His Brother Became My Only Cure Chapter 2

I happened to be walking by when this cinematic moment occurred.

I was carrying a woven basket on my back, my face ghostly pale as I drifted like a specter toward the Verdant Slopes to forage for herbs.

Valerian stepped into my path, blocking my way.

"Hazel," he said smoothly. "Stay and be our witness. Let's see how many rounds she survives."

I shook my head, shifting the strap of my basket. "I can't. I need to gather medicine."

Valerian’s eyelids fluttered lazily. He smiled, a soft, dangerous curve of his lips. "If you refuse, I won't help you the next time your illness flares up."

I froze.

My condition is terrifying. When it hits, it feels like my blood turns to liquid nitrogen, followed by the sensation of being roasted alive from the inside out. For years, I’ve harvested herbs, brewing countless bitter concoctions, but nothing cures it.

The only thing that eases the agony is the ambient aura of Valerian’s embrace.

Terrified that he would actually leave me to burn and freeze, I nodded frantically. "Okay, okay. I’ll be your witness."

The female player shot me a sideways glance. Her scrutinizing eyes darted between Valerian and me. She let out a scoff.

"I heard the Phantom Archer had a clingy little sidekick. A childhood friend who sticks to him like glue and refuses to take a hint," she sneered. "That’s you, isn't it?"

I shook my head, my face entirely serious. "You have the wrong person. I'm way too busy trying not to die from my illness to follow him around."

The girl rolled her eyes. "Right. Sure you are."

If she didn't believe me, that was fine. I didn't have the energy to argue.