The Heiress Reborn with A Mystic Space Free Preview

"Lillian… you have to keep the jade key safe."

The frail woman on the hospital bed clutched her little daughter's arm with what little strength she had left. Her fingers trembled, icy and weak, yet urgent enough to hold on tight. Her voice shook, every word forced out as if it might be her last.

"Leave the Sinclair family. Go to Kingston. Find Sebastian Whitmore…"

“Mom!”

Lillian Sinclair bolted upright.

Darkness swallowed her whole.

A suffocating stench of rot and damp mold flooded her lungs. For a split second, panic flashed through her eyes—then it vanished, replaced by something far colder.

She drew her knees to her chest. Metal rattled.

Heavy iron chains locked around her ankles and her neck, biting into skin that had long since lost any softness. The movement sent a hollow clanking echo through the basement. Her clothes hung in tatters, barely covering her skeletal frame, stiff with dried blood. Old wounds overlapped new ones—slashes, burns, bite marks—layered until her body looked more like a battlefield than human flesh.

She was nothing but skin stretched over bone.

If not for the faint, uneven rise of her chest, she could have passed for a corpse.

She no longer remembered how long she'd been trapped in this lightless hell. Years, maybe. Days blurred into nights that never ended. Her only companions were rats gnawing in the corners, mosquitoes feasting on her skin, and pain—endless, methodical pain.

Footsteps suddenly echoed above.

Fast. Purposeful.

The basement door creaked open, and a thin blade of light cut through the darkness.

Lillian narrowed her eyes instinctively, lips curling into a faint, bitter sneer.

Here we go again.

Whips… or poison today?

Several men in black filed in without a word. Their movements were practiced, efficient—like this was routine. Rough hands yanked her up from the corner and dragged her across the floor. She didn't resist. There was no point.

They tossed her down like trash.

High heels clicked against the concrete, sharp and deliberate, each step echoing like a countdown. The sound stopped in front of her.

A pair of diamond-studded heels came into view.

The heel lifted—then slammed down hard on Lillian's blood-smeared hand.

“Ugh—!”

The sound was ripped from her throat, raw and broken.

Vivian Prescott arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across her lips as she looked down at the ruined figure at her feet.

"Well?" she said lightly, her tone sweet enough to rot teeth. "Lillian, how does it feel… living worse than a rat?"

Slowly, painfully, the figure on the ground lifted her head.

Her face was a nightmare.

So disfigured it barely resembled a human's. Red scars crisscrossed her skin like writhing worms, swollen and grotesque. Not a patch of smooth flesh remained. Her cheeks were sunken and puckered, her features twisted until she looked more like a monster than a girl.

Lillian stared up at the elegant woman above her and laughed.

The sound scraped through the air like shattered glass—hoarse, broken, agonizing to hear.

She clenched her teeth and forced the words out, each one soaked in venom.

“Good. I'll remember your kindness for the rest of my life."

Her bloodshot eyes burned crimson as they locked onto Vivian's face. "I'll never forget it."

Vivian didn't flinch.

If anything, her smile grew warmer.

"You're welcome," she replied pleasantly. "I'm just doing my duty. After all, I am your stepmother."

She tilted her head, voice softening as if offering sincere advice.

"Oh, and your father made himself very clear. Hand over the jade key your mother left you, and he'll let you walk out of here. You'll return to society as the respected Miss Sinclair again."

She sighed theatrically.

"Think about it. Sinclair Group is thriving. Wouldn't it be better for you to benefit from that instead of wasting away here?"

A cold laugh escaped Lillian's lips.

Her gaze turned glacial.

"You think you're worthy of my mother's things?"

This woman—this snake wrapped in kindness—was the one who murdered her mother, the one who stripped her of everything and dragged her from the cherished daughter of the Sinclair family into this half-dead thing rotting in a basement.

Lillian's laughter grew harsher.

"Let's see how long the Sinclair Group keeps shining without my mom's medicine," she rasped. "Hahaha…"

The sound echoed through the damp space, chilling and mad. A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye, carving a clean path through the grooves on her face before disappearing.

Vivian's smile finally cracked.

Her eyes darkened, hatred flashing through them.

"Don't be ungrateful," she snapped. "If Sinclair Group collapses, do you really think that benefits you?"

She leaned closer, voice dropping low and sharp.

"Hand over the jade key, and I'll let you walk out alive. Refuse… and you'll never see the sunlight again."

Her patience was gone.

She needed that key—now.

Vivian had discovered its existence by accident.

Among Catherine Dawson's belongings, she'd found a small notebook, filled with Catherine's own handwriting. Inside was a single line that had haunted her ever since:

The jade key unlocks the Apothecary King's secret formula. Whoever holds it will dominate the world of medicine.

Vivian hadn't fully understood it at first—but she knew one thing for certain.

Catherine's godlike medical skills were tied to that key.

She'd searched everywhere. Catherine's room. Her labs. Every place she'd ever been.

Nothing.

Which left only one possibility.

Catherine had given it to her daughter, Lillian.

But, no matter how vicious the torture. No matter what methods Vivian used.

Lillian never gave it up.

The thought alone made Vivian's teeth grind with fury.

A voice suddenly came from the doorway, young and impatient.

"Mom—how did it go?"

A pause.

"Did she talk?"

A soft, almost gentle voice cut through the heavy air.

A young woman in her early twenties stepped into the basement. She bore an unmistakable resemblance to Vivian—roughly seventy percent alike. The same elegant features, the same carefully sculpted beauty.

She wore a pale blue dress that skimmed her tall, slender frame. Her face looked pure, innocent, almost fragile. Anyone seeing her for the first time would never suspect the coldness lurking beneath that soft exterior.

"No," Vivian said flatly, her gaze fixed on the broken figure slumped on the floor. "The little bitch still won't talk."

No matter how far she pushed, no matter how much pain she inflicted, Vivian couldn't understand why.

Why wouldn't this woman hand over the Jade Key?

Just like her mother—cheap, stubborn, and infuriating to the very end.

Chloe's eyes flicked toward the woman on the ground. A trace of icy amusement flashed through them as she curled her lips into a sneer.

"Why make things so hard for yourself?" she said lightly. "If you'd just give up the Jade Key, you could spare yourself all this suffering."

Lilian slowly lifted her head.

Her lips twisted into a smile—ugly, bitter, dripping with malice.

When she was six, her mother died in a so-called car accident.

Her father brought home a new wife soon after—along with that woman's illegitimate daughter, barely half a year younger than her.

Years later, Lilian learned the truth: the crash hadn't been an accident at all. It had been carefully planned.

By her stepmother.

When she was eight, she was kidnapped, sold deep into the mountains by human traffickers.

Also arranged by her stepmother.

At eighteen, she was finally rescued and brought back to the Sinclair family—only to be destroyed again. Her "loving" stepmother and her "perfect" little sister ruined her reputation completely, turning her into a public disgrace.

At twenty, acid was poured onto her face while she slept. Her beauty—gone overnight.

At twenty-three, they threw her into this filthy, lightless basement and tortured her in every way imaginable.

They kept her alive on purpose.

Lilian knew exactly why.

It was for her mother's keepsake.

The Jade Key.

Her eyes burned with fury. A shrill, broken laugh tore from her throat.

"Go on," she rasped. "If you've got the guts—kill me."

Chloe chuckled softly, as if she'd just heard something amusing. But her eyes were full of ridicule.

"Why would we do that?" she said. "Actually, I was hoping to invite you to my wedding."

Lilian froze.

"Nathan and I are getting married next month," Chloe continued casually. "Oh—and he asked me to pass along a message."

She leaned in slightly, her smile sweet and cruel.

"He said he never loved you. Not once. He just felt sorry for you. So don't get the wrong idea."

Lilian had always thought her heart was already dead.

But the moment she heard Nathan's name, it felt as though someone had driven a fist straight into her chest.

He was getting married?

To Chloe?

No—to the witch who had destroyed my life.

Memories surged forward like a flood she couldn't stop. Every single one of them carried the same face—the gentle, refined man who had once brought warmth into her world. The man who had sworn he would protect her, no matter what.

So it was all a lie.

What a joke.

Silent tears slid down her scarred face. A hoarse, broken laugh followed.

Chloe watched her carefully, clearly satisfied.

"Mom, let's go," she said lightly. "She's not giving us anything today. We've got plenty of time."

The basement door slammed shut.

Darkness swallowed everything.

Silence followed.

Lilian lay there for a long time before slowly forcing herself upright. With trembling fingers, she reached into her mouth and pulled out a thin thread.

Inch by inch, she drew it out.

At the very end dangled a piece of blue jade—shaped like a spider lily in full bloom.

No one would ever guess.

The Jade Key they'd searched the world for… was blue jade.

Lilian stared at it in her palm as tears streamed down uncontrollably.

"Mom…" she whispered hoarsely. "I can't hold on anymore. I failed you. I couldn't avenge you. Please… don't blame me."

In the corner of the basement lay a lighter and half a bottle of liquor—left behind by the men who had tortured her.

Using the last of her strength, she poured the liquor across the floor and struck the flame.

Fire erupted instantly.

As the flames roared around her, Lilian drove the Jade Key straight into her own chest.

Her mother was gone.

That key was her mother's most precious possession—and Lilian's final stand.

Even if it cost her life, she would never let it fall into their hands.

If she were given another chance…

She would make them pay.

Blood for blood.

But...

The fire raged, devouring everything.

No one saw the blinding blue light that burst from Lilian's chest.

Through the sea of flames, a tall, imposing figure emerged—like a god descending into hell—cradling a frail, scorched body in his arms.

Right before Lilian lost consciousness, she saw a man's face.

It was blurred, indistinct—but from the outline alone, she could tell he was handsome.

He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low and heavy with regret. "I came too late."

Who are you…?

She wanted to ask.

But darkness claimed her first.

The man's deep black eyes reflected the inferno around him. As he stared down at her lifeless face, something bloodthirsty flickered through his gaze.

"Sweetheart," he said softly, deadly calm beneath the flames,

"I won't let you die. Just wait for me."

It hurt.

God, it hurt so badly.

Lilian woke up to pain tearing through her body like a blade, sharp and merciless. For a split second, her mind went blank—then panic surged.

Wait… wasn't I already dead?

Then why am I still here?

She shot upright and instinctively looked down at her hands.

They were small.

Too small.

Child-sized. Dirty, yes—but whole. No missing fingers. No scars.

Her breath hitched. Trembling, she reached up and touched her face.

Smooth. Soft. Unbroken.

No twisted burns. No ruined flesh.

The shock slammed into her all at once, snapping her fully awake. Her eyes flew open as she scanned her surroundings—and her heart stopped.

This place…

She knew it.

This was the room.

The very room where she'd been locked up the year she was kidnapped.

The year she was eight.

Her breath came fast and shallow.

Don't tell me…

Did I really come back?

Back to the day I was kidnapped?

At this point in time, she hadn't been sold yet.

She hadn't been beaten, starved, or stripped of her voice.

Her face was still intact. Her body untouched. The nightmare hadn't begun.

Really? Everything—the suffering, the humiliation, the years of hell—none of it has happened yet.

And which means—

I still have a chance.

Her fingers clenched.

But first… she had to escape.

Yes. She had to get out of here.

She had to rewrite her fate.

Lilian slid off the bed and stretched her stiff limbs, forcing her small body to move. She crept toward the window, careful, cautious, listening for any sound.

No guards.

Only a thick iron chain locked around the door.

They must have assumed a drugged eight-year-old wouldn't wake up anytime soon. Their guard was down.

The room was cramped, with two windows.

The first one, near the door, faced the front yard.

Lilian peeked out—and her heart sank.

Several men were outside, squatting around a table, laughing and playing cards.

That way was impossible.

Her gaze shifted to the second window.

It was open.

But high.

For an eight-year-old, it might as well have been a cliff.

Still… if she could get out, she'd be free.

For good.

Lilian inhaled deeply and stepped back.

One step. Two.

Then she ran.

She sprinted forward and jumped with everything she had—

Her fingers caught the edge of the window frame.

Pain shot through her arms, but she didn't let go.

No time to think.

She clawed her way up, scraping her knees, using hands and feet like her life depended on it—because it did.

Then—

The door creaked open.

"Shit!" a man yelled. "That brat's trying to escape!"

Heavy footsteps thundered behind her.

"When the hell did she wake up?!"

"After her—now!"

Lilian's heart slammed into her throat.

She didn't think anymore.

She jumped.

The ground slammed into her body, knocking the breath from her lungs—but she forced herself upright and ran.

No hesitation.

No looking back.

She ran like death was chasing her.

Because it was.

This time… I won't let tragedy win!

She tore down the mountain trail, branches cutting her skin, rocks bruising her feet. She didn't know where she was going—only that she couldn't let them catch her again.

If she could just get out of this village…

If she could just survive—

Her legs trembled. Her lungs burned.

The footsteps behind her grew closer.

Then she reached the summit.

And froze.

A cliff.

Below it, waves crashed violently against the rocks.

The ocean.

A bitter, broken smile curved her lips.

"Damn brat!" one of the men cursed as they caught up. "I lose money all night gambling, and now I gotta chase you too? I'll skin you alive!"

Three or four men stood behind her now, panting—but relaxed.

Seeing the cliff, they stopped advancing.

They laughed. They jeered.

There was nowhere to run.

Lilian turned to face them, her eyes chillingly calm.

She took one step back.

Then another.

Her legs shook.

In her last life, her adoptive father had tortured her with water—forcing her head into barrels, holding her under until she nearly drowned.

That fear had followed her her entire life.

She had once loved swimming.

After that, she never touched water again.

But now—

She had no choice.

"You little bitch!" one man snarled, lunging toward her. "You think you can glare at me? Get back here!"

His fingers nearly brushed her arm.

Lilian's eyes hardened.

And without hesitation—

She turned and jumped.

"Shit!" someone shouted. "She really jumped! How the hell are we supposed to explain this to that woman?!”

Another man stepped forward, peering down at the raging sea. He snorted.

"She wanted the kid dumped somewhere poor enough she'd never crawl out of. Looks like the ocean did the job for us. She's trapped forever. End of story."

Then he turned to the other men, warning, "No one says a word about this. Got it?"

To them, jumping into the sea meant suicide.

There was no way an eight-year-old could survive.

But below—

Lilian slammed into the water like a stone.

The impact nearly knocked her unconscious. Cold flooded her senses, dragging her under.

The waves swallowed her whole.

All her old nightmares rushed back at once—drowning, suffocating, helplessness.

But she clenched her teeth.

No.

Not this time.

I won't die.

Her body screamed in protest, but she forced her limbs to move, thrashing, paddling, fighting her way through the water.

She didn't know how long she swam.

She had only one thought—

Live.

I have to live.

Finally—

Land.

Her arms felt like lead. Her lips were bloodless. But she swam toward the shore with every ounce of strength she had left.

And at that very moment—

Far away, in Kingston, within the silent halls of Ravenwood Manor—

A man who had been unconscious for months suddenly opened his eyes.

As if something deep in his soul had been stirred, Sebastian whispered hoarsely,

"…Sweetheart."

When Lilian woke up again, she knew immediately—this wasn't the mountainside, and it wasn't the sea.

She lay on a large wooden bed, the scent of aged timber lingering in the air. A wooden desk and chairs sat neatly against the wall, their surfaces worn smooth with time. The furniture carried an old-world elegance, simple but dignified. The white walls had faded with age, patches of paint peeling here and there, yet the room felt warm—safe.

Before she could think further, the door creaked open.

An elderly man stepped inside.

He got grey hair, but his posture was straight, his movements steady. His eyes were bright and clear, brimming with vitality that didn't match his age. When he saw her awake, his stern features softened at once.

"You're awake," he said gently, walking over. "How are you feeling?"

Lilian quickly pushed herself upright. Her movements were polite, alert—far too composed for a child her age.

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "I feel much better now. May I ask… was it you who saved me?"

"I found you by the sea," the old man replied with a warm smile. "Looks like fate had other plans for you."

He sat down beside the bed and reached for her wrist, checking her pulse with practiced ease. After a moment, he nodded calmly.

"You're out of danger. But cold seeped deep into your body. Take care of yourself—if you're careless, it could leave lasting problems."

"I will. Thank you," Lilian said softly.

His concern wasn't fake. She could sense it. And for the first time in a long while, warmth bloomed in her chest.

"What should I call you?" she asked.

The old man seemed to sense her guardedness and smiled reassuringly. "No need to be formal. My name is Leonard Harrington."

Then he looked at her closely. "And you? What's your name? Where's your family?"

A flicker of frost crossed Lilian's eyes—but it vanished just as quickly.

"I don't have any family," she said flatly. "My name is Lilian. No last name."

Leonard froze for a moment.

The child before him was barely seven or eight years old, yet her eyes carried a depth of sorrow that no child should ever bear. Her frame was thin, fragile—clear signs of long-term malnourishment.

"Then… how did you end up drifting in the ocean?" he asked gently.

Lilian lowered her gaze. "I don't remember."

Leonard studied her in silence. He saw the sadness she tried to hide, the wounds that went far deeper than the surface.

He didn't press.

After a pause, he spoke again, his voice calm and kind.

"Would you like to stay here? Become my apprentice?"

Lilian looked up sharply.

"I've been living in seclusion for many years," Leonard continued. "And the fact that I found you at all tells me this is fate. If you're willing, you can stay and learn from me."

Her eyes widened. "Can I?”

"Of course," he said with a chuckle. "If you agree, you'll be my only apprentice. I'll teach you everything I know—especially medicine. How does that sound?"

Medicine.

The word sent a spark straight through her.

Her mother.

The legendary skills. The Sinclair family's rise. And her mother's tragic end.

Now this path was opening again, right in front of her.

Was this destiny giving her a second chance?

In her last life, she had achieved nothing. Her ending had been ruin—total and irreversible.

But now?

Now she had been reborn.

How could she say no?

This time, she would become strong. Strong enough to protect herself. Strong enough to make those who destroyed her mother—and her—pay the price.

Lilian straightened and looked Leonard in the eyes. Her voice was still young, but the resolve in it was unwavering.

"Sir… thank you so much."

She slid off the bed and bowed deeply.

Leonard laughed softly and helped her up, affection filling his eyes. “Good. Good.”

"Since you've agreed, from today onward, you are my apprentice," he said. "From now on, your name is Lilian Harrington. Stay with me. Learn well. You can call me Grandpa."

"I won't let you down. I promise, Grandpa!" Lilian said firmly.

...

Six years later.

Under a towering tree in the courtyard, a girl in athletic wear struck a wooden training post again and again.

Each punch was crisp.

Each kick precise.

Powerful. Controlled.

"You're up early again?" Leonard's voice came from behind her, warm with pride.

Lilian turned, breaking into a bright smile. “Grandpa!”

She looked fourteen or fifteen now, dressed in a white tracksuit. Her long hair was tied neatly into a high ponytail, swaying as she moved.

Her beauty wasn't flashy or overly sweet—it was calm, refined, almost ethereal. The kind that lingered. Her star-bright eyes were especially striking, deep and unforgettable.

A thin sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead, her fair cheeks flushed with health. She radiated youthful vitality.

"Why are you up so early?" she asked, looping her arm through his, her voice still carrying a trace of girlish innocence.

Leonard gently wiped the sweat from her brow. "I saw your backpack. Planning to head down the mountain?"

At his words, the light in Lilian's gaze darkened.

"I've spent years learning and training," she said quietly. "Building from the shadows. The foundation is solid now. It's time to move."

Though she had lived in seclusion, she hadn't wasted a single opportunity.

Using the money she earned treating patients, she had invested—guided by memories from her previous life. Bit by bit, she built capital, quietly and efficiently.

Now, she finally had the means to act.

And it was time to find someone as well…

Leonard looked at the young woman beside him. While girls her age were still carefree and naive, Lilian was already planning her future with frightening clarity.

When she had told him about her past—her bloodline, her suffering—he had known she would one day return to face the Sinclair family.

That was why he took her everywhere. Taught her medicine, martial arts, strategies, and even how to make social connections.

He wanted her safe.

Watching her now—strong, capable, self-possessed—his heart ached with affection and swelled with pride.

"No matter what you choose to do," he said slowly, "I'll support you. And no matter how hard things get, this will always be your home. I'll be right here."

Lilian's eyes instantly reddened.

In these six years, she had mastered everything Leonard knew. Her alchemy had advanced by leaps and bounds. Her internal energy had grown so strong it was impossible to measure.

In her past life, her heart's blood had accidentally activated the Jade Key—triggering her rebirth.

Hidden within it was a secret realm… one that had granted her even greater power.

She was no longer weak.

And it was all because of the man standing beside her.

"Before you go," Leonard added, reluctance clear in his voice, "stop by Ravenshire. Visit the Carter family. Check on Madam Elena."

He paused, then said meaningfully, "Ravenshire has many powerful people. You might find someone there… who can introduce you to Sebastian."

Lilian's fingers tightened slightly.

Ravenshire.

Sebastian.

Her journey back into the world had officially begun.

The moment Leonard spoke, Lilian's pupils shrank.

So he knew.

Everything she had been doing in secret all these years—Leonard had seen it, understood it, and quietly remembered every detail.

Over the past several years, while she pushed herself relentlessly to grow stronger and plan her return to the world, there was one thing she had never once forgotten—

Her mother's final words.

Back then, she had only been six. Too young to understand why her mother had begged her to leave the Sinclair family—the family that had given birth to her, raised her, and once been her entire world.

By the time the nightmare truly began, by the time she tried to run…

It was already far too late.

This time, reborn with a second chance, she had started digging into one name her mother had mentioned again and again—

Sebastian.

And the deeper she looked, the more shocking the truth became.

According to what she uncovered, Sebastian's mother had been the daughter of an earl, while his father's family belonged to one of the most powerful aristocratic houses in Kingston. For personal reasons, Sebastian had inherited his maternal grandfather's noble title—and with it, seized control of Austine Financial Group, dominating the international financial world.

The empire he built with his own hands now stood at the very top of the country.

Sebastian wasn't just a name.

It was power. Absolute power.

A man countless people wanted to know—but could never reach.

Lilian didn't understand how her mother had ever come to know someone like him. She didn't know why her mother wanted Lilian to seek him out with the Jade Key.

But one thing was crystal clear.

A man like that could become her strongest ally.

Whether it was fulfilling her mother's final wish—or paving the road for her own revenge—finding Sebastian was now one of her primary goals after descending the mountain.

"Thank you, Grandpa," Lilian said softly, bowing deeply one last time.

"Silly girl, what are you doing?" Leonard hurried forward, lifting her up with a sigh, his voice thick with reluctance. "I know you're carrying a lot of resentment in your heart. But I still hope you can live happily. If hatred consumes you, you'll lose everything that makes life worth living."

"I understand, Grandpa," Lilian replied, her throat tight.

She turned and began walking down the mountain, toward Ravenshire—never once looking back.

Ravenshire lay beyond layers of forests and mountain ranges.

Instead of taking the main road, Lilian chose a lesser-known path through the Blackwood Mountains. Along the way, she planned to gather rare medicinal herbs and store them in her space for future use.

The Blackwood Mountains were ancient and vast, blanketed by towering trees that blocked out the sky. The land was rich—overflowing with rare herbs that were almost impossible to find elsewhere.

After trekking deep into the mountains for two full days, Lilian's harvest was substantial.

As night fell, she followed a winding mountain trail and spotted a narrow cave hidden along a steep hillside. Deciding to rest there for the night, she stepped inside.

The instant she crossed the threshold, the sharp stench of blood hit her nose.

Her brows snapped together.

The cave was dim and cold. In the shadows, she could barely make out a human figure slumped against the stone wall.

Lilian reached into her pack and pulled out a flashlight.

Light flooded the cave instantly.

Leaning against the rock was a man.

His face was deathly pale, his eyes tightly shut. His clothes were torn in several places, stained dark with blood. He looked battered, exhausted—on the verge of collapse.

And yet—

Even like this, he was devastatingly handsome.

A lock of hair had fallen across his forehead, partially obscuring one eye. His long legs were stretched out carelessly, but there was still an unmistakable air of elegance about him—noble, untouchable.

Then Lilian noticed the blood soaking his abdomen.

Her expression darkened.

She approached silently, crouched beside him, and reached out to unbutton his shirt.

Suddenly—

A sharp burst of energy slashed toward her.

Lilian twisted aside just in time.

Before she could fully recover, the injured man sprang up and lashed out with a kick.

"Hey!" Lilian snapped, meeting his cold, razor-sharp gaze head-on. "Are you insane? I was trying to help you—and this is how you repay me?!”

The man froze mid-motion, chest heaving. His voice was hoarse, edged with killing intent.

"Who sent you?"

Lilian rubbed her sore arm and shot him an annoyed look. "You've got a serious persecution complex. I was saving your life, and you attack me? You're unbelievable."

Sebastian studied her carefully for a long moment.

Then, confirming she truly posed no threat, his strength finally gave out. He staggered back and collapsed against the stone wall, breath ragged.

Only then did Lilian relax.

She walked over slowly and muttered, "I'm treating you. No more sneak attacks."

She undid his shirt—

And sucked in a sharp breath.

The wound was horrifyingly deep, clearly caused by a blade. She could see bone, and blood was still seeping out steadily.

To be this badly injured and still able to launch an attack…

This man was terrifying.

She glanced at his ashen face and said seriously, "This needs to be cleaned immediately. I don't have any anesthetic. It's going to hurt."

Sebastian cracked his eyes open. His gaze—dark, bottomless—locked onto hers.

"Do it," he rasped.

Even half-dead, he still sounded like someone used to giving orders.

Lilian curled her lip. If not for professional ethics, she would've walked away and let him deal with it himself.

She carefully checked to make sure no vital organs were damaged. Then she pulled out a small blade and purified it with alcohol.

Just as she was about to start, a long-fingered hand shot out and clamped tightly around her wrist.

She met his icy gaze and assumed he was bracing himself for the pain.

"Relax," she said calmly. "I know what I'm doing. You'll live."

She pried his hand off without ceremony.

Then, with clean, efficient movements, she removed the necrotic tissue and flushed the wound thoroughly with saline.

From beginning to end, the man never made a sound.

His fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white. His entire body was taut with restraint.

The level of pain tolerance was frightening.

Lilian couldn't help but glance at him again—this time with a flicker of genuine admiration.