Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Dustin couldn't help but chuckle, a wry smile curling the corners of his mouth. "Alright, help me over there." "Sure."

Emma quickly stood up, wrapping an arm around his waist.

Her father had passed away early, and from the age of fifteen, she had carried her mother to school on her back. Sometimes, she'd even lug a bundle of firewood home from the roadside. So, if it really came down to it, carrying Dustin wouldn't be an issue. Their proximity meant that most of Dustin's weight leaned on her, and he could clearly feel the strength in her frame she was like a graceful little panther.

They were in the countryside, and not just any countryside, but a very impoverished one. Most of the young people had either moved to the town or the city.

Only those who had no other choice stayed behind to watch over the village.

Emma's family had an outhouse built of wood, clean but unfamiliar to Dustin. And with someone right beside him, he felt an odd sense of shyness creeping in. "Ahem."

He coughed, then jerked his chin upwards. "Turn around, would you?"

"Okay."

Emma turned, but her hands didn't forget their task of supporting him.

"And plug your ears for me."

Obediently, Emma blocked her ears, though with one hand still steadying him, she could only cover one side.

Standing behind her, Dustin smirked and unbuckled his belt.

The clothes he wore belonged to Emma's father. Though he had passed away years ago, she had kept his garments, washing them and folding them neatly. Her father had not owned a belt, so the one around Dustin's waist was a makeshift one Emma had fashioned from fabric.

Just as Dustin was undoing his belt, he heard her ask, "Do you want me to whistle?"

His hand froze, and he let out an exasperated laugh.

"Do you even know what you're saying?"

"Your body is still healing from some serious injuries. Without proper medical facilities here, I'm not sure if your kidneys were affected." "They're fine, my kidneys are strong."

"And how do you know that?"

Dustin was at a loss for words, grinding his teeth before retorting, "If you don't believe me, feel free to check."

Emma fell silent, and Dustin thought perhaps she was embarrassed. He huffed and proceeded to relieve himself in the outhouse. When they emerged, Emma led him to wash his hands.

Dustin's skin was very pale, creating a stark contrast under the faucet next to Emma's.

She was in her early twenties, her

skin bronzed from the sun, while et

Dustin's hands, long and graceful under the running water, looked like fine porcelain.

If such a skin tone were on a woman, she'd be praised for her alabaster complexion.

Because of her darker skin, she had been mocked more than once.

Sighing, she realized time was getting on, and she needed to head up the mountain to gather herbs.

"If you get bored, I can set up a deck chair outside the main house for you. You can look at the mountains in the distance; it's good for your eyes."

Dustin felt incredibly weak, barely able to stand without support.

Leaning against the door, he watched as Emma hoisted the hefty deck chair with ease, his mouth twitching in surprise.

Emma was unlike any woman he had ever encountered.

As he pondered this, a sharp pain shot through his head, a parade of women's faces flashing across his mind.

But he couldn't remember their names, let alone his own.

"Cough, cough."

He coughed violently, his chest searing with pain.

Emma helped him sit, "I haven't asked you yet-how did you get hurt? If you can't remember, don't worry about it. You shouldn't think too hard these days; your injuries are serious. Just relax and focus on resting."

"To find my sister."

s won

Emma paused, images of young girls sold into remote areas as child brides flashing through her mind.

When Dustin spoke, even he seemed surprised by his certainty.

"Looking for my sister."

"Was she sold here?"

Dustin shook his head, his

handsome face clouded with confusion. Every time he tried to

recall why he ended up here, a wave

of anger surged in his heart,This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org: ©.

impossible to suppress.