Arfen Finch frowned, walking to the bedside to gaze at Iria Lindsay on the pillow.
Her eyes were tightly closed, her whole being appeared peaceful as if asleep, her face pale and devoid of any blood, and her breathing seemed extremely light.
Soft footsteps were heard, and a subordinate ran in.
"Sir, the ship is ready, we can leave at any time."
"I know."
Arfen Finch responded softly, his eyes just fixated on Iria Lindsay's face, not moving away.
Time ticked by second by second, and he remained seated there, watching Iria Lindsay without moving or speaking.
"Sir." The subordinate who booked the ship glanced at his watch, "If we don't go now, it will be too late for the ship."
"Sir, we'd better leave now!" a subordinate whispered.
Now, here, they were like arrows on a bowstring, unwilling to stay here to die.
