The deep-set features, sharp sword-like eyebrows, blue eyes, and overly pale complexion

made him look just like a vampire duke out of legend.

Hannah squatted on the ground, applying the medicine she carried to stop Arnold’s bleeding.

Listening to Gregory’s nervous prattling, she frowned, "Quiet down."

Gregory stopped talking.

Then Hannah focused on applying medicine to Arnold’s wound again.

All of these were the best remedies, capable of stopping bleeding from even the most severe wounds within ten seconds just by applying them.

But it was useless.

Useless on Arnold’s wound.

Because the fangs of the fearsome creature carried poison.

Watching the blood continue to flow unhindered from Arnold’s wound, Hannah’s face remained calm, but only Arnold could feel it—

her hands were trembling.

She was afraid.

He reached out and held her trembling hand that was holding the medicine, then cracked a smile, "I’m fine."

Arnold’s complexion was pale and weak, with sweat continuously rolling off his forehead.

But his eyes remained bright and pure from beginning to end.

Because those eyes were filled with Hannah.

With her, and only her.

Hannah lowered her head, her curled lashes quivered, her lips tightly pressed, "You won’t have any problems."

She said so.

Arnold nodded and embraced her with all the strength he could muster.

Even though his wound sent tearing, burning pain, his expression didn’t change.

He said, "Hannah, I won’t have any problems."

They tacitly didn’t mention that word.

The fearsome creature had hidden away, and the dark mist had dissipated as well.

Arnold’s injuries remained severe, and by nightfall, he had fallen into a coma.

No sooner had the fire been kindled than Hannah stood up.

Gregory looked at her, "Where are you going?"

Hannah said, "To find medicine."

Arnold’s wounds hadn’t healed because of the poison from the fearsome creature.

And the medicine he needed was in the Blackwood Forest.

But to go in search of the medicine at this time was simply—

"Aren’t you seeking death? You’re also injured!" Gregory firmly objected to Hannah’s departure.

In the battle they had just fought, Hannah and Arnold were always in the front.

Arnold was gravely injured, but Hannah was not faring much better.

"He got injured because he was saving me," said Hannah.

The fearsome creature’s final strike, as it fled, was aimed at Hannah.

Because she had inflicted the most damage on it and had even almost pierced its vital spot once.

The creature held a grudge and naturally sought revenge on Hannah.

But Arnold had taken the hit for her.

He had rolled to the side while holding Hannah, but his shoulder was bitten hard by the creature.

"But..."

Gregory wanted to say more but was stopped by solitude, "Go then, I’ll take good care of him."

Hannah said, "Thank you."

After that, she turned and left.

The white mist had mostly cleared, and in the night one could vaguely make out the swaying silhouettes of distant trees.

It was like the forest in a dark fairytale, home to monsters and witches.

...

The next night, Hannah returned.

In her hand, she held a plant with purple flowers in bloom.

Gregory, knowledgeable in many things, recognized it at once as purple heart.

A herb with miraculous effects on healing external wounds.

It was a fixture on the bounty boards of the Hunters Guild year-round, but only three people had ever successfully found and retrieved it to complete the task.

Because purple heart either grew on cliff faces or near the dens of mutated beasts.

Moreover, purple heart flowered only once every thirty years, with a blooming period of just one day, and if picked too early or too late, it had no medicinal effect at all.