A beautiful woman, hungover and head throbbing, woke up to find herself in her paralyzed nephew's bed.
On her black stockings, there was a suspicious, hardened substance.
It was tough to the touch and carried a lingering fishy smell.
Scarlett's mind froze for a moment.
"Auntie," Ethan's voice came through, his delicate and frail appearance making him look all the more innocent, his eyes filled with complex emotions.
Scarlett looked up at her paralyzed nephew and then down at the stain on her stockings, managing a strained smile, "Ethan, did I do anything to you last night?"
Ethan's face turned red, and he looked away, avoiding her gaze, "Nothing at all."
He was sure that in his aunt's eyes, he was still the fragile boy who couldn't move his body.
Even though he had gained some abilities recently, the ingrained perception that he was helpless still dominated his aunt's view of him.
