6

I gripped the stranger's phone nervously, the sound of the waiting signal echoing in my ear. After what felt like an eternity, someone finally picked up.

"Master?! Where are you?! Everyone's looking for His Highness!" The voice on the other end was frantic.

"Um... h-hello?" I stammered, unsure.

"Who is this?" The tone shifted instantly, sharp and demanding. "How did you get Master's phone?" The man growled.

"Am I... speaking to Gareth?" I asked, but the silence that followed made me immediately realize how foolish the question sounded. "Your... friend... Master or whatever, had a car accident. I found him. He told me not to call an ambulance, but to call you..." I blurted out, trying to explain as best I could, my voice shaking.

Gareth was quiet for a long time. I even checked to make sure he hadn’t hung up.

"H-hello?" I asked, feeling the growing tension.

"I’ve tracked the phone. Stay there. We’ll be there in 20 minutes, tops." His voice was cold before the line clicked off.

I wanted to protest, but all that came out was a frustrated breath as the call ended with a definitive click.

"Seriously?! No 'please wait,' or 'thank you for calling me'?! Who does he think he is?" I muttered, annoyed beyond measure.

I glanced at the car, at the unconscious silver-haired man slumped inside. The frustration in me only deepened. The idea of calling some "Gareth" instead of an ambulance seemed completely insane.

And the man in the car... he looked like he was already dead.

"What if this Gareth gets here and blames me for his 'master's' death?" I thought, panic rising.

In a knee-jerk reaction, I decided to at least try to get him out of the car and perform CPR. Regardless of how much this Gareth wanted to avoid a hospital, leaving someone to die without even trying to save them felt wrong.

I hurried back to the car and wrenched open the door. With some effort, I began pulling the man's unconscious body out, checking for signs of major injury. His blood was pooling around his nose and mouth, but there didn’t seem to be anything more serious. However, I noticed something strange—blood under his fingernails.

"What the hell?! Is he sick or something?!" My thoughts raced as I continued to drag him from the car.

Once I managed to get him onto the ground by the roadside, I looked down at his face. It was breathtaking—too perfect, angelic even. His sharp features and silver hair made him look like someone who didn’t belong in this world. He wore a black suit, perfectly tailored, and it made him look even more... captivating.

"What if I check for injuries under his shirt?" I wondered, a strange hesitation lingering in my chest.

I slapped myself mentally. "Focus, Thalassa!" I chided myself, trying to shake off the absurdity of the thought.

Instead, I reached for his neck to check for a pulse. My hands trembled for reasons I couldn’t explain. Was it his presence? Or something more? As my fingers gently pressed against the side of his neck, I felt his skin cold. Too cold. His body temperature seemed abnormally low.

Then I noticed his pulse. It was faint, slow unnaturally so. As I counted, I realized it was far below what it should be, less than twenty beats per minute.

A whirlwind of thoughts flooded my mind.

"Should I perform CPR just because his heart is slow? Is he in some kind of hibernation state? What if his body is just cold? Should I warm him up first?"

Suddenly, I saw something even more bizarre blue lines, thin and glowing, tracing across his veins and arteries beneath his skin. My curiosity got the best of me, and I unbuttoned his shirt. The lines were more visible on his chest, marking every one of his blood vessels in eerie detail. This wasn’t just the result of an accident. This looked... like an illness.

I swallowed hard. "What is happening to him? Is he contagious?" Despite the growing alarm, a strange sense of attraction lingered. My hand hesitated over his chest, and without thinking, I traced a finger along the strange blue line on his jugular.

The moment I realized what I was doing, I jerked my hand away. "Thalassa, get a grip!" I chastised myself silently, embarrassed.

I quickly buttoned his shirt back up and draped his jacket over him, not just to cover him, but to avoid any more awkwardness. I told myself it was to keep him warm.

Just then, headlights cut through the night, blinding me. Three cars were approaching a limousine, a large van, and a car transporter—all black, their lights harsh against the darkened street.

The limousine came to a stop right beside us. The other two cars followed, parking behind it. Men in black suits emerged, their movements swift and efficient, like a well-trained team. They ignored me completely, focusing only on the silver-haired man lying on the ground. Briefcases in hand, they hurried toward him, while others spread out, securing the area.

I tried to catch a glimpse of what they were doing, but one of them stepped in front of me, blocking my view.

"Are you the one I spoke to on the phone?" he asked coldly.

"I... I guess. You’re Gareth, right?" I stammered, forcing a nervous smile.

He moved closer, his posture elegant, almost aristocratic. His pale skin and meticulously combed dark brown hair gave him an air of sophistication, but his intense gaze made me uncomfortable.

"My name is Gareth Larkspur. I would appreciate it if you addressed me properly," he said, his voice a venomous hiss. "Now, would you care to introduce yourself, Miss?"

His arrogance made my head throb. I barely managed to stretch my lips into an awkward grin, holding back the irritation bubbling inside.

"My name is Thalassa Halloway... Mr. Larkspur," I forced out.

"Halloway? As in Alaric Halloway?" He smirked, his voice laced with mockery.

"Yes. Is there something wrong with that?" I snapped, irritated.

"Not at all, Ms. Halloway," he replied, his gaze lingering a moment too long.

A wave of unease washed over me. How did he know my name was fake? How had he figured it out so quickly?

I decided to change the subject before I started panicking.

"Is... is he going to be alright?" I gestured toward the silver-haired man, leaning to peek over his shoulder.

Gareth stepped to the side, blocking my view once again. "Master's condition will improve once he gets his medicine," he stated flatly, irritation creeping into his voice.

"What kind of medicine are we talking about?" I pushed, trying to provoke him.

"This is none of your concern, Ms. Halloway," he snapped.

"Well, it kind of is," I retorted, staring directly into his eyes. "His condition wasn’t caused by the accident. He’s sick. If it’s something contagious, wouldn’t it be best if I knew about it too?"

"Oh, don’t worry," Gareth chuckled coldly. "Master’s condition isn’t easily transmitted."

"Really? Then what is it?" I pressed, not about to back down.

Gareth sighed deeply, the annoyance in his voice palpable. "He was poisoned. And thanks to you, we were able to get here in time to save him."

"That’s the worst ‘thank you’ I’ve ever heard," I muttered under my breath.

"Don’t worry. I’m sure Master will reward you once he wakes up. A check, I imagine, will be more than satisfactory," he added with a hint of condescension.

"No need," I shot back. "Your master saved my life once. I’m just returning the favor."

Gareth’s eyes widened, and he leaned in, suddenly curious. "How did you meet Master before?" he asked, his voice tinged with something unsettling.