Seeing Mitchel look at her without a word, she added, "Why are you giving me that look? By bringing you here, I risked getting in trouble with my grandfather. He is unaware of your presence, and if he found out, he would worry and forbid me from keeping you here. So, please, try to keep a low profile. I don't want to worry my grandfather."

"Okay," Mitchel murmured in response. He was silent for a moment, then he added, “Thank you."

After he spoke, the room fell into silence again. The heavy silence made Marlowe feel awkward. She coughed uneasily, trying to think of something to talk about.

Before she could find something to say, she heard a rumbling sound.

It came from Mitchel's belly.

She gave him a surprised look and then glanced at the untouched bowl of soup on the nightstand. "Hungry, huh?" she asked with a smile.

Mitchel sat in the dimly lit room, his shoulders slumped and his eyes fixed on the floor. Clearly, he didn't want to admit that he was hungry.

Despite his best efforts to hide it, his stomach betrayed him again, growling loudly.

Marlowe suppressed a chuckle as she carried the untouched bowl of soup over to him. "Here you go; dig in. It won't cost you anything to eat!"

However, Mitchel didn't move.

Marlowe was confused as she looked at Mitchel. “What's wrong? You don't want to eat? Well, I'm sorry but this is all I can give you right now given your condition."

Mitchell's gaze lingered on the unappetizing sight of the soup sitting in front of him. After a moment of contemplation, he finally admitted in a slow and hesitant tone, "I'm not a fan of soup."

Marlowe was left speechless.

After a short moment of silence, she looked at Mitchel and muttered, “You picky eater."

She then took away the bowl of uneaten soup and returned a few minutes later with some bread.

This time, Mitchel gladly ate.

When he had completed his meal, he carefully examined the wound on his shoulder and turned to Marlowe with a concerned expression. "Do you happen to have a first aid kit handy?" he inquired. "I'm capable of tending the wound myself."

“Oh, sure," Marlowe replied at once and fetched the first aid kit she had brought. She took some clean gauze and some bandages from the kit and handed them to him.

Under Marlowe's impressed gaze, Mitchel expertly removed the old bandages from his wound and disinfected the wound. Then, he applied some medication to the wound before putting on new bandages. His movements were smooth.

Marlowe was really impressed, and she couldn't help but compliment him. "You're really good with your hands. In fact, you're even more skillful with your hands than some doctors I've seen.”