"Doshaguma—" (along with the word came a clear image: a huge, long-furred, ferocious beast) "—almost killed you. I'm glad I made it in time."
So the killing intent Shiao Yi had sensed had come from that creature—a Doshaguma. And this man had saved him.
They were filming in a seriously dangerous location. Shiao Yi thought to himself how hard actors must work for realism. Putting their lives on the line for the sake of a scene—it was impressive and a little insane.
"I'm Dominic de Beaumont, I'm the Captain of the Knight Order Second Division. What's your name? And why was a child like you alone in such a dangerous forest?"
As the man shared his name, a flood of images entered Shiao Yi's mind—memories, emotions, pieces of a story. But before Shiao Yi could absorb any of it, one strange word caught his attention and threw him off.
A child? Did this man just call him a child?
He was eighteen years old. Sure, people often said he looked younger, but still...
Had he asked for his name? His identification number is number 7, that what people always calling him that. But something stopped him from sharing it with him. He didn't want to give this man this information. Instead, he shared the name he had kept all this time to remind himself that he was human.
"My name is Shiao Yi. I'm from a place called Earth. If it's hard to pronounce, you can just call me Shiao. But I'm not a child. I'm eighteen."
The man's eyes widened for a second, then softened into a gentle smile.
It was a beautiful smile—warm, sincere. The kind of smile that reached into your chest. No one had ever smiled at him like that before.
Getting caught off guard by his smile, he found himself staring at him.
At the same time, Dominic said something completely unexpected. "Shiao… you're so adorable. You can call me Dominic."
Adorable? Adorable?!
It was a word Shiao Yi wasn't used to hearing. And now his mind was in complete chaos.
...
Shiao Yi's body, which should have been shattered from the gravitational wave attack—his bones broken, his internal organs ruptured—had completely healed after just a day. The pain had faded, and somehow, he was whole again. It didn't make sense. What kind of treatment could do something like that?
A man dressed like an old-fashioned soldier brought him a meal. It was simple—just bread and wine—but the bread carried the warm, rich scent of natural yeast.
Someone who seemed to be a doctor also came to check on him. But even the doctor was dressed in a loose tunic and pants, not a lab coat. The restroom, too, looked like something from a different era—primitive and old.
The building itself and the people he passed didn't resemble any film crew or actors. And really, who wears full costume all day long, even off-camera? It didn't add up. Even the most dedicated actor wouldn't go this far.