Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

Brielle felt a knot in her stomach remembering her first run-in with Dustin. It hadn't exactly been a warm welcome, but there was no hostility in his demeanor. Their eyes locked, and he seemed startled before inviting her to be his date. Blood ties are perhaps the most inexplicable force in the world.

Dustin had always hoped Brielle could be his sister. But back then, she had her own family, and with the Fox family scandal blowing up, both of them shied away from such thoughts. Now, Dustin had disappeared with the truth.

Brielle watched Raymond and the woman next to him, Annie, feeling too hesitant to approach. Instead, she hid.

From the moment she set foot on this land, her heart was a whirlwind of nerves and excitement.

Tears streamed down her face when she saw the model airplane.

Dustin was undoubtedly the best brother anyone could ask for.

He just had to be okay.

In a remote mountain village.

Dustin lay in bed, his torso still wrapped in bandages.

Emma brought him a bowl of chicken noodle soup, avoiding eye contact.

"Drink this; you haven't had anything decent to eat in days."

Dustin glanced at her and opened his mouth, signaling for her to feed him.

Emma's face tightened as she spoon-fed him the soup. His mouth moved deftly, as if he was used to being pampered this way.

After the soup, Emma changed his bandages. The room was filled with the scent of herbal remedies.

Since the day Dustin woke up, the pungent aroma of herbs had filled the air, even clinging to Emma's skin with its ever-changing scent.ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

Once she finished tending to his wounds, Emma hurried outside to dry more herbs. She was the village's only herbalist, and her family depended on the sale of these herbs for their livelihood.

She cleaned and dried them, making

trips to town every couple of months to sell the dried herbs. It wasn't

get

much, but it could bring in about two thousand a month, although her mother's medical expenses took up half of that.

Emma's skin, bronzed from constant sun exposure, had a healthy and athletic glow. This wasn't favored in her country, where pale and delicate features were the beauty standard. But in the West, her sun-kissed, muscular physique was the epitome of beauty.

Even in the chill of early spring, she dressed lightly for herb gathering. Inside her room, she efficiently stripped off her coat, sliding two knives into her boots.

Through the slightly ajar door, Dustin's gaze caught Emma lifting her shirt, revealing her toned abs. Though in this isolated village, no one knew the allure of a defined core.

At twenty-five and unmarried, with

an ailing mother and a deceased

father, Emma's prospects for marriage were grim. Her fierce. reputation was notorious, making her the subject of village gossip.

After changing, Emma grabbed her basket, ready to leave. Dustin watched her and couldn't help but speak up. "Where's the restroom?"

Emma stiffened, then turned to look at him. Dustin was still bedridden, in pain with every movement, and needed support. She had crafted a crutch for him, imitating one from a video, as those in town were expensive, but Dustin refused to use it.

He was tall, towering over her as he rose from the bed, almost enveloping her completely.

His arm draped over Emma's shoulder, he said nonchalantly, "I need to use the restroom."

After a moment's pause, Emma bent down and hoisted him onto her shoulder. "Shall I carry you then?"

"Ouch, ouch, ouch!" Dustin complained, the soup he had just ingested threatening to come back up. Pushing her away in exasperation, he protested, "Ever seen a woman carry a man like this?" The next second, she squatted in front of him, "Or, should I give you a piggyback ride?"