Unreasonable, Forced Arguments

Cynthia couldn't help but gasp.

After a dizzying spin, Cynthia found herself held tightly in Tristan's embrace.

Worried that she might put pressure on his wound, she dared not move and could only obediently nestle into Tristan's arms.

"Sleep," Tristan said softly.

Cynthia gazed at Tristan, so close, her mind replaying his words: "Don't be afraid, I'm here."

The cold, low, gentle tone was identical to the man she had met in Philadel all those years ago.

And his eyes.

From the first time Cynthia saw Tristan, she felt like she had met him before, but she couldn't recall exactly when.

Until the night in that pitch-black tunnel, when he looked at her.

Was it him?

The man who had stayed up all night to protect her in Philadel—was that Tristan?

Cynthia had originally planned to get up after Tristan fell asleep to prepare some easy-to-digest food, but instead, she unknowingly fell into a deep sleep in his arms.

However, her sleep was far from peaceful.