Charlotte's fingers twitched.
Once.
"Ow…"
The sound came out small. Raw.
And it wasn't just her fingers.
Her whole body felt like she'd been thrown into a blender and set to maximum.
Which made zero sense—she almost never felt pain. Like… ever.
"Why do I have to look after her?"
A deep male voice complained somewhere nearby.
"Because you're the one who blew her up. Obviously. So you're responsible."
Another male voice answered.
"Tch. Such a hassle…"
The first guy sighed like a man carrying the weight of the universe.
"Just stay here. I'll be right—wait. She's awake."
Fast footsteps approached.
"Hey, Eden. How're you feeling? Try moving. Not paralyzed or anything, right?"
The second guy spoke fast. Too fast.
Charlotte's foggy brain couldn't keep up.
…Eden? Who?
Another set of footsteps approached—slow this time. Quiet.
Charlotte pried her heavy eyelids open.
A blast of bright light stabbed into her eyes and she winced, shutting them again before slowly, painfully reopening them.
She lifted a weak hand to block the glare, blinking until her eyes adjusted enough to stop watering.
"Huh. Looks like that arm still works," Fast-Talker said.
Once the world stopped spinning, Charlotte finally got a look at the two strangers beside the bed.
One sat in a chair—blue hair, short with long bangs swept over one eye, pale skin, bright orange irises. Looked around her age, maybe seventeen or eighteen.
The other one stood—a taller guy with tan skin, short black hair, and golden eyes. Same age range.
She blinked at them. Hard.
Cosplayers? Seriously?
"Hey, Eden. Say something. How do you feel?" Blue-Hair asked.
"You're… calling who? I'm not Eden."
Her voice came out hoarse and dry. Talking hurt.
"Um… can I get some water?"
Blue-Hair poured her some and helped her sit up.
"What do you mean you're not Eden?" he asked while letting her sip the water.
Charlotte drank, even though her whole soul was screaming GIVE ME THE WHOLE JUG RIGHT NOW.
Weirdly enough… the water tasted different. Fresher. Clearer. Too good.
But she was too confused to question it.
Once she'd downed the entire glass, she felt much better—awake, alert, and able to stare at the two boys.
Wow.
Both of them were stupidly good-looking.
Like straight-out-of-anime levels of attractive.
One nerdy-cute.
One cool, tall, dark, and handsome.
"Oi. Stop staring. Don't even think about trying to eat us. Not happening."
Blue-Hair snapped, scooting his chair away like she was contagious.
"Eat… what?" Charlotte blinked.
"Anyway, since you're fine, you can go back to your own tent now," he added.
"Wait, wait—don't kick me out yet. Let me think. I'm so confused. How did I get here? Who are you people? And why was I—ugh—"
A sharp pain throbbed in her skull.
She clutched her head.
"Uh-oh. Maybe her brain really did get rattled," Blue-Hair muttered.
"Noah, get me the painkiller."
Golden-Eyes—Noah—sighed and went to grab the medicine.
He returned a moment later, holding out a pill.
Charlotte looked at him—just for a second—and took it.
After a moment, the headache eased.
"Alright. I think I'm doing better. Can you tell me what happened to me?"
She straightened, testing her arms and legs. Everything seemed to be working.
"When I activated the explosive to retrieve the sealed treasure, you swam right into it. Got caught in the blast. I brought you back for treatment."
Noah recited this like he was explaining how to fry an egg.
"You WHAT? I got blown up—and you didn't take me to a hospital?"
Charlotte gawked and patted her face. She felt gauze taped over several spots.
"Mirror. Please."
Blue-Hair handed it over.
One look at her reflection—gauze patches on her face and body—and panic bloomed.
Scars.
Was she going to have scars?!
"Don't worry. You'll be fine. No scars. Trust the medicine I made."
Blue-Hair lifted his chin.
"Thanks… wait. You made the medicine?"
Charlotte raised an eyebrow. Very suspicious.
"Thank Noah instead. I already deducted the cost of your medicine from his share," Blue-Hair said.
"Hn." Noah grunted, unimpressed.
Charlotte replayed Noah's words in her head.
She didn't remember any explosion.
All she remembered was being in the Maldives on a diving trip with her parents.
…So how did she end up here?
Then she noticed something else.
Her clothes.
Or rather—her not clothes.
She wore an oversized black shirt that reached mid-thigh.
"Uh… this shirt—"
"It's mine," Noah said.
"…and my clothes?"
"They got blown to shreds. I tore them off and put mine on you."
Noah said it with the same tone one might use when describing the weather.
"Y-you tore them off? You changed my clothes? You??"
"Yes."
Charlotte turned scarlet.
And then she realized—
She wasn't wearing any underwear under the shirt.
She almost screamed.
"Why are you embarrassed? I don't get it. All your outfits look like you're half-naked anyway."
Blue-Hair muttered.