A girl lay sleeping on the bed, her long red hair fanned out like a vivid sunset across the pillow. The soft strands glistened in the dim light, creating an almost ethereal glow around her. Her pink lips formed a small pout, as if she was slightly upset about something even in her dreams.
Rayan watched her delicate features—the tiny nose, soft chin, gentle eyelids. He couldn't help but admire her beauty for a moment.
Then reality snapped back. Observing a stranger sleeping without her permission felt wrong. He quickly looked away, a flash of surprise in his eyes. It wasn't like him.
He took a deep breath, his face returning to its usual steely expression—one that often scared others.
Closing the door behind him, he looked around the hut. It was sparsely furnished, devoid of any unnecessary decorations or comforts. There was no one in the other room room, no one else in sight—was that girl alone in this hut?
Did her family consider it safe to leave her here alone with a stranger like him?
Rayan frowned, a thousand questions swirling in his mind.
Who had brought him here?
With no one around to satisfy his curiosity, he made his way to the only window of the hut. He peered outside, and his frown deepened. The weather didn't look quite pleasant, but it was more than just the clouds overhead that unsettled him. The stark realization hit him.
The hut was completely isolated.
Where exactly was he?
After a moment of fruitless pondering, he returned to the wooden board where he had been resting.
His hand went to his chest.
As far as he remembered, he was being chased by Ulrik soldiers. Heavily wounded, he had succumbed to the injuries. A soldier had even stabbed him in the chest.
The wound was there but not as serious as it should been because of being stabbed by the sword...which was quite surprising.
The wounds on other parts of his body were not serious to being with. With a rest of a day or two, he should be able to continue his journey effortlessly.
He leaned his elbow on his forehead and decided to rest for a bit longer, planning to question the girl when she woke up. He needed answers—before he could figure out how to return to whatever life he had left behind.
His people were still waiting for him.
Just as he began to drift into sleep, a light touch on his arm jolted him awake.
Instinct took over. Years of training as a martial artist had instilled in him a reflex to resist any unseen touch, as it could belong to an enemy. Without thinking, Rayan twisted the person's hand behind his back and flipped their positions, pinning the person down with a sudden, swift motion.
"Ah!"
A scream filled with fear escaped Aria's lips, her brown eyes wide with shock as she found herself beneath him.
Rayan's expression hardened, his gaze steely and emotionless. His other hand instinctively moved toward the person's throat, ready to defend himself from a perceived threat.
Aria trembled beneath his gaze, her fear palpable in the tense air.
As she gazed into the cold blue eyes of the man squeezing her throat, Aria suddenly wondered whether she had brought the most dangerous species of human inside her hut.
Should she have listened to her grandmother's warnings?
On the other hand, Rayan had a frown on his forehead as he stared at the girl below himself.
It was only when he recognized her as the same girl he had seen before drifting off to sleep that he eased his grip slightly. Slowly, he released her, and she seized the opportunity to scramble away, retreating to the farthest corner of the room. Caution clouded her eyes as she cradled her wrist which he had twisted behind her back.
Rayan rubbed his face with his hand, feeling the weight of his actions settling heavily on his shoulders.
That was not how a knight behaved with the people who saved his life.
But then, Rayan never needed to be saved by others. He had saved many lives but never did he need others to save him.
He took a deep breath, attempting to regain some calmness. His eyes flickered back to Aria. As he noticed her trembling form, he cursed under his breath.
'You bastard...'
He collected himself and reassured her.
"I will not harm you."
Yet, Aria still looked terrified, and Rayan cursed himself again. He didn't realize that his frustrated demeanor was only making her more anxious.
His gaze returned to her wrist, which she held protectively. It was already red and bruised. Confusion washed over him. He hadn't used that much force—was she really so fragile?
In his speechlessness, he attempted to rise from the wooden board to inspect her hand more closely, but a sharp pain erupted from his wound, forcing him to hiss and sit back down. The discomfort was a harsh reminder of his own vulnerability.
A moment later, he opened his eyes to find her standing before him again, this time with a look of concern etched across her features.
"He Lan Weriya?" (Are you alright?)
She asked softly, her voice low and soothing.
Rayan frowned, trying to decipher her words. He was familiar with the language of Ulrik's people, but this was different. Had he somehow crossed into another land altogether?
"Are you from Ulrik?"
He asked, half expecting her to understand.
Aria, however, seemed perplexed. She didn't understand his words. Her expressions were enough for Rayan to understand that she didn't know his language.
The only thing she grasped was that his gaze fell on her hand again, which was still hovering near him.
Her eyes widened slightly and she quickly pulled her hand back.
"Li Hontey!" (I apologize)
She exclaimed, moving away from him again, her tone urgent and apologetic.
Rayan looked at her in confusion, not comprehending why she seemed so panicked or what she meant.
"What happened?" he asked in confusion.
But she merely shook her head and replied
"Kewe?" (What?)
Rayan closed his eyes. She couldn't comprehend him, and he couldn't grasp her words. This added another layer to his already mounting problems. How could he ask where he was?
On the other hand, seeing his closed eyes, Aria though he was exhausted.
He had shed too much blood back then and he had not even eaten anything.
So when Rayan raised his head again, he watched as she walked away from him, heading toward the stove in the corner. It seemed to be her kitchen, though it was small and cramped. He observed silently as she rummaged through a basket, pulling out various plants before starting to grind them on a stone.
As she busied herself, he laid back down on the wooden board, careful not to disturb his wound.
His cold eyes stared at her busy form without any emotion.
Rayan's eyes flashed with a forlorn look as if he remembered something. He came out of his thoughts when he saw that the girl was finished with her work.
His eyebrows raised when she stood up with a paste made from the leaves and approached him once more. Knowing that she wouldn't understand his words, he could only observe her silently as she pointed toward his wound and then toward the paste.
She wanted to apply it to his injury.
Understanding her intention, Rayan nodded in agreement. He was about to sit up to take the bowl from her, but he was taken aback when she sat beside him and began applying the paste with her soft fingers.
He wanted to protest. Did she not know that a lady shouldn't touch a man in this manner—especially not an unmarried woman. Such an act could lead to questions about her virtue.
But then a different question surfaced in his mind.
'Was she unmarried?'
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