Daniel wasn't inside the house for a minute before he emerged with a collection of medical supplies. He wasn't a blur of motion, but he moved with an almost supernatural speed, gathering everything he needed in a matter of moments. It was as if he had packed everything in a single bag, but in reality, he had collected the items from different places.
The problem was, Daniel had no experience with medical care. He had never treated anyone before, nor had he ever been to a doctor himself. He hadn't even seen anyone being treated professionally. But that didn't mean he would let her die just because he lacked experience.
He possessed a peculiar talent, a strange ability to make things work simply by willing them to. It wasn't a superpower in the traditional sense, but it was definitely something extraordinary. He had been born with this gift, but he and others rarely considered it a true superpower.
The medical equipment wasn't his. It belonged to his father, a former medical doctor. You might wonder why Daniel hadn't learned from his father, or at least asked for guidance. After all, being the son of a doctor, you'd expect some medical knowledge, wouldn't you?
The truth was, Daniel didn't even live with his father. His father was a busy man, dedicated to his medical practice, always out there saving lives. He only came home once or twice a month, spending a few hours with his family before leaving again. He hadn't gone to the hospital to visit his Dad because he was professionally busy, and his Dad also didn't bother inviting Daniel over, not wanting to be distracted from his work.
The hospital buzzed with activity, a constant stream of patients seeking Dr. Evans's renowned expertise. His dedication was legendary, and his waiting room was always packed. It was peculiar, then, that he often brought home medical supplies.
These weren't just any supplies, however. They were the remnants of his final shift before his tragic dismissal. 
So sadden that once a happy man suddenly returned home, heartbroken and tearful, after refusing to participate in a corrupt scheme that endangered patients' lives and lined the pockets of the hospital's administrators. His unwavering integrity had cost him his job.
That very night, tragedy struck. They were attacked by the unknown and the both parents were killed, leaving him orphaned and with a burning desire for revenge. Daniel soon discovered a chilling truth – his family's demise was no random act. He was targeted because of a hidden destiny that lay ahead, a destiny he was now determined to fulfill.
As he struggled to process this revelation, he found himself face-to-face with the wounded lady. He instinctively reached for the spirit bottle he carried, a reminder of his father's healing touch. With gentle hands, he cleaned her wound, applying antiseptic and bandages while she moaned in pain.
Her body grew cold, her teeth chattering uncontrollably. Daniel, as he now called himself, grabbed a towel and helped her clean up. He gently removed her clothes, leaving her in only her underwear, his focus solely on her well-being.
She gazed at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and gratitude. Daniel, however, was oblivious to her gaze, his mind consumed by the task at hand. He carefully placed her hand on a pillow, covered her with a blanket, and adjusted the thermostat to a warmer setting.
Slowly, she regained her strength, sitting up and clutching herself for comfort. Daniel watched her, a flicker of concern in his eyes.
"You should be feeling better now, right?" he asked, his voice laced with hope. She nodded, a radiant smile lighting up her face. She was safe, thanks to this kind, compassionate young man.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely a breath. It was a testament to her weakness, a near-death experience that had left her drained and vulnerable. But she was alive, and that was all that mattered. She owed her life to this kind stranger, Daniel, and her heart swelled with gratitude.
Daniel, too, felt a surge of satisfaction. Saving a life, that was the only thing that truly made him feel alive. He wanted to ask her about the attack, about Mark, but he could see she was too fragile. Pressing her now would only add to her stress, undoing all the good he had done.
He decided to wait. For now, his focus was on her recovery. He needed to ensure she was safe, comfortable, and cared for. In the morning, he would ask her about her situation, offering his help in any way he could. The initial fear he had felt, the suspicion that she was a trap, had vanished. He knew now that she was genuine, and he was determined to help her.
"I think you're hungry," he said, his voice gentle. "I've made something. Let me bring it to you." He turned and headed towards the kitchen.
She wanted to tell him to stop, to explain that she couldn't possibly accept his kindness. But her voice was too weak, her body too exhausted. She was starving, desperately in need of food. She couldn't bear to deny him the satisfaction of helping her, especially knowing how difficult it must be for him to obtain food himself. He was being hunted, denied the basic necessities of life. She felt a pang of guilt, knowing she was burdening him further. But she couldn't help it. She needed to eat. Perhaps, when she was stronger, she could repay his kindness, find a way to help him in return. But for now, she could only accept his generosity, a silent promise to repay him in kind.
Daniel returned shortly, a plate of food in hand. The aroma of the meal filled the room, making her stomach rumble with anticipation. She was famished, and the delicious scent was almost intoxicating. This man, Daniel, was good at everything, wasn't he? He was a skilled doctor, a compassionate caregiver, and now, it seemed, a gifted cook. He was simply extraordinary.
He placed the plate on the table, his voice gentle. "The food is here. You should eat." He didn't wait for her to try to sit up on her own. Instead, he bent down and helped her, his strong arms supporting her as she leaned against the cushions.
He noticed her struggle, the way her body trembled with effort. He knew she wouldn't be able to eat on her own, not yet. So, he made a decision.
"Don't worry, I'll help you," he said, taking the plate and sitting beside her. He picked up a spoon and carefully brought it to her lips. She accepted the first bite, her eyes wide with surprise and gratitude. But when he offered her a second spoonful, she hesitated, her gaze fixed on him.
He was a mystery to her, this kind, selfless man. She couldn't fathom anyone treating a stranger with such tenderness, such care. It was as if she were his own daughter, not a nameless, wounded woman he'd found in the streets. His compassion was overwhelming, his kindness a beacon in the darkness. He was a rare gem, a treasure to be cherished, not scorned.
"What's wrong?" he asked, sensing her hesitation. She nodded, her eyes filled with wonder, and accepted the second bite.
She chewed slowly, savoring the taste of the food. Daniel, sensing her need, offered her a glass of water, which she gratefully accepted. As she finished the meal, she looked at him, her heart filled with a mix of gratitude and awe.
"Why are you so concerned about me?" she asked, her voice laced with confusion. "I mean, why are you doing all this? Not even my parents have ever taken care of me like this since I was born."
He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. "It's nothing," he mumbled, his gaze flickering away from hers. "You just needed help, and that's all I do. I try my best to help people. It pains me to see that they don't understand. They don't see that I want to help them. All those people out there, they were supporting the wrong ones, the ones who came to reap and kill them! I'm trying to make the world a better place, but it's so incredibly difficult for people to understand."
He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. "It's like they're blind to the truth, to the real danger." He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "But I won't give up. I'll keep trying to help, even if they don't see it."