The smell of medicine and herbs instantly reached Michael's nostrils as he entered the recovery room.
His eyes were drawn out to Conor. Despite his pale expression, the man didn't look at death's door anymore. The doctors had done a great job.
"Sir Michael!"
Conor's eyes instantly sharpened when he saw the familiar silhouette. Without hesitating, he got up from the bed, opening his wounds in the process.
Yet rather than showing any concern for his condition, he dropped on one knee, his head bowing deeply.
"For saving my life and, more importantly, the life of Miss Jasmine, you have my utmost gratitude. If you ever find yourself in trouble or in need of assistance, don't hesitate to ask. I am willing to offer my life!"
'Who could have thought the man was so virtuous?' Michael thought nearing.
Lending his shoulder, he made sure that Conor was back in the bed and proceeded to call a doctor to fix his open wounds.
