Marc tucked the phone and the pink card into his backpack. He also slid in two small ring boxes.Then, he changed into a clean white short-sleeve T-shirt and a pair of long jeans—giving himself a fresher, more put-together look.He stepped out through the front door of the now-ruined inn.Taking one last glance at the place, he let out a deep breath.“Sorry… I couldn’t protect you,” he whispered, his voice thick with regret and sorrow. Without lingering, he turned around and kept walking.He made his way through the scattered debris in the front yard until he reached the gate—which had also collapsed.Despite the state of his body, he felt strong, healthy even. But he still needed more time to fully restore his inner energy.When he glanced at his right arm, however, his brow furrowed sharply.“Damn... Was my injury really this bad?”There was no blood, but the wound hadn’t healed. His arm was stiff, almost immobile. It felt like the bones were fractured and the muscles deeply torn.I

"Don't worry. Your arm will be healed in no time."Darla spoke with enthusiasm as she gently rubbed balm onto the wounded spots on Marc’s arm. She moved with the kind of care you'd expect from someone tending to family, not a stranger."Alright, done! Now watch the magic of this balm I made. You’re going to be amazed by the results."She closed the small clear bottle with a sparkle in her eyes and confidence in her voice. That balm had cured almost every injury she or her family had ever suffered. And now, she had applied a generous amount on Marc. Surely, the healing effects would kick in immediately—right?"I hope so," Marc replied with a faint smile.Truthfully, he wanted to stop her from applying it. Not because he didn’t appreciate the gesture, but because he knew better. Even the legendary King Yarsagumba wouldn’t do anything for a wound like his.“Alright then, don’t dwell on it too much,” Darla said, frowning slightly, puzzled by his lack of enthusiasm. “I’m sure in half an ho

"Alright."Darla rose from her chair with a lazy stretch, making her way to join her parents in meeting with Marc.They were about to head into the front lounge when Darla suddenly stopped them."Wait. Marc isn’t in the front room."Thomas and Annette paused mid-step, exchanging puzzled glances."What do you mean? Then where is he?""He’s at the infirmary."The infirmary was a separate building located at the back of the Quentin family estate. Despite its ordinary-sounding name, it wasn’t a place just anyone could enter.It was where Darla studied traditional medicine and concocted herbal remedies. Aside from the Quentin family or select nobles, no one else had ever been allowed inside."The infirmary?"Thomas and Annette echoed the question in unison, confusion creeping into their voices. Marc was a master healer. If he was at the infirmary, it couldn’t possibly be to receive treatment—could it?"Yes. Are we going to talk about this all night, or are we going?"This time, it was Darl

“What your father said is true, sweetheart.”Annette gently placed her hand on Darla’s shoulder.“As long as we’re alive, we’ll never let you suffer—certainly not by marrying Earl von Walenstein or anything else.”“Mom… Dad…”Their words moved Darla deeply. She leaned into her mother’s shoulder and cried.Darla wasn’t someone who cried easily—especially not in front of others. But the pressure she felt over Godfrey’s proposal had been building like a storm, and now, in front of Marc, the dam finally broke.Meanwhile, Marc sat quietly across from the three of them. Though his expression was calm, a flurry of thoughts clearly stirred beneath the surface.On one hand, he could feel the immense weight pressing down on the Quentin family. Refusing Godfrey’s proposal wasn’t just difficult—it was nearly impossible. Such a rejection would be taken as a grave insult, and the consequences could be devastating. At best, harsh punishment. At worst… war between noble houses.Yet, on the other hand

The Bentayga cruised smoothly along the private road, drawing closer to the main gates—marking the edge of the sprawling Quentin estate, which spanned over a hundred hectares. Just as they were nearing the boundary, Bachary finally broke the silence.“Mr. Belmont… may I ask where exactly we’re going?”With a quick glance at Marc and then back to the road ahead, Bachary’s tone was laced with curiosity.What on earth was going on with his employers?And what exactly was Marc planning by heading out like this?These thoughts had been tumbling through his mind ever since they left the estate.“Pinewood,” Marc answered calmly.“Take me to Pinewood.”“Understood, sir,” Bachary replied.He steered the Bentayga to the right as they exited the estate. It was the route that would lead them straight to their destination.“Mr. Belmont… Forgive me for asking, but... may I know what this is about now?”Bachary shot a cautious glance toward Marc, uncertainty in his voice. He was afraid the question