Mr. Lysander Pursues Me

October, Paris at Night.

Winter arrived earlier than usual this year, with heavy snowfall covering the streets and biting winds making the cold penetrate to the bone. In this weather, returning to a cozy home, gathering with family, and enjoying a warm dinner is the most wonderful thing.

Celestia wore a white blouse, her hair neatly tied, and her small face hidden behind large round glasses. She held a cup of hot milk in her hands, her eyes pensive as she looked out the window, contemplating her fate. The stillness inside mingled with the thick mist outside, intensifying the sadness in Celestia's heart. As an orphan, she never dared to dream of a happy family.

Tonight, Celestia was not going home; instead, she was helping a friend with the night shift at the hospital. The cold and fatigue made her crave a good night's sleep. After a while, it was already eleven o'clock when she finally got off work. Celestia hastily put on a thin sweater and started walking home. The bustling streets of the day had become eerily silent.

Celestia quickened her pace through the empty streets, trying to push away negative thoughts. The biting cold made her shiver, but she still decided to take a shortcut through a dark alley, the fastest way home.

"Well, let's see if I can make it home early for once, I'll be brave," she muttered to herself, trying to walk confidently.

But Celestia had only gone a short distance when she heard the sounds of a fight ahead. In the dim light, she saw a group of people surrounding and attacking someone, armed with knives and guns.

"Don't worry, we've been paid; this time he won't escape," one of them said, laughing cruelly.

Celestia was terrified, covering her mouth, intending to turn back, but if she left, the man might be beaten to death. This thought made her feel cowardly and selfish. Quickly assessing the situation, she realized that the man was being hunted, and these thugs were just hired, likely very afraid of the law.

Finally, Celestia decided to help. She quickly found a recording of police sirens on her phone, a precaution for when she encountered trouble on the road. Taking a deep breath, she played the recording and shouted, "Here, here! There's a fight, the police are coming!"

In an instant, the attackers fled, leaving the injured man lying on the snow-covered ground.

Celestia, hands shaking, quickly ran over to check on the victim. His clothes were torn, blood soaking through his white shirt, with gunshot wounds visible. Her home was not far, but how could she carry him?

Looking around, she spotted a pushcart nearby. She hurried over, pulled the cart back, and with great effort, managed to get the man onto it. She immediately pushed the cart home, he was still breathing but losing a lot of blood, and he needed urgent care.

"Hang on, hang on, stay with me," she urged, her small frame struggling to push the cart carrying the grown man, nearly collapsing.

Celestia's so-called "home" was actually a row of boarding houses; her room was fortunately located at the front, making it more convenient. Everyone around was already asleep. She left the cart outside and quickly helped the man inside, laying him on the bed to administer first aid.

Celestia washed her hands and used scissors to cut his shirt, revealing multiple wounds, the most prominent being a knife slash across his chest. He was lucky the slash wasn't too deep, and the bullet was lodged in his left shoulder, missing his heart but causing severe blood loss.

It was two in the morning by the time Celestia finished stitching the wounds and removing the bullet. Luckily, she had enough supplies at home for a minor surgery, but no anesthetic; she could only place a cloth in his mouth for him to bite. He was incredibly resilient, occasionally frowning but not crying out much.

Celestia cleaned up everything, her mind wandering. Everything had been incredibly dangerous, but fortunately, she had been able to save him. Exhausted, Celestia finally fell asleep on the sofa.

The next morning, Celestia awoke with a start after a terrifying dream. She tried to calm herself, taking a deep breath. Last night, she had dreamed of past events, which were not particularly pleasant.

Celestia had been abandoned by her parents at birth, left at an orphanage on the outskirts of the city with a note beside her: Celestia Rosewood. At that time, the monks at the orphanage were in a difficult situation due to a sudden withdrawal of funding. Despite this, they were determined to raise her until she turned 18.

Those days were filled with harassment from gangsters and creditors, everyone bore numerous scars. This was why Celestia was so determined to become a doctor. Although things had changed now, the emotional scars remained.

Remembering that the patient was still in her home, resting was out of the question. Celestia quickly got up and went to check on the stranger. No fever, no side effects. After confirming everything was fine, she felt a bit relieved. Last night, in the dark and in a rush to help, Celestia hadn't gotten a good look at the man's face. Now was the perfect time to observe him closely.

A celebrity, an actor, or some mysterious figure... Celestia gently brushed his hair aside and discovered that he was very handsome, with long, curly eyelashes. She took out her mirror, feeling that even her own eyelashes couldn't compare.

As she admired his features, he suddenly woke up. Startled, Celestia stammered, "You're awake. I was just checking on you."

"Yes, admiring me?" he replied. Seeing him trying to sit up, she immediately helped. Chris, after being propped against the wall, touched the water bottle across the room, and Celestia immediately understood. After drinking the water, his dry throat felt much better. Celestia said, "The slash isn't deep, I've stitched it up and removed the bullet from your arm. Just avoid straining it, and it should heal quickly."

"Ah, nothing related to the brain, so stay calm." Hearing this, Celestia looked at him, and he returned her gaze with a curious look.

Facing the petite girl before him, Chris felt a bit surprised but didn't show it. He wondered how someone who looked so naive could have the courage to do what she did. Chris pursed his lips and then thanked her. He vaguely remembered someone helping him last night but couldn't recall it clearly.

Celestia stood up and opened the refrigerator, speaking as she went, "You must be hungry, right? I don't have much at home, just a little..."

Mid-sentence, she fell silent, her face reddening in embarrassment. There was nothing in the fridge but various drinks. She quickly closed the fridge and rushed to the bathroom, saying she would go to the market to buy some food.

Watching her clumsy yet pure manner, Chris couldn't help but smile. Before she left, he asked to borrow a phone: "Can I borrow your phone?"

"It's on the nightstand. Wait a moment, I'll be back soon." Celestia said, closing the door behind her. Her warmth and concern left Chris feeling different. Grateful and apologetic, he thought.

Seeing the time was late, Celestia hurried home, knowing he needed nourishment after losing so much blood. But when she arrived, he was gone.

She hurried to the bedside, finding the phone neatly placed with the call history erased, and only a note saying "thank you," signed with the name Dorian Vossler, which was a beautiful signature. How could someone injured leave so quickly?

Pass it. Celestia decided to enjoy her day off at home and resume work the next day. But little did she know, Chris had seen her rushing back from a corner.

He smirked, thinking; Thank you for saving my life, and sorry for not being able to stay longer.