Krygan gently pulled my arms to help me sit up. The dampness of my shirt clung to my skin, soaked through from sweat. I immediately hunched forward, instinctively covering my chest with my arms, my face burning with embarrassment and frustration.
He was caught off guard—his eyes widened in surprise—and he coughed, stepping back slightly. I could feel blood and saliva pooling in my mouth, thick and bitter. Without thinking, I spat it out, the sound sharp in the quiet tension between us.
Krygan's gaze softened, concern flickering across his face. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, almost hesitant.
I shot him a glare, my voice sharp and trembling. "Of course not!"
He hesitated, then said, "Promise me you won't run away."
I hesitated, then nodded stiffly. Without a word, Krygan reached out and, with a flick of his fingers—like magic—my bindings vanished. I stumbled slightly as my arms were freed, but I managed to stay upright.
He reached behind him and retrieved something—a pair of my broken fake eyeglasses. I looked down at them, then tried a weak joke to break the tension. "Well, I can't run away now—I'm technically blind."
Krygan's face was etched with pity, his eyes softening. "You, Hunter, and I need to talk."
Before I could react, he grabbed my arm again, and pain shot through my body like lightning. I yelped involuntarily, pulling back.
"Awwww!" I exclaimed, the sudden pain making my voice crack.
Krygan's eyes widened in panic, and he quickly let go. "I swear I didn't do anything—I didn't mean to hurt you."
I lifted my elbow instinctively, revealing a wide, raw graze running along the skin. "Of course you did—you lunged at me!" I snapped, my voice tinged with anger and hurt.
Instead of apologizing, Krygan gently lifted me into his arms, cradling me as if I were fragile. His touch was surprisingly careful, almost tender.
"You need to go to the clinic," he said quietly, concern deep in his voice.
"I can still walk, you know," I muttered stubbornly, trying to push him away.
The next thing I knew, his hand had zipped my mouth shut. My eyes widened in shock and disbelief. I tried to protest, but the sudden silence was deafening.
Just then, Hunter bumped into us, his face twisted with confusion and rage.
"We'll talk later, Hunter," Krygan said casually, trying to keep his tone steady. "Let me take her to the clinic first."
He strode past Hunter, carrying me effortlessly, as we drew attention from the passing students. I bowed my head, burrowing my face into his shoulder, the whispers of their gossip echoing in my ears.
When we finally reached the infirmary, I caught a glimpse of my reflection through the tinted glass of the door. My hair was a tangled mess, strands of grass sticking out like wild tendrils. My shirt was dirt-stained and soaked with sweat. My face was grimy, exhausted, and raw from the struggle.
The nurse gently guided me to sit on one of the sterile beds. Her calm, practiced hands moved swiftly, pulling out antiseptic and dabbing it carefully over my wound. The sting was sharp, but I was used to worse—grazes like these were just part of working at the farm.
She glanced at Krygan, then back at me, her eyes soft with concern. "Doesn't it hurt?" she asked gently.
I shrugged, trying to downplay it. "A little, but I'm fine."
The nurse nodded understandingly. "Please take a shower first before I bandage you up properly," she urged softly, her voice comforting.
When I stepped out, in fresh clothes provided by the infirmary, I saw Krygan already sleeping on one of the beds—his breathing even, peaceful in a way that felt almost out of place given everything that had just transpired. I slowly picked up my broken eyeglasses from his hands.
I quietly thanked the nurse, who gave me a reassuring smile, and slipped out of the infirmary unnoticed.
I called Kelsey and left a quick message, but she and the others were already waiting at the dining hall for lunch. When I reached the buffet line, I tried to focus on filling my tray, ignoring the whispers and sidelong glances behind me.
Girls were muttering among themselves, their voices just loud enough to hear.
"Isn't she the girl Krygan carried to the infirmary? She's damn lucky."
A flush of annoyance prickled at my skin, but I clenched my fists inwardly. I let it go, pushing the words aside, and concentrated on grabbing some food—my stomach was growling fiercely. I scanned the room for my friends but couldn't see them anywhere. With a resigned sigh, I took a vacant seat nearby, leaving Kelsey a quick message before I started eating.
I only managed a few bites of meat before a sharp pain shot through my lip, making me grimace. I was too exhausted to care about the teasing, so I kept my head low and focused on my plate.
Suddenly, a group of girls approached, huddling in front of me, their eyes filled with curiosity and something else—mockery?
"So, you're 'the girl,'" one of them sneered, her high-pitched voice cutting through the hum of the dining hall. "What made you think you could have Krygan carry you in his arms?"
I looked up slowly, trying to keep my expression neutral despite the fatigue and irritation swirling inside me.
Because I was still famished from all the running and my body was protesting, I didn't have the energy to argue. Instead, I feigned innocence, shrugging slightly. "Who? It wasn't me!"
The girl looked confused, taking a hesitant step backward. She fished out her phone and showed it to her friends, glancing between the screen and me.
I saw her keep checking the phone, her expression flickering between curiosity and skepticism, and I could tell she was trying to find some proof—probably some photo or message to confirm her suspicions.
The girl slammed her phone onto the table with a loud crack, the impact making my tray and food jump.
"Really? You're the only one here with black hair and white streaks. Are you still going to deny it?" she sneered, her eyes narrowing with suspicion and anger.
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm despite the growing tension inside me. My voice was steady as I replied, "It wasn't me," and I kept eating, pretending I didn't notice her provocation.
"Huh," she scoffed, then without warning, she grabbed the juice box from one of her friends and poured it directly onto the meat I was eating.
The entire dining hall gasped collectively, a wave of shock rippling through the room. My stomach clenched, but I was too exhausted, too fed up to care. I watched as the orange juice soaked into the meat, turning it into a soggy mess. I kept my expression neutral, nodding slowly in satisfaction as I chewed the tasteless, juice-soaked meat.
But then, she grunted in frustration and, in one swift motion, flipped my tray, sending the meat and my food flying in all directions.
"Ha!" she exclaimed with a cruel smile. "Take that as a warning—no one messes with Krygan."
I didn't react immediately. My jaw clenched tightly, my hands trembling slightly as I pushed away the mess on my shirt. I clenched my fists around the spoon, white-knuckled, feeling every muscle in my body tense.
The girl's confidence wavered as she saw my silence.
I stood slowly, deliberately, causing the others to step back instinctively.
"No one messes with my food," I said calmly, voice low but firm.
Then, in a blur of motion, I jumped over the long table, my foot connecting with her chest. She flew backward, crashing to the ground with a painful thud.
The hall erupted into shocked gasps and murmurs. The girls she'd been with hurriedly retreated, their faces pale with fear.
She clutched her chest, her face contorted in pain, fear flickering in her eyes. She was speechless, stunned by the sudden turn of events.
I crouched beside her, holding the spoon like a weapon, and leaned in close, whispering coldly, "I almost killed a man. Don't make me do it for real."
A faint smile played on my lips as I looked down at her trembling form.
I reached out and gently grabbed her arm, helping her to her feet.
"It was an accident… right?" I asked softly, almost apologetically.
She nodded hurriedly, her face etched with fear, and quickly walked away, leaving a trail of trembling footsteps behind her.
The room was silent, save for the heavy breathing of everyone watching. I stood there for a moment, then straightened, and left the hall.
-----
I bumped into Hunter at the exit, and he looked at me with a mixture of confusion and seriousness.
"I was looking for you," he said, his tone tense. "You and I need to talk."
I just rolled my eyes and kept walking past him, determined to avoid the confrontation. But he wasn't done.
He reached out quickly, grabbing my arm—my wounded arm—and I could feel his fingers digging into the flesh.
"Wait," he muttered, his voice edged with worry.
Before I could pull away, he yanked me closer, inspecting the bandage. His eyes widened as he felt something beneath it—something wet.
He held my arm high, his brow furrowing with concern. Under his fingertips, I saw the fresh blood seeping through the bandage, overflowing and threatening to drip down.