Chapter 9

"Should I make him drink this?" Aina asked the black-haired man standing before her. He was the one who had injured Alan, yet he was also the one who provided the antidote.

She needed to make sure it was meant to be ingested and not applied to Alan's wound. This liquid might have been meant to be dripped onto the injury instead.

"Yes," the archer answered curtly. So it was indeed to be taken orally.

"Don't move from this spot until I confirm this is a real antidote and that it truly helps Alan recover." Aina glared at the man, her eyes issuing a clear warning.

The man's face looked as though he was deep in thought.

Aina ignored it. She decided to open the small glass bottle in her hand.

"But you told me earlier that after I handed over the antidote, you'd let me take your valuables and not stop me."

His words froze Aina's hand. She frowned—she had indeed said that.

But she didn't want him to just walk away. The antidote could easily be fake.

"I'm not letting you leave until Alan recovers. For all I know, this antidote is fake, and the poison won't disappear."

Aina finally voiced her reasoning.

The man scoffed, smirking slightly. "Yes, the antidote is fake."

Aina froze. Her gaze sharpened on the man, but before she could speak, he interrupted her.

"Now, hand over your valuables, and I'll give you the real antidote."

If the antidote in her hand was indeed fake, Aina thought, this man was clever.

But why hadn't he just taken her belongings by force? Why was he asking her to fetch them?

"Why don't you take them yourself?" Aina asked, her tone icy.

"I don't want to waste time searching your carriage—or waiting for him to recover." The man's eyes shifted to Alan.

So that was the reason, Aina concluded.

But she still needed to confirm one more thing.

Setting Alan down on the ground, Aina rose to her feet. At the same time, the man took a step back, his face tense.

Aina raised her hand, and a gust of wind swirled around the man.

She then lowered her hand, observing his fearful expression.

"If anything happens to Alan, you'll stop breathing. So give me the real antidote. Now." Aina emphasized the last word.

The man's face grew even tenser, turning pale.

Aina was only testing him. Her threat was an empty one.

The wind she had summoned wouldn't stop his breathing—it was merely an ordinary gust.

She aimed to pressure him into handing over the real antidote.

"You already have it. What more do you want from me?" the man muttered darkly.

Aina raised an eyebrow, her gaze falling on the bottle in her hand. So, it was real?

"Remember, if anything happens to Alan, you'll face the consequences too," Aina warned again.

"I'm not lying."

Relief and irritation surged within Aina simultaneously. She had successfully gotten the truth out of him, even though the man hadn't intended to deceive her in the first place.

His lie had only wasted her time.

Aina quickly administered the liquid to Alan.

"It might take a few minutes for him to wake up," the man said.

He then moved toward Aina's carriage, finally willing to search for whatever it was he wanted himself.

Meanwhile, Aina cradled Alan's head, watching as her cloth bag was carried away.

"Wait!" Aina called out, stopping the man in his tracks.

He turned stiffly, suspecting she wouldn't let him leave with the bag slung over his shoulder. But he was wrong.

"Aren't you going to help your friends?" Aina asked.

She was referring to the five unconscious people around her.

"They're not my friends," he replied.

"They're not your group?" Aina asked again, seeking clarity.

"No," he answered tersely.

Aina paused for a moment.

"Is that all? Any more questions? If not, I'll be on my way." The man began to move again, ready to leave if she had nothing else to say.

One last question from Aina: "Who are you?"

The man's dark eyes locked onto hers. He opened his mouth. "Just an unemployed man with a hobby for archery."

Aina's question had been imprecise. Aside from his identity, she had also wanted to know his name.

She resolved to remember everything about him—his face, his words. Someday, that information might prove useful.

Even without knowing his name, at least she had his face etched in her mind.

Aina watched as he walked away.

"Ugh." A sound came from someone nearby.

It was Alan, lying in her lap. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, half-lidded.

Hearing his groan, Aina leaned down to check on him, their faces now close to each other.

Alan's half-open eyes widened immediately.

Startled, he sat up abruptly—his forehead bumping into Aina's.

"Ow!" Aina cried, clutching her forehead.

Alan's head fell back into her lap as he winced again. His sudden movement had aggravated his shoulder wound.

"Why did you bump your head into mine?! Is that your way of saying thank you?!" Aina finally let her frustration spill out.

She had been holding it back ever since meeting Alan. No matter how annoyed she was, she would suppress it out of gratitude for his help.

But this time, she couldn't.

Alan didn't respond to her outburst. Instead, he slowly sat up again, this time moving carefully.

Aina adjusted her posture to prevent a repeat of their earlier mishap.

As he sat up, Alan looked at his shoulder, gently touching the shallow wound.

"How do you feel?" Aina asked, trying to gauge his condition.

"Huh?" Alan blinked at her, still a bit dazed.

She rephrased the question. "Do you still feel pain or discomfort anywhere?"

"No. My shoulder hurts a little, but it's barely noticeable."

"Well, that's good."

Alan blinked a few more times before standing up.

Aina also stood beside him.

"Are you all right, Lady Aina?" Alan asked, turning to face her.

She nodded once. "But it seems I've lost everything I was carrying."

Alan frowned, both at her words and as his vision blurred again.

"They managed to rob us, huh?" he muttered.

Aina found his tone oddly soft. She had never seen Alan look so weak before.

"It wasn't them. Just one person—the archer who managed to defeat you."

Alan didn't seem to have noticed the five unconscious bodies around them.

He smiled faintly. "Are you mocking me?"

Alan tried to maintain his usual demeanor, but his weakened state only allowed for a fragile smile.

Aina was about to respond when Alan suddenly leaned toward her.

Instinctively, she caught him, his head now resting on her shoulder.

"Hey! Are you okay?" Aina asked, panic creeping into her voice.

But there was no answer.

Would Alan be okay?

***