A tall man with black hair and clothes that had once been elegant made his way briskly throughout the burning houses. The villagers still could not put out the fire, and their hopes of saving something faded more and more with each passing moment.

The man in black seemed haunted and hopeless until he saw something. He stood still for a few moments, and then hope returned to his gaze, and he murmured. "Hope..."

The woman was standing on the ground supported by a stone fence, holding her knees in her arms. Looking at a fixed point out of this world, she seemed oblivious to Drake's presence. A fine layer of grime was covering her face, and her wacky hair was splotchy with ashes where it had been too close to the flames. She held her palms out so they wouldn't touch her knees, and Drake noticed that the fire badly burned the skin on the inside of her hands.

The man knelt beside her. "Which one was your house?"

The woman didn't blink or look away. As if she were a doll and the puppeteer only pulled on the hand-moving thread, Hope's hand moved without causing any disturbance to her body or fingers. She pointed vaguely at the house in front of her. The fire was still smoldering, but it had largely gone out. Drake got up and headed there. He entered carefully, not to be caught under the rubble again in case something else collapsed.

Near the entrance, he immediately saw an almost complete charred corpse. The horrible sight did not impress Drake at all, but a shiver ran through his body when he realized that Hope had seen the same thing. The corpse was very close to the door and could be seen from the outside, if the door was open.

Then he realized that, when Hope got here, she opened the burning door, which is why her palms were so burnt. He considered it a miracle that she did not throw herself into the flames to get the corpse out, knowing that this impulsiveness would have been so into her character.

"You should have come faster! You should not have stopped saving all the human children who are born only to rest their worthless shades upon this land. You shouldn't have allowed this to happen!"

The creature's voice grew louder and louder, and Drake wasn't feeling strong enough to push him back into the depths of his being. He was too tired to fight and murmured helplessly. "Can you please shut the fuck up?"

The dragon was not going to give up. "Do you see the condition of the girl? What if she doesn't recover? What if she remains in this state forever? What if she was irreparably shocked? "

Drake shook his head. "Impossible! Hope is strong, and she will get over it. She only needs time and space and by no means your unnecessary worries. I'll take care of this! "

"How? Do you intend to do it in the same way you managed to find her before something happened?" snorted the Fire Dragon.

Drake was tired, and all he wanted was to take care of Hope and not bother with this annoying creature. He lifted a burnt wooden pole, broke it on his knee, and kept the sharper half. Drake grabbed it with both hands and placed it near his heart. "One more word, and I will pierce my chest with it. I've had enough. Go back and leave me. "

Drake paused and then whispered, "Please."

Though he wasn't sure if it was due to the threat or the last word, he no longer felt the presence of the annoying beast. He breathed a sigh of relief and walked away from the ruined house.

Drake talked to the villagers and managed to get a bucket of water, clean rags, and some ointment for burns. When he returned, Hope was in the same position and had not moved an inch.

The man sat down and tenderly raised one of her hands, pulling it towards him and placing it with the palm up in his lap. He cleaned it with a damp cloth, and after it dried, he applied ointment. He expected to see her startle because he knew she had to endure terrible pain, considering how nasty the wounds looked. Hope didn't move or blink. Drake bandaged her hand in another clean cloth, then got up and moved to the other side of her, repeating the procedure on the other hand.

A monotonous silence had descended upon them, in which only the crackling of burning wood could be heard. The smell of smoke was already soaked in their nostrils, and they could no longer smell it.

When he had finished bandaging her hands, Drake took the last clean cloth left, soaked it in water, and began to wash her dirty cheeks gently. Hope didn't move this time either.

Drake sighed, realizing he had nothing left to do, so he sat down next to her and leaned against the same stone fence. Knowing how much he also needed his moments of peace, he decided to respect her quietness.

By dusk, Drake was about to break the silence several times, always thinking he had found something interesting to say that could soothe her and get her out of that state. But every time he opened his lips to say something, he realized it wasn't enough. Nothing he could say would be enough.

No one would have imagined that he would see the imposing Lord Springwood looking like a beggar and sleeping at night supported by a stone fence. A passerby recognized him from a celebration a few years ago and thought he was the perfect example of how wealthy people can decay.

When Drake woke up, he saw Hope sleeping with her head on his shoulder and holding him in her arms. He looked at her with pride and admiration and began to caress her ruffled hair. If the same passerby had seen him now, he would have realized that only now had Drake become the richest man in the world.