"I'm so sorry for your loss," Uncle Peter said, his voice heavy with sympathy.

I couldn't speak, only a choked sob escaping my lips. The weight of my grief felt suffocating, the reality of being alone in the world a crushing blow.

"I'll take care of my friend, Mr. Olive," Rose stated firmly, her voice a comforting presence in the room.

I heard the sound of Uncle Peter footsteps fading as Rose stepped closer.

"I know losing your parents is hard, but you need to keep going," she said, her eyes filled with concern.

I let out a heavy sigh and looked up into her compassionate gaze.

"Thank you for not leaving me," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.

"I'm your friend. You know I'm just a call away if you need someone to talk to," Rose said, her voice filled with warmth.

Rose didn't stay long, leaving me alone in the vast garden. A sudden movement caught my eye, and I was startled to see a stranger standing before me. Blood stained his head, arms and shoulders, and his face was pale with pain.

I rushed to his side, my heart pounding with a mix of fear and concern. He swayed, then collapsed, unconscious. With no other choice, I called for the servants to take him to the guest room.

As the stranger was settled in the guest room, I couldn't resist taking a closer look. To my astonishment, I watched in disbelief as his wounds began to close and heal at an alarming rate, as if by magic. I stumbled back, speechless with shock.

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. I slowly backed away from the stranger, a wave of fear washing over me. What I had just seen was impossible, too strange to be real. I fled the guest room, my mind racing.

Back in my own room, I tried to rationalize what I had witnessed, telling myself it was just a figment of my imagination, a trick my mind was playing on me in the wake of my parents accident.

Terror and confusion propelled me to grab my phone from my bag and frantically dial Rose's number.

"Hey Lorna, what's up? Need anything?" her voice answered, a familiar comfort in the midst of my panic.

"Please, I need you here right now, Rose," I begged, my voice barely a whisper.

"Okay, okay, just calm down," she soothed, her voice a calming presence.

"Please?" I pleaded, my voice trembling.

"I'm on my way," she assured me.

"Thank you," I whispered, relief washing over me.

I hung up and climbed into bed, my mind racing. The events replayed in my mind, each detail a fresh source of anxiety. How did that stranger even get into our garden? It didn't make sense! What if I had let a criminal into our home?

A knock at my door startled me. "W-who's there?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"Ms. Olive, the guest in the guest room is awake," a servant's voice replied.

I swallowed hard, realizing there was no escaping the situation. I had to face the stranger I had so carelessly invited into my home. A wave of guilt washed over me. What if he was dangerous? What had I done?

I scrambled out of bed and rushed to the door, flinging it open.

"Bring him some food," I instructed the servant, my voice trembling.

"No need," a deep, resonant voice startled me, and I found myself staring into the stranger's eyes.

"O-okay? You're alright?" I stammered, my voice barely audible.

"Thank you, but I'm fine," he replied, his tone calm and collected.

My heart pounded in my chest, a mix of fear and fascination swirling within me. There was something undeniably intriguing about this man.

He turned to leave, but I instinctively reached out to stop him. At that moment, a strange sensation pulsed through me, a surge of energy that connected to him.

"Did you feel that too?" I asked, my voice laced with disbelief.

"No," he replied, his gaze unwavering.

"Your wounds... can you explain... why?" I couldn't finish the sentence. My mind was a whirlwind of questions, fueled by an insatiable curiosity.

"It was just your imagination," the stranger replied, brushing off my question. I was frowned, unconvinced by his dismissal.

"But I wasn't the only one who saw it. The servants saw it too," I insisted, my voice rising slightly.

"I need to leave," he stated, turning to go. I instinctively grabbed his arm, and once again, that strange energy surged between us.

"W-what was that?!" I exclaimed, my voice trembling.

"I have to go. Thank you for your kindness," he said, his voice a mixture of urgency and regret.

I watched him leave, my mind a whirlwind of unanswered questions. I had seen it with my own eyes, and it wasn't just my imagination.

I couldn't believe what I heard from the stranger. "Ms. Olive, Ms. Rose is here," the maid announced.

I turned to see my friend approaching. "Who was that?" Rose asked, her voice laced with curiosity.

"I don't know him, but he was hurt earlier, so I helped him," I explained.

"Injured? Are you sure? I didn't see any wounds," Rose said, clearly confused.

"That's what I'm wondering too," I admitted. "He was very mysterious. I don't know how he even got into the garden."

"Maybe you should go back to the city. It doesn't seem safe here in the Red Mountains," Rose suggested.

"But I can't leave this place," I insisted. "This is where I was born and raised, where my parents were. I can't abandon it."

"I'm just worried, Lorna." Rose said gently. "You know your parents died here. It's a painful place for you."

I knew Rose was right. But I couldn't bear to leave, not with all the memories I held close. Still, the stranger's presence lingered in my mind, his mysterious aura unsettling.

"I know you're worried about me, Rose, but I can't leave this place. It's the only thing I have left that reminds me of my parents."