Elena Ward glared at him, her ears and cheeks burning without warning.
Julian Crowe didn't look the least bit embarrassed. He remained as relaxed and provoking as ever, gaze lazy as he asked, "What? Aren't you going to stitch the leg?"
"…"
Elena clenched her teeth.
She wore the standard base-issued tactical jacket and fitted black combat pants. The wound was high on her outer thigh—there was no way to roll the fabric up from below. To reach it, the only option was pulling the pants down from the waist.
Stripping like that…
Alone in a room.
With him.
They had been enemies for years—bloody, irreconcilable enemies.
Seeing her hesitate, Julian calmly picked up the scissors from the tray.
"Hold still."
Before she could react, he pressed her ankle down and cleanly sliced the fabric open, cutting upward with one decisive motion. The ruined cloth fell away, exposing pale skin and torn flesh still oozing blood.
Only then did he set the scissors aside and reach for a syringe of anesthetic.
He didn't look lecherous.
Not even a little.
Yet the warmth of his fingers brushing her skin made her lips tingle, and something about the air felt… wrong.
To steady herself, Elena stretched her right hand sideways and wrapped her fingers around the familiar hilt of the silver moon blade.
Julian noticed immediately.
Without pausing, he slid the needle into her skin and curved his lips slightly.
"Miss Ward," he said lightly, "I'm treating your wound while you hold a knife behind my back. Do you think that's polite?"
He sighed theatrically.
"Such cruelty toward your savior. How tragic."
"…"
Elena loosened her grip and set the blade aside.
"Sorry," she said stiffly. "I'm just used to holding a weapon. I wasn't planning to attack you."
Outside in the corridor, Drake suddenly grabbed Maya's arm.
"The boss is in danger!"
Maya slapped the back of his head without looking.
"You idiot. This is called flirting."
"…Oh."
Rain hammered the windows outside. Inside, the room was quiet.
Julian bent over her thigh, movements calm and precise, as if this were routine. His hands were steady, his touch careful.
For a brief moment, Elena almost forgot who he was.
"…Were you a doctor before the apocalypse?" she asked quietly.
Julian finished cleaning the wound and began stitching.
"The apocalypse started seven years ago," he replied. "I'm not that old."
"Then you were…?"
He lifted the scissors slightly.
"A medical student."
Elena nodded.
That made sense.
Still, even with that explanation, he didn't feel like a healer. More like a killer who happened to know anatomy very well.
He finished her right leg and moved to the left pant leg. The anesthetic should have held—but two wounds remained, and one still had half of a zombie's broken tooth embedded deep in the flesh.
Julian clicked his tongue in irritation and dropped the tools onto the tray.
"Maya," he called. "Any anesthetic left?"
Maya shook her head.
"This is an abandoned base hospital. Supplies were looted long ago. We only found half a bottle."
Julian's brows drew together.
He didn't speak.
Elena did.
"Just do it," she said calmly. "I can handle it."
She had endured worse.
Once, she had broken a bone in the field. Adrian Cross had set it immediately—no anesthetic, no proper tools, no warning. She had blacked out from the pain.
Maya hesitated, then added softly,
"We need to move fast. This area isn't safe—we can't stay."
Julian didn't look up.
"Out."
"…Yes."
When Julian sat down again, every trace of humor was gone.
Elena's face was pale, but hers was from pain. Without anesthetic, every touch sent sharp agony through her body until sensation dulled into numbness.
By the time it was over, her brows were tightly knit, eyes closed.
Sweat dampened her hair, strands sticking to her cheeks. She had bitten her lip hard enough to draw blood—a single red bead standing out against her pale skin.
She looked like a rose battered by storm winds.
Julian's gaze darkened.
He bent down without thinking, brushed the blood from her lip with his thumb, then—almost absently—smeared it across her cheek in a vivid streak.
Elena's lashes trembled as she opened her eyes, tears blurring her vision. It took a moment for the pain to recede.
Their faces were close.
Too close.
His breath was warm.
"So," Julian murmured, voice low, "I saved you. How will you repay me?"
"…"
Her dream flashed through her mind.
A single thought struck her like lightning.
If side characters wanted to survive, they had to break the script.
If Adrian Cross and Mia Green were the destined pair…
If her fate was to die nameless and disgraced in a dungeon…
If they were all nothing but pieces in a ridiculous story…
Then why not smash it apart?
Before she could overthink it, Elena leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.
It was brief.
Soft.
Barely a touch.
But the effect was immediate.
Julian froze.
His Adam's apple moved as a sharp jolt shot through his chest.
He hadn't expected it.
Elena pulled back just as quickly. When she saw the smile vanish from his face, panic flared.
Was that not what he meant?
Or—was he after something else?
Her cheeks burned as she instinctively touched the silver bracelet on her wrist.
"Then…" she asked softly, "how would you like me to repay you?"
Julian stared at her, lips still tingling, as if he'd forgotten how to speak.
She lowered her lashes.
"This bracelet was from my grandmother. My sister has the other one. I'm still searching for her, so I can't give it away…"
"In District Thirteen, everything's shared. We don't really own anything." She hesitated. "Besides the bracelet, all I have is the silver moon blade…"
"But that's what keeps me alive. I can't give that either."
Julian's gaze dropped to her lips.
Then—
He burst out laughing.
Not a soft chuckle. Real laughter, unrestrained, as if she had struck something deep and ridiculous inside him.
Elena felt even more humiliated.
"…Stop laughing."
"All right, all right," he said, though his smile refused to fade. "Since the famous former Deputy Captain of District Thirteen is so pitifully broke…"
"Let's put the debt on hold."
"…"
She felt thoroughly insulted.
Before she could recover what little dignity she had left, the door slammed open and Drake stumbled in.
"Boss! Bad news—there's a ghost in this hospital—"
Julian's smile vanished instantly.
His expression darkened.
"What ghost?"