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Maja had been by Patric’s bedside for nearly half an hour when Quentin came in, carrying a bag filled

with cold remedies. “Maja, I’ve got fever reducers here, take a look.” Maja picked out two of the fastest-

acting ones and administered them to Patric. “I just came back from the local clinic. They said a doctor

could come over to give him a shot if needed. I left my number. Should we call for it? It would bring the

fever down quicker.” Maja thought about the myriad of needle marks that would pepper Patric’s arm

and slowly shook her head. “Let’s not.” Quentin simply sat down beside her. Maja forcefully pushed the

pills into Patric’s mouth and followed them with a small glass of water. In his drowsy state, Patric

coughed a few times, half-attempting to open his eyes, but felt too weak to do so. Maja laid him back

down and began to massage her temples with her fingers. Quentin then asked, “Should we call

someone to take care of him?” “No need. The fewer people around us, the better. I have this feeling

we’re being watched.” Even though she didn’t know the intentions of those who might be watching

them, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being under surveillance. Forbidden Island was a place she

couldn’t fully understand—its governance chaotic, its social structure rigid, yet some aspects revealed

an unusual unity. One more person around them meant one more risk. She stood up to close the

window but noticed Quentin’s hand was bleeding. “What happened there?” “I got it scratched by a

branch on my way in.” Maja rummaged through the medicine Quentin had bought—it was quite

comprehensive, including treatments for external wounds. She took out a disinfectant spray and

applied it to his hand. “Quentin, are you worried about that tattoo? Don’t be. Once we find Ian, I’m sure

I can take care of that for you.” After disinfecting, she applied some ointment. Suddenly, the lights in the

room went out. Maja glanced out the window, only to see that the entire island was in darkness.

“What’s going on?” Before she finished her sentence, she heard a sound overhead and instinctively

pushed Quentin aside. “Creak.” “Crash!” The spot where they had been sitting was instantly struck by a

falling chandelier. Although Maja was quick to react, her ankle was hit, and she felt a sharp, piercing

pain. Quentin was unharmed, but he could smell the scent of blood. “Maja?” “Hisss.” Maja gasped in

pain. “It’s nothing, just the chandelier falling. I checked outside, the whole island is out of power. Let’s

wait, they should fix it.” Quentin stood up and, using the light from his phone, checked Maja’s ankle.

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Her ankle was nearly crushed by the chandelier and was bleeding profusely. The villa’s chandelier was

not light, and its weight was considerable. Quentin moved the chandelier aside, reached for the

disinfectant spray, but the wound was too long. Disinfection was not enough. Stitches were necessary.

He frowned, and in the darkness, there was no need to fake an expression, so a sly smile crept on his

face. “You didn’t have to push me away. I could’ve dodged it.” “You’ve never been trained in combat.

How would you dodge it? Hisss.” Maja held her ankle, sweat dripping from her forehead. “Quentin, call

that doctor back, the wound needs stitching. Disinfecting alone won’t stop the bleeding. Plus, I’m

pregnant, and any anesthesia used must be safe for pregnant women.” Quentin immediately took out

his phone and called the doctor. The doctor arrived quickly and stitched up the wound. The room was

still dark. Quentin stood in the shadows, the blood in the palm of his hand all belonging to Maja. He

furrowed his brow, went to the washroom, and washed the blood off, his expression revealing a hint of

disgust.

The will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

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