"We'll take it from here. Get him cleaned up and have him take medicine," the guild master ordered.
A blanket was draped over Shen Xinghui's fragile frame, and Ignatius cradled him gently.
No matter how intoxicating the scent was, it did nothing to cloud his mind now.
There was no indulgence, no pleasure—only sorrow, guilt, and an unbearable hatred.
He wanted to apologize, over and over again.
Holding Shen Xinghui's exhausted, fevered body close, he carried him back to the inn.
After returning to the inn, Shen Xinghui was carefully cleaned.
The lingering aphrodisiac on his skin alone was enough to make his body ache.
While he remained unconscious, his body was gently held, and even the inside was thoroughly cleaned with careful fingers.
Once he was dressed properly, a detoxifying potion was administered.
Another dose was applied internally as well, he coating it on his finger and gently rubbing it in.
