The Unconscious Man's Identity

[Two people are still too few, Host.]

Medeia let out a slow, frustrated breath. "Oh, come on! How many do I need to save before I can complete this damn mission?" The system had an annoying habit of throwing vague tasks at her without ever explaining the full conditions.

[At least ten, Host.]

She nearly lost it. "Then why the hell didn't you say that from the start?! Are you—"

"Medeia," Lucian interrupted before she could curse on the system. "His breathing … it's stabilizing."

She snapped her mouth shut and looked down. The man's chest rose and fell in slow, rhythmic movements. His frostbitten fingers were still blackened from the cold, but that was a problem for later. Maybe Sister Jeanne could help him—or, worst case scenario, his hands might need to be amputated.

The most important thing was that she had saved two people now!