She was terrified, her legs so weak they felt like jelly, her thoughts a tangled mess of panic...
And yet, Ume didn't know where the strength or the courage came from. She somehow managed to half-drag, half-carry Izumi Kiyokazu—who was significantly taller than her—into the shack.
Looking down at him, covered in blood and grime, her tears fell uncontrollably. Large droplets landed on his sleeve, mixing with the blood and blossoming into dark stains.
She didn't care about the filth. She laid him directly onto her own bedding, letting the blood soak into the fabric. It was a stark contrast to the first time she had saved him, when she had left him on a pile of dirty rags in the corner.
With a heavy thud, Ume slammed the wooden door shut. She slid the flimsy bolt into place and, without a second's pause, began shoving a wooden cabinet against the door. Once the barricade was set, she leaned against the wood, gasping for air.
Whether from the physical exertion or the sheer terror, her heart hammered so hard it felt like it would burst from her chest.
Outside, the street was momentarily silent. There was no sign of those bastards yet.
But Uhe hadn't forgotten Qinghe's warning. She knew those men were like hyenas—they wouldn't just give up. They would be back soon, and she had to use every second to get Qinghe out of there.
I just need to wait for Big Brother to come back. Once he's here, Qinghe and I will be safe.
At that thought, Ume wiped her tears away. Her blue eyes suddenly shone with a grit and determination far beyond her years. She couldn't die here—at least, not until she had saved Izumi Kiyokazu.
Taking a deep breath, Ume exerted herself, tearing a strip of fabric from her relatively clean inner garment. She soaked it in cold water, wrung it out, and knelt beside him. She began to feverishly wipe away the blood and grime covering his body.
Her movements weren't particularly gentle; she simply didn't have the time to be delicate.
The touch of the cold water helped lower the temperature of Qinghe's body, which felt as though it had been scorched from the inside out.
"Wake up... please. You have to hold on. Don't you dare die," she whispered, her voice a mix of a prayer to the gods and a command to the man. "I won't let you."
As she peeled away his clothing, her breath hitched. She saw the deep gashes from the daggers and the massive, dark bruises from the wooden clubs.
Ume knew he needed medicine. He needed proper care. But she had no medicine, nor did she know the first thing about treating wounds. She could only use this clumsy method to try and stop the blood that was still seeping out.
Throughout the process, her nerves remained wire-tight. She kept glancing at the window toward the deathly silent street, straining to hear any abnormal sound. Even a sudden gust of wind rattling the door nearly sent her into a breakdown.
By the time she had finished roughly bandaging him, despair began to creep in. His skin was still burning with a terrifying fever, his face was deathly pale, and blood was already beginning to soak through her makeshift bandages.
Her efforts weren't enough. At this rate, he was still going to die.
She needed medicine. She needed food. She needed to get him somewhere safe.
But there was nothing here except the looming threat of those thugs.
Ume looked at her tattered clothes and took a deep breath. Steeling her resolve, she hauled Qinghe onto her back and began to stagger toward the exit. Remaining here meant certain death; going outside was their only gamble for survival.
Just as she reached the door, it was hit with a violent, deafening pound.
Gyutaro was losing his mind.
From the mouths of the men who had tried to ambush him at the lumberyard, he had learned about the plot against his sister. He had heard their filthy, wretched intentions.
How could he let that happen? He wouldn't allow it! Never!
After slaughtering his attackers, Gyutaro had sprinted toward home without a single moment's rest. He didn't even know how he was still moving. He was gravely injured; every stride tore his wounds further, sending blood spraying into the air. But he felt no pain—only the agonizing thought of Ume suffering.
No! No! You've given me nothing in this life! Are you going to take everything away from me now?! I won't allow it! Give my sister back!
As he rounded the corner into the alley, he saw the strange, fearful looks from the neighbors. Those looks sent a fresh wave of panic through his soul.
The scene in front of their shack only confirmed his worst fears. Blood was splattered everywhere. There were severed limbs on the ground and gore smeared across the door. To Gyutaro, it looked like the aftermath of Ume's demise.
His heart felt like it was on fire. He reached the door and pounded on it with frantic desperation. If the worst had happened, he would kill every single person in this place. No one would be spared!
But the moment the door creaked open, he didn't see a room full of thugs. He saw a strange man lying on the floor and Ume, her face streaked with tears of joy.
He ignored everything else, frantically checking Ume for injuries. When he saw her torn clothing, his face went even paler, and he glared at the unconscious Izumi Kiyokazu with a flash of murderous hatred.
Ume immediately sensed her brother's misunderstanding. She shouted the explanation as fast as she could:
"Brother! He saved me from those bastards! The blood and the mess outside—that was him fighting them off! He needs medicine and food, we have to hurry..."
It was only then that Ume noticed the two horrific gashes on Gyutaro's back, wounds so deep they nearly split his torso. He stood there, swaying, his face as white as a sheet. Though he was on the verge of losing consciousness, he managed to force a faint, ghostly smile.
"As long as you're okay..." he wheezed. "The money is in my pocket. Buy whatever you need. But be careful... watch out for those bastards..."
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