Sharon Vineyard pushed at Hayashi Shuichi, trying to shift their bodies apart, but her hand accidentally grazed his wounds.
Hayashi Shuichi let out a muffled groan, his body tensing instinctively as pain shot through him.
Sharon, feeling the sticky blood on her fingers, recoiled as if scalded, yanking her hand back.
Realizing he'd been so badly injured to protect her, the anger in her heart melted away, replaced by a deep sense of guilt and gratitude.
"Does it hurt?"
Sharon's voice softened, a rare trace of guilt threading through her words.
"It's fine," Hayashi Shuichi said, gasping as he tried to keep his tone steady. But the trembling in his body betrayed his pain.
Though Sharon couldn't see his expression in the dark, she could tell from his voice alone that he was likely grimacing.
"Idiot, did I ask you to protect me?"
Her words were scolding, but the usual sharpness was gone, replaced by a faint, almost imperceptible tenderness.
Suddenly, Sharon reached up, pulling the boy above her into an embrace.
Hayashi Shuichi had been holding himself up, trying not to collapse fully onto her.
But her unexpected tug caught him off guard, and his face was buried in a wave of softness—a full-on "face wash" experience.
Struggling to breathe, Hayashi Shuichi let out a few muffled grunts.
"There's been a huge landslide. Someone's bound to come investigate," Sharon reassured him. "And your friends from the film crew will notice we haven't returned. They'll send help."
"Mmph…" Hayashi Shuichi squirmed, trying to break free from the awkward embrace, but his injuries and exhaustion made his efforts feeble.
"Hey, didn't you just call yourself a man?" Sharon teased, a playful lilt in her voice. "What's with the panic now? Don't tell me only that part of you is…"
Hayashi Shuichi summoned all his strength, finally lifting his head, panting. "Are you trying to smother me?"
"Uh…" Sharon realized she'd hugged him too tightly in her moment of gratitude, her cheeks warming slightly. The darkness hid her embarrassment, but it was there.
"Sorry."
To change the subject, Sharon's mind sparked with an idea. "Kid, I've got a way to treat your wounds."
Before Hayashi Shuichi could respond, the sound of tearing fabric echoed in the dark. "What are you—?"
"…Close your eyes!" Sharon's voice carried a rare hint of shyness, though she continued her task.
In the pitch-black car, even if Hayashi Shuichi's eyes were wide open, he wouldn't see a thing.
Soon, Sharon tore her long-sleeved shirt from under her coat, ripping it clean off.
Her movements were swift and decisive, as if she'd slipped back into her role as the Black Organization's formidable witch.
"Kid, brace yourself!"
With a warning, Sharon, still lying beneath him, began carefully wrapping his wounds with the torn fabric, her fingers moving gently across his back in the darkness.
A quarter of an hour later, Sharon checked her work, satisfied that nearly all of Hayashi Shuichi's wounds were bandaged. She let out a relieved sigh.
"…Thanks," Hayashi Shuichi said, his voice heavy with mixed emotions.
"You risked your life to save me. What's a torn shirt compared to that?" Sharon said with a light chuckle, her tone blending teasing with warmth. "If you're tired, just lean on me. No need to keep holding yourself up."
Hayashi Shuichi was indeed at his limit. Since she'd offered, he let himself slump down again.
This "face wash" was something else—smooth, soft skin with a faint, pleasant fragrance…
Wait.
Hayashi Shuichi froze, realizing something was off. Earlier, there'd at least been clothes between them.
But now, Sharon's shirt was in shreds, used to bandage his wounds.
Though she still wore her open trench coat, his collapse had brought him right against the lace edges of her bra.
He tried to lift his head, but Sharon's hand suddenly pressed him back down.
"Stop moving. At a time like this, who cares about that?"
Her heart ached as she stared into the pitch-black surroundings, a pang of desolation hitting her.
In a quiet, uncertain voice, she asked, "Kid, if we're really buried under this landslide, would you regret it?"
"Regret what? Saving you?" Hayashi Shuichi shook his head, still nestled in her warmth. "Even if I hadn't saved you, I wouldn't be any better off now."
"In a place like this, having someone to talk to is better than being alone."
"True," Sharon said, her voice tinged with a faint sigh. "Who'd have thought we'd end up dying together?"
"We're not dying that easily," Hayashi Shuichi said encouragingly. "Didn't you just say help's coming? We'll be fine."
The car fell silent again. The two barely knew each other. Hayashi Shuichi's only knowledge of this "witch" came from his past life, and this was only their second meeting in this one.
For Sharon, too, their history was limited to him clearing her name at Mihua City Hall. Their positions were fundamentally at odds.
She'd even suspected he'd noticed something about her, given the wariness in his eyes.
As they waited for rescue in silence, another problem became apparent.
The Ferrari's interior wasn't spacious, and with the landslide sealing them in, the air was effectively trapped.
The oxygen wouldn't last long.
"A person breathes about 30 times a minute, taking in roughly 0.4 liters of air per breath," Hayashi Shuichi said, frowning as he calculated. "That's about 720 liters of air per hour for one person."
"We're two people, so that's 1,440 liters—about 1.4 cubic meters—per hour."
"The car's interior is maybe three to four cubic meters. Accounting for the deformation, let's say three cubic meters."
"So," Sharon continued, her tone heavy, "if we don't get rescued in two to three hours, we'll run out of air…"
(Chapter End)
-------------------------
Thank you for following my story. If you want to read it first, please visit my Patreon — there are about 30-40 chapters waiting there. Your support really motivates me to continue to release more stories!
👉[patreon.com/TripleCrown07]