What reason can be used to knock on his door?

  Cynthia opened her fan and fanned herself, I see you're injured so I thought of treating you?

  She shook her head, this reason was too far-fetched. The whole of Rydania disliked black-haired people for no reason and she, the princess, was an exception.

  Bang!

  A loud noise came from next door, the sound of something heavy falling on the floor.

  Cynthia heard the noise and her hands stopped moving. The fan was immediately closed and thrown onto the table.

  She got up and walked to the wooden wall, tapping her fingers on it lightly, "Are you okay?"

  After waiting for a while and knocking several times without getting any response, Cynthia directly opened the door and walked out.

  This injury is quite good, hopefully he has fainted, just suitable for her to think of no reason and heroically save the beauty.

  No matter what her motive was, as long as she saved him, he wouldn't immediately cut her throat after recovering.

  Cynthia walked up to his door, the flickering flames visible through the crack at the bottom, and Joyce's worried voice came from the stairwell, "Miss Cynthia?"

  "I'm fine, no need to come up."

  When the staircase entrance was quiet, Cynthia tried to push the door, and it creaked open with a slight effort.

  It seems this young man never thought that someone would dare to enter his residence.

  Inside was a carpet almost invisible under its original color, and an overturned kerosene lamp on it had already caught fire.

  The dark figure collapsed on the edge of the table, a pale hand with almost invisible blood vessels being scorched by flames.

  Cynthia lifted her skirt and walked in, bent down to pull his cloak off and beat it fiercely against the flames.

  Fortunately, the fire was not big, and she didn't have to exert much effort to put it out. Of course, the cloak in her hand was also badly damaged.

  People on the ground had no shelter from the wind and were completely exposed.

  He wore an expensive-looking black long shirt, a pair of gray trousers tucked into leather boots, with no decorations at all, except for the piece of cloth around his waist which was darker in color than anywhere else.

  This ancient style suits this figure perfectly, thought Cynthia.

  She shifted her gaze to the young man's face, and for a moment, her eyes were dazed.

  She thought she was the most dazzling red rose in Riedonia, but the young man's face was as delicate as if it were carved from a statue of a god, and this appearance that rivaled the gods was enough to make her lose her luster.

  "Hmm..."

  A voice suppressed in pain escaped from his crimson lips.

  The young man closed his eyes, his short black hair disheveled and stuck to his forehead. The silver light that spilled into the room drove away some of the darkness, illuminating his pale skin like frost in a forest, yet also radiating a tragic beauty due to his messy hairstyle.

  Cynthia had never seen such a beautiful yet repressed and icy young man, like an undercurrent of death.

  She stretched out her hand and gently touched his cheek, the skin that her fingertips came into contact with was soft and carried a scorching temperature.

  "Has he been shot?" She forced her gaze back to his waist, that piece of color darker than black, with a small white spot in the middle.

  Her hand went to his waist again, gently tugging at his clothes, and the white that spilled out was stained with blood, it was his skin.

  Something sharp cut through his clothes and stabbed into his waist.

  The wound is still bleeding until now.

  Cynthia thought it should have been stabbed not long ago, and she checked the wound under the moonlight, unaware that the young man with his eyes tightly closed had opened them.

  She wanted to tear open his already torn clothes, exposing the wound completely for her to dress, but as soon as she grabbed the fabric of his clothes and was about to pull, her wrist was caught by a hand with scorching high temperature.

  Cynthia was startled and turned around, suddenly colliding with a pair of irises that were scarlet to the point where the pupils were almost invisible.

  There was nothing inside, cold and empty, horribly frightening, almost freezing her body stiff.

  "What do you want to do?"

  His flat tone had no ups and downs, but Cynthia felt a sense of danger for no reason, just like the oppressive gaze she had detected downstairs.

  What is she doing?

  What else can she do!

  Cynthia felt that if she wasn't careful and said the wrong thing, this young man with devilish eyes would easily crush her wrist.

  "I live next door..." She trembled with her voice, and the sapphire-like eyes quickly reacted to cover a layer of mist. The only free-moving hand pointed to the broken kerosene lamp not far away, "Just now... you fell to the ground, and the room is on fire."

  Kai Er followed her white and plump fingertips, saw that coal oil lamp which was knocked to the ground by him.

  The room fell silent for a while.

  He still didn't let go of the hand that was gripping Cynthia, and the great force seemed to have cut off the blood flow in her wrist, she had already started to feel numbness in her palm.

  "Cynthia said in a soft voice again: 'I just came to help you with good intentions, the room wasn't locked, and I didn't intentionally intrude, sir.'"

  Her unbeatable beauty apparently didn't have much effect here in Kairós.

  He was lost in his own thoughts until he heard the pleading voice beside him, and then refocused his gaze on her, this time with a scrutinizing expression.

  He spoke in a low, hoarse voice, "The Saintess who betrayed the God of Light."

  Does this mean they're on the same boat?

  One inclines towards darkness, one abandons light, it's quite like that.

  But is that what you mean? Why does he look so out of sorts?

  Cynthia lowered her eyes and felt that it was better for her to tell the truth as the other person's aura became increasingly dangerous.

  She raised her eyes and said seriously: "I did not betray the God of Light, I have always taken the God of Light as my highest faith, I was framed by my sister Minnie."

  "Well, then you should just let the flames kill me." Kael's eyes narrowed as he dropped her hand and pushed himself up to a sitting position, his voice strained with a suppressed fury.

  If he wasn't connected to the God of Light and had pushed forward the progress bar, Cynthia would have been delighted if he was burned to death by a fire, after all his appearance was still suitable for appreciation with closed eyes.

  Due to his proximity, a faint scent of peppermint mixed with the smell of blood rushed straight into Cynthia's forehead, restoring some clarity to her thoughts.

  She knelt beside him, her body shifted slightly backward, her fingers stained with blood intertwined on her knees tightened slightly, and said softly:

  "I too am to be exiled to Tamriel on a trumped-up charge; we are all guilty."

  "So... I, I won't be able to watch you die." She raised her eyes, trying to force herself into a kind image, compelling herself to look at him with her reddened eyes, trembling as she spoke:

  "Sir, if my rescue disturbed you, I can relight a fire for you. There is still a gas lamp in my room."