CHAPTER 8

He snapped his finger in front of me, and I glanced at him, feeling guilty. "Is everything all right with you? Please let me know what happens. What causes your limb to deteriorate?" With a glare, he inquired. I sputtered, "Um...I mean...eh..." "Are you returning from a spoken English class?" The question was asked in a light-hearted manner, and I promptly replied "no." "Why are you stuttering, then? Just let me know what happens, would you please? "He questioned.

"Alright. So this is what happened, before my bout, I went to the medic and asked for ice packs to relieve the pain in my foot. After that, I prepared to fight by donning all of my safety protections. When I heard that I would only have two fights, I genuinely felt a sense of relief. The first time I fought, my leg collided with the opponent's several times, yet I still won. Once my first bout was over, I rushed back to the medic to get some pain relief cream because my final fight was just a few minutes away. I controlled myself not to exhibit my discomfort during the last fight since I didn't want my opponent to know about my weakness, so while fighting, she accidentally hit my ankle, making it worse. Yet, despite my two-point lead, I was still able to win the game," I boasted, smiling as I was proud of myself. He had a chilly, worried expression on his face as he concentrated his gaze on me. "Congratulations! But, are you serious? How does someone cause themselves to be injured? I'm sure your feet have been badly hurt, and by now you can't even touch the ground because it will be excruciating," he sighed.

Basically, I don't understand why he is so concerned. The fact that an unknown person showed such concern for me made me feel both wonderful and frightening!

In any case, I was taken aback when he asked me how someone might injure themselves. To be completely honest, I would rather injure myself than someone else.

Then I chuckled, "I don't know about other people, but I don't really care if I get wounded." By making eye contact, he was trying to decipher the meaning of my statements. The thought of it made me nervous, so I broke eye contact with him. "Come along with me. I'll drive you to the closest clinic "He expressed his concern in his words.

"What the....? Are you serious? Is there any reason to believe that I will accompany you? Huh!" I asked with a sarcastic look on my face. How am I supposed to go out with someone I just met a few hours ago, anyway? More than that, he hasn't removed his face mask, which gives me a bad feeling. Even though he is the one who drives me to the stadium, still I cannot trust him to go out with him.

He answered, perplexed "I only want to assist you because I feel responsible for your situation. Don't stare at me as if I'm about to do anything awful to you. If you don't go to the Clinic, you'll be in a lot of agonies "He went on to explain.

He is, in fact, correct. If I tell any of my team members about my injury, they will undoubtedly chastise me for failing to notify them of the accident. Why should I be frightened by his presence? I'm a taekwondo fighter, and if he tries to hurt me, I'll beat him up.

"All right, I'll come with you, but we should be back in half an hour because my coach just advised me not to go anywhere alone," I grumbled. "Sure. So follow me and I'll take you to my car "He stated this as he extended his hand to assist me in standing.

After rolling my eyes, I added: "I'm able to walk on my own and don't require any assistance in doing so". "By the way, I won't be able to come until I've received my medal. In any case, my group-", The MC called my name to claim the medal on the stage before I finished my phrase. "All right, I'll see you later," I muttered as I snatched my jacket from him and leapt from my seat. Ah! I guess I was born at the wrong moment since I've never met somebody who jumps when they're injured.

Because of the discomfort and instability, I closed my eyes tightly. As I guessed, he held me up, or perhaps I should say he saved me from falling. His hazel brown eyes were the first thing I noticed when I opened my eyes slowly. Those eyes were so captivating that I felt like I could stand here and stare at them for the rest of my life. I stepped away from his grasp before I became engrossed in his eyes. "You're crazy," he said, chuckling. I tittered at his remark and limped onto the stage.

I hurried up to the stage and accepted my medal. When I received the gold medal with a huge grin on my face, it was an incredible feeling. I swiftly made my way to the location where my possessions were after having a photo session with my other competitors.

Without further ado, I changed my uniform, gathered my essentials, and exited the stadium before my teammates could look for me. In my search for the car, I noted that the masked man appeared to be waiting for me at his vehicle. Isn't it impressive? I, too, had the same thought. As soon as I get close to the car, I rush inside to sit because I had been unable to stand for a long time.

There was an unsettling stillness in the car. The only sound I could hear was the air conditioner pumping chilly air at me. After a while, he broke the silence by saying, "Evlyn, get down, we've arrived at the clinic." He opened the door for me before I could do it on my own, which was very appreciated. He is, indeed, a gentleman, as I am aware.

As time went on, my leg deteriorated, so he extended his hand to me to offer assistance. I took his smooth hand in mine and walked to the clinic without arguing. For the first time, aside from my father and brother, I am holding a man's hand while strolling.

His hand, by the way, is considerably larger than mine. He is certainly taller and more muscular than I am. Why am I comparing myself to his chiselled physique? Whatever. But the mysterious part is that I can't even see his face. I'm desperate to see the man beneath the mask. I'm sure he's a good-looking guy.

What the heck!! What is wrong with me? It shouldn't matter how he looks; my sole worry right now is getting back to the stadium as soon as possible.