The woman sat upright, her expression turning serious as she recovered from her wounds. Though relief washed over her at having escaped the chasing mob, her past experiences had hardened her heart.
She had learned long ago that people were cruel—seeing her as nothing more than a beast. Even now, sitting beside Kent, she remained cautious, her guard never lowering completely.
"So, tell me—who are you? And why did you save me?" she asked, her voice steady but filled with wariness.
Kent, sensing the weight behind her words, withdrew his hand from tending to her wounds on the soft thigh and met her gaze. His eyes held no hostility, only a quiet intensity.
"Before I tell you who I am, you should first tell me who you are," he replied in a serious tone. "I'm not the one seeking help here."
