words struck him harder than he expected.

Bian’s face tensed. His fingers closed around the soul stone as his shoulders straightened. Of course he didn’t have Farian blood. He knew that. He’d always known. But hearing it said aloud—especially by Dican—made something twist uncomfortably inside him.

Then how do I convince them?

How do I convince him?

His mind raced. This was the one thing he couldn’t fake—his biology. But everything else—his memories, his soul stone, his role—he could make it real. He had to.

Bian looked up at Dican again, eyes narrowing just slightly.

"You... you’re absolutely loyal to me, right?" he asked, voice low. "You won’t tell anyone our secrets, right?"

Dican’s expression didn’t shift. He didn’t hesitate. He nodded with that same devoted look in his eyes.

"You are my mate," he said, voice steady, confident. "You have absolute control over me. Everything I am is yours."

Bian’s heart stopped.

Then started again, too fast.

The air seemed to vanish from his lungs as the weight of those words hit him square in the chest.

Everything I am is yours.

He stared up at Dican—this man with the perfect face, golden eyes, that effortless strength and presence—and felt his breath catch. His heart pounded loud and erratic in his chest.

He bit his bottom lip and forced himself to calm down. To think. He couldn’t afford to get swept up in emotions right now. There was something he needed to know.

"Then I want you to tell me," he said, voice steadier than he expected. "Is there a way... for a human to become a Farian?"

Dican blinked, thoughtful. He didn’t respond right away.

Then, finally, he nodded.

"Indeed there is," he said. "But the possibility of it working is not one hundred percent. In fact..." He paused again, eyes focusing distantly, searching his memory. "Humans and Farians share a common ancestor. Thousands of years ago, Farians were the ones who mutated the humans on Earth with our DNA. It started with one of our elders—he fell in love with a human. Desperately wanted to share his life with them. But humans and Farians... we are different."

Bian raised a brow. "Different how?"

"We Farians live for a very long time," Dican said. "Centuries, sometimes. While humans... their lifespans rarely exceed one hundred years. That elder, the one who loved a human—he couldn’t bear the thought of losing them so quickly. So he searched for a way to make it work. Eventually... he used gene mutation."

Bian’s breath hitched.

His eyes shimmered with a sudden hope. "So... how is it done? This gene mutation?"

Dican’s expression darkened slightly, not with anger but with caution. "It’s a controversial method," he said quietly. "They use the bone marrow and the jedi—the inner life-force—of a fallen Farian soldier. That material is then grafted into the human body. In most cases, the human’s body rejects it. The process is... painful. And most do not survive. But that elder made it work."

Bian’s lips parted slowly. His fingers tightened on the soul stone.

So it’s possible. It’s actually possible.

A rush of thoughts surged through him—wild, eager, unstoppable. He could become a Farian. He could be like them. He could be worthy. And most of all—he could stay by Dican’s side. Forever.

He looked up at Dican, his smile slowly growing, soft and filled with quiet joy.

"So I can become a Farian," he whispered to himself, heart thudding in disbelief.

He didn’t care if the process was painful.

He didn’t care if it was controversial or forbidden or rare. If there was even a chance—just one—then he would take it.

He clutched the soul stone tightly and looked into Dican’s eyes again.

Then we can be together. Forever.