A/N : I am putting this into notice here again. This is a Dark book with Hoseok's character being very dark. So please read the triggers before proceeding with the book.

I will not be putting tw in chapters as I have already said it in the Introduction. Negative immature comments are unwelcome after you have read the triggers and know what to expect. You know this is not a "light" hero so don't exclaim "Fck him!" "WTF?" "Seriously?" or comments along those lines.

That being said, please enjoy.

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Aaya abruptly let go of the stick and took several steps back.

The leaves immediately covered up the person as it was no longer being kept held down. With her heart racing crazily at the vicious look from the person, Aaya was shaken to her core. One simple connection between them was capable of achieving this.

And the emotions glimpsed in him?

That wasn't hatred. There wasn't even a bit of hatred or evil in his gaze.

No, it was just pure intent to kill. Indifferently.

Which was worse.

Other than that, another emotion had been blazing from every inch of his expression. Determination.

Aaya barely got a hold of herself when the walking stick held by the person was accurately launched at her with the lethal attack resembling a spear.Surprised, Aaya dodged it as quick as she could, but the stick still painfully slammed against her arm and then clattered heavily on the ground.

The power behind that throw was enormous, Aaya habitually suppressed her cry of pain and fell down on the ground, her other arm going to cover the throbbing flesh. She still bit her lip hard and felt the place where the stick had struck, trying to determine if her bone was broken or not.

Even through the sudden pain, she was relieved to note that the wound had only injured her skin and flesh, not her bone.

While dealing with her own state, Aaya still did not miss the sudden indrawn breath and audible grunt of pain from the man after launching the attack.

That had cost him. The offensive he had thrown her had hurt him too. Or rather, he was in an extremely poor state, that any effort other than breathing would cause him pain.

Mesmerised as she had been with his dark eyes, Aaya had still taken in the rest of his body which had been revealed for those few seconds. She had been assisting the village physician enough times over the years in treating battle wounded soldiers, that she could swiftly take in the condition of someone in one glance.

What that glance had revealed, was grave indeed.

The man was wearing the colours protective vambraces indicative of their Kingdom. He was a soldier of her land. But his clothes were hardly whole.

Every surface of his body had torn uniform, crusted blood hardening the material. There were slashes and cuts littering his chest and torso. Two particularly long slashes and one stab wound had seemed to be serious. Hardened blood coated his forehead and side of his face while his black hair stuck on his neck with crusty crimson colour.

The wounds were at least few days old.

And significantly alarming.

How was the man conscious? More than that, how did that man have the strength to not only pull against a human's weight in a tug with a wooden stick but also launch it as an attack with this amount of power?

Standing up, Aaya was still breathing a little faster from the surprise, but a lot of small details accumulated in her mind. Some she had seen, some she could interpret.

The surrounding serenity of the nature remained uninterrupted.

Eyes narrowing a little, after weighing her options, Aaya knew what it was that She wanted to do.

Taking several steps backward, she called out to the man, making sure to keep her voice light and cajoling.

"I hope you understand that I mean you no harm Sir."

Following her voice breaking the peaceful silence of the clearing, the natural sounds of the birds and stream resumed in the cheerful daylight as no response was reciprocated.

Aaya waited for an appropriate time before she cautiously took a step forward, thinking of the possibility that maybe the last effort of his defence had finally caused the man to lose his consciousness, only to stop.

In a deep slightly husky voice, the man replied, "You are a woman."

Blinking a couple of times, Aaya's attention was fractured in two different direction. The husky voice of the stranger causing her chest to resonate with an unexpected nervous tension while her other half tried to interpret his statement.

His statemen, not a question.

Glancing down at herself reflexively, she answered, a little unsure, " . . .uh, Yes?"

Silence.

Why are you questioning your own answer about your own gender????"

Rapidly shaking her head to clear it off of the effect his voice had on her, she cleared her throat and said with a more confident tone, "Yes. Did sir mistake me for a male?"

While she joked, she ventured a bit closer.

His deep voice came again, "Apparition is closer to the description."

Aaya stopped again, this time a little insulted. Then she looked at herself again.

There she had suddenly appeared in secluded area of nature in front of a gravely wounded man, wearing billowing white clothes with her skirt and sleeves being tugged by the wind, draped from her head in a white transparent veil falling till her knees all around her with a Satgat (Straw hat) on her head.

For any onlooker, her features inside the veil were hidden. All they could see was a figure in swaying white fabric swathed to the extent that the feminine figure was not discernible.

Out of nowhere, the urge to face palm herself came strongly on her. Grudgingly, she had to admit that he was right. She looked like a wandering ghost.

Aaya sighed a little, she was going to completely ignore it.

A small rock suddenly smashed with power right in front of her approaching feet. Glancing upward, she saw another pebble hurled in her direction from behind the branches. Then, the branch which was hiding the stranger was broken off.

At the loud snap of the wood, Aaya internally startled but kept a calm face as she watched the branch clearing away the screen separating her eyes from the stranger.

That branch, had been snapped of by the man, who sweated in pain, silently bearing it, as he broke off the twigs and veins of the leaves from the main branch, turning it into a sturdy long stick. A somewhat passable weapon.

Against her.

But Aaya did not pay attention to his paranoia.

She was much more busier looking at him again. Seeing his features, and this time, consciously making a mental note of all injuries inflicted on his strong frame.

This man's hair was inky black, gathered on a now loose knot on top of his head, strands of it flowing down, framing an aristocratically handsome face. With his olive skin over his regal forehead, chiselled jaw and arrogant nose, to the beautifully shaped lips tipped with a cruel smirk, this man, even at his death door, had an intense aura the likes of which she had never encountered before.

Half of his face streaked with the scarlet of his blood, he was still beyond handsome.

But his eyes with its icy look spilling danger, transformed his beauty to a deadly threat.

He was no ordinary person, let alone be an ordinary soldier.

As for the rest of him, in addition to the wounds Aaya had catalogued on his torso, his legs were folded in a normal manner but the ground beside it was slightly dark. On his right thigh, the fabric was ripped in a huge scale, but she could not see the normal colour of his skin.

It was dyed a dark shade of reddish brown.

Aaya's eyes rose to clash with his cold black gaze again.

The man had broken the branch in two and positioned both the sticks with its jagged ends in a casual manner and rested them in his palms, his gaze, focused on her.

The message was very clear.

He did not want her to come near him.

"You do not want my help?" Aaya asked calmly.

The only answer she received was a clenching of his jaw, his eyes sharpening.

Still, Aaya took a step towards him. the warrior reacted according to his threat.

His body tensed up as he braced himself to stab her with the branch. Of what little she had seen and experienced, it was clear that he did have the ability to use a simple branch as a deadly weapon on her.

But that was not what stopped Aaya. With the tensing of his posture in readying himself for an attack against her, the portion of fabric sticking to his abdomen, not covered by the plate and mail armour, got wet again.

The previously dry crusty fabric, bent, got damp and then soaked again.

"Okay. Stop!" Aaya called out as she put a hand out in front of her.

Contempt and disgust spread in the upward tilt of his sensual lips, thinking about her cowardice. But that expression was quickly wiped away when Aaya pointed to the fresh blood, "Don't strain yourself. I am not a threat for you to bleed any more than you already have."

Saying this, she retreated and then without waiting for a reply or a backward glance went to her wicker basket, distancing herself from the spot where he sat.

For the next hours, what followed became somewhat of a game to her, although to the poor soldier, her humour was probably not shared.

It was completely unwelcome to him.

Aaya quickly started collecting the herbs she needed to help him, the different elements and fruits needed to make the pastes and the medicines to save him. Thankfully, she at a site where all such plants were available.

But she also knew that the taciturn stubborn warrior would not let her help.

Eyes twinkling with her own determination, the strength of which could challenge him, Aaya busily started a routine.

Firstly, she gathered all that she needed.

This meant the warrior sat watching her keenly, as she went everywhere in the clearing.

She was by the stream, taking a few plants just under the water. She was carefully selecting different leaves on the opposite side. She was bending forward to smell a shrub before cutting it. She was holding on to a root of a tree, half hanging, half crouching from an elevated land while trying to vigorously shake a flower alongwith its root from the ground.

Aaya was outwardly calm, while thanking the God for not making her fall while on that quest. She really did not want any more points in her chest of absurdness to be viewed by her audience.

Once she had all the plants, roots, fruits, leaves and branches she required, she sorted them out in front of her and sectioned it to the proportions she needed at the moment and put the rest in her basket.

Then, she had glanced at the Warrior again.

"Will you tell me your name, Sir?" she asked.

Those dark eyes which had tracked her every movement remained steady in their regard of her, sparing no softness. Or answer.

Hmmm, I shall have your name soon.

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