"You have to stop doing that."
"Stop doing what?"
"Saying things that make me want to kiss you when I can't."
Becoming the prince's personal bodyguard should be a dream come true, shouldn't it? Good pay, palace life, but the real gem that ever...
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"L-Larissa?" The blonde male stammers, his eyes wide with disbelief as they meet mine.
He should not be here.
Overwhelmed by the tumultuous sea of my thoughts and emotions, a chilling sensation creeps up my feet, snaking its way through my body. Soon enough, I am left vulnerable to the biting cold seeping into my skin.
Without warning, a sudden jolt of excruciating pain surges through my body, stealing my breath away. My senses snap back to reality almost immediately, and I find myself gasping for air, my heart pounding in my chest. Confusion and shock mingle within me as I try to make sense of what had just happened.
Feeling dazed, I look around only to witness the chaos that is erupting in the hut, resembling a surreal scene from a movie. In the midst of it all, Casimir's urgent figure races toward me, while the wreckage of a shattered chair lies mere feet away, its legs still quivering from the impact. Chad, however, has already bolted past me, engaging in a fierce takedown with Luke, sending them both crashing to the floor. My mind struggles to grasp the reality of the situation as I piece together the fragments of what had happened – Luke had just thrown a chair, and it had struck me before crashing to the floor.
"Rissa!"
I feel myself being shaken gently by the shoulders, but I could not focus on anything besides the sharp ache that Is spreading across my back. Instinctively, my hand reaches for the source of pain, feeling the warmth of blood trickling down from a small cut on my temple. The pain was throbbing, radiating out from the impact site and making my head feel heavy and clouded.
"Dang it, Rissa! Stay with me! You will be okay, I promise."
A voice breaks through the haze, piercing my consciousness like a distant echo. I resist the temptation to close my eyes, while my vision blurs and fragments, the world swirling around me in disarray. As the fog lifts slightly, I immediately recognise the concerned face of the man hovering over me, his eyes wide with worry.
"Casimir," I whisper, mustering every ounce of energy I have left.
My voice is barely audible, a mere echo of its usual strength. The pain that courses through my body threatens to overpower me, but I force myself to focus on Casimir's face, seeking solace in his presence.
I am fine. I will be okay.
He leans in closer, concern etched in his features.
"I'm here, Rissa," he replies, his voice gentle yet resolute. "Don't worry, you'll be okay."
I try to offer a reassuring smile, but it feels like a herculean effort. Our surroundings seem to blur, the sounds and movements becoming distant and surreal. Casimir's presence, however, remains vivid, anchoring me to the present moment.
"Focus on your breath," he says, reaching out to grab my hand, as he gently clasps it. "In and out, in and out."
His touch is like a lifeline, sending waves of comfort through my body. I draw strength from his unwavering support, and with each breath, the sharp edges of pain from the impact of the chair start to dull.
