A frigid, damp palm covered her mouth to prevent her from shrieking. Her deep reddish-brown eyes peered into the pair of intensely dark eyes that were nearly obscured by the sodden strands of the man's hair. A noticeable gash on his lower jaw accentuated their close proximity, as Laurel felt his scorching, rapid breath against her face.
"Do not utter a word, or I shall toss you out of this window," he stated, his crimson gaze piercing into hers, seemingly commanding her compliance. Laurel's eyes blinked, not out of fear, but out of confusion. She pushed his moist hand away from her mouth and responded in a single breath, "You are in my room. Shouldn't it be you who may get thrown out?"
The man stared at the young girl, impressed by her lack of fear as she confronted him, his expression momentarily contorted in discomfort as he let out a deep, throaty groan, falling to his knees.
Laurel's eyes widened in shock as she crouched down to assist him, and that was when she also noticed the crimson blood staining his back, nearly washed away by the rain. "Are you alright, sir?" she inquired kindly, attempting to help him up. But his substantial weight burdened her, weighing her down as well. She gazed at the man, who tightly shut his eyes as if in pain, his hands clutching his chest.
Laurel managed to maneuver the man onto the bed, gently urging him to lie down. "Wait here, Mr. Let me fetch my mother to assist you," Laurel stated, preparing to leave when the man on the bed managed to grasp onto her dress, hindering her departure.
"Do not summon your mother," his deep voice strained as he spoke.
"No, Mr. If I do not bring my mother, you might die. She is skilled in treating wounds," Laurel replied sincerely, her love and admiration for her mother not concealed. However, the man persisted, biting his lip hard, causing his cheeks to pale.
"Little girl, if you do not want me to perish, refrain from calling your mother, no matter how proficient she may be," he insisted, exerting himself to sit up on the bed.
"What would you like me to do then?" Laurel asked, feeling sympathy for the man, given his numerous and bloody wounds.
The man gazed at her and replied, "A bowl of water and a clean cloth."
Laurel contemplated for a moment, then nodded. "You wait here, and I will secretly fetch a bowl from the kitchen," she said, not waiting for the man's response before leaving the room.
As the man sat on the bed, he grunted, his eyes surveying the room, which seemed to be simultaneously modest and opulent. After a while, Laurel returned with a bowl of water, retrieving her handkerchief from the cupboard and handing it to the man. He accepted the bowl and handkerchief, but instead of what was expected, he dipped the handkerchief into the water, gently wiping his bloody face and dabbing at the scar on his cheek. He then handed the bowl back to Laurel, saying, "Thank you," although his voice didn't convey sincerity. Laurel brushed it off and earnestly asked, "What happened to you? Were you attacked by nocturnal creatures? I heard they can be extremely dangerous."
The man merely furrowed his brow before querying, "What are your thoughts on nocturnal creatures? Do you consider them to be malevolent?"
Laurel pondered for a moment before taking a seat next to the man, her deep reddish-brown eyes locked onto his profile. "I am uncertain. We often pass judgment based on our own perspectives. My mother taught me not to judge a book by its cover. I believe not all humans are virtuous, just as not all nocturnal creatures are wicked. Don't you think so, Mr.?" Laurel said, gazing at the man, who she couldn't deny possessed an exceptional allure.
"I must agree with this young lady. Perhaps you should retire to bed, as it is already quite late," the man suggested, preparing to leave. However, he remembered something—the girl was destined to divulge his presence. Frowning, he sat back down, his intense gaze fixed on her deep reddish-brown eyes. "There was no one in your room. You were alone the entire night, and you never met me," he murmured, his voice sounding as if he were casting an enchantment. Unbeknownst to Laurel, she suddenly felt dizzy and passed out on her bed. The man rose from his chair, neatly tucking her in before snapping his fingers, causing the bowl and handkerchief to turn to dust.
Quietly opening the door, he crept out, walking through the long corridor and down the stairs. After traversing many steps, he reached the final floor, disbelieving that the Duke sent his youngest child to reside on the insolent floor, where she had a room all to herself and was exposed to danger. "Humans are destined to be foolish," he muttered as he proceeded through the passage that led out of the house, leaving the Duke's manor and walking a considerable distance, where another figure stood like a ghost.
"Did you partake in the Duke's manor, master?" the man lurking in the shadows asked. He was tall, nearly matching his master in height, and his deep red eyes peered through the darkness, gazing respectfully at his master.
"Indeed, but it was regrettable that I was unable to enjoy it. The drink proved to be too talkative, and I couldn't endure it," the man, having just exited the Duke's manor, replied as he ventured into the forest, followed closely behind by his servant. As they disappeared into the shadows of the forest, under A watchful eyes, their figures were consumed by darkness.