Valen remained alone for a moment before the pain in his arm intensified.
He glanced at the bandage.
The bleeding had started again, slowly seeping through the fabric.
He clicked his tongue in annoyance and reached for his phone.
“Anthony.” “Yes, Master?” “Come here.
Take me to my room.” Anthony arrived within minutes.
The moment he saw Valen standing there, his expression changed.
“Master…” “I’m fine.” Anthony glanced at the blood beginning to stain the bandage.
“You don’t look fine.” “Just take me upstairs.” Anthony helped him toward the staircase, his eyes returning to the wound.
“You should have let Miss Matthew take care of you.” Valen said nothing.
“She knows what she’s doing.” “I didn’t want her to.” Anthony looked at him.
“Why?” “Because I didn’t.” Anthony sighed quietly.
Sometimes arguing with his master was like arguing with a wall.
Valen took a step toward the stairs, but halfway there, he slowed.
His breathing had become heavier, and for a brief second, he closed his eyes.
Anthony immediately moved closer.
“Master?” “I said I’m fine.” But this time, his voice was quieter.
Anthony looked at him carefully.
Valen was trying to hide it, but the pain was clearly getting worse.
His shoulders were tense, his jaw clenched, and he was keeping his injured arm completely still.
“You’re getting worse.” Valen gave him an irritated look.
“I’m not.” “You’re pale.” “I haven’t slept much.” “And you’re bleeding through the bandage.” Valen glanced down at his arm as if the blood were merely an inconvenience.
Anthony sighed.
“You should have let Miss Matthew stay.” “I didn’t want her to.” “Why?” Valen remained silent for a moment.
Then his expression hardened.
“Because she hates blood.” Anthony frowned slightly.
“Miss Matthew?” “She has a phobia of it,” Valen explained, his voice quieter.
“She tries to hide it, but I’ve seen how she reacts.
She was already pale while treating me.” Anthony looked toward the door through which Isadora had left.
“So you sent her away because you were worried about her?” “I didn’t want her to endure this for me.” Anthony raised an eyebrow.
“You could have simply told her that.” “I didn’t want her to stay.” “That isn’t what I asked.” Valen said nothing.
Anthony stared at him for a moment, almost unable to believe the stubbornness he was witnessing.
“She offered to monitor you.” “I wanted some peace.” “You wanted her to leave because you knew she was uncomfortable.” Valen’s jaw tightened.
“I didn’t want her standing here, looking at my blood and pretending she wasn’t afraid.” Anthony’s expression softened slightly.
“And you thought insulting her was the best way to make her leave?” Valen looked away.
“She talks too much.” “That was not an answer.” “It worked.” Anthony sighed.
“She left angry.” “She’ll get over it.” Another wave of pain crossed Valen’s face, this time impossible to hide.
He instinctively pressed his good hand against the injured arm.
Anthony helped him toward the staircase, keeping a firm hand near his back in case he lost his balance.
Once they reached the bedroom, Valen sat on the edge of the bed and leaned back, finally allowing himself to breathe through the pain.
Anthony immediately reached for his phone.
“I’m calling the family doctor.” Valen looked at him.
“Do whatever you want.” Anthony was already dialing.
He had learned one thing after years of serving Valen Da Costa: when his master finally stopped arguing, the situation was usually more serious than he wanted anyone to know.
.
.
The family doctor arrived less than twenty minutes later, carrying his medical bag as Anthony led him upstairs.
By then, Valen was sitting on the edge of his bed, his injured arm resting carefully against his side.
He looked exhausted, though he would never admit it.
The doctor approached him immediately.
“Let me see the wound.” Valen removed the temporary bandage without complaint.
The doctor examined the cut carefully, checking the edges of the wound before cleaning away the remaining blood.
“How did this happen?” “Broken glass.” The doctor glanced at Anthony, then back at Valen.
“And you waited this long?” Valen said nothing.
Anthony answered for him.
“Miss Matthew treated it first.” The doctor looked at the bandage.
“She did?” “Yes.” He examined the wound again, then nodded approvingly.
“She did a good job.” Anthony’s expression relaxed slightly.
“The bleeding was controlled, the wound was cleaned properly, and she checked his hand and wrist?” “Yes,” Anthony replied.
The doctor looked at Valen.
“Any numbness?” “No.” “Difficulty moving your fingers?” “No.” “Good.
That’s reassuring.” He cleaned the wound again before carefully examining it in more detail.
“The cut is deeper than it looks, but fortunately there doesn’t appear to be any damage to the tendons or nerves.
The first aid you received was actually very helpful.
If she hadn’t cleaned and dressed it properly, you could have had a much bigger problem by now.” Valen’s eyes shifted briefly toward Anthony.
The doctor continued preparing his instruments.
“I’ll close the wound with a few stitches.
After that, you’ll need to keep it clean and avoid putting too much strain on the arm.” Valen gave a quiet sigh.
“I have work tomorrow.” The doctor looked at him over his glasses.
“You have an injured arm.” “I know.” “Then let it rest.” Anthony almost smiled.
For once, someone else was telling his master exactly what he had been trying to tell him all evening.
The doctor began stitching the wound.
Valen remained completely still, his expression unreadable despite the occasional tightening of his jaw.
When the procedure was finished, the doctor dressed the wound properly and stepped back.
“There.
Much better.” Anthony looked at the fresh bandage.
“Is he going to be fine?” “Yes.
He’ll be sore for a few days, but nothing alarming.
He needs rest, regular dressing changes, and he shouldn’t ignore any signs of infection.” Anthony nodded.
The doctor packed his things before looking at Valen one last time.
“And next time, don’t wait until the wound starts bleeding through the bandage before calling me.” Valen leaned back against the headboard.
“I wasn’t going to.” Anthony raised an eyebrow.
The doctor gave him a knowing look.
“Of course you weren’t.” Once the doctor left, silence settled over the room.
Anthony glanced at Valen.
“You know, Miss Matthew was right.” Valen’s eyes narrowed.
“Don’t start.” Anthony smiled faintly.
“I didn’t say anything.” “You were about to.” “Yes, Master.” Valen leaned back against the headboard and looked at the bandage again.
The doctor had confirmed that Isadora’s first aid had prevented the wound from worsening.
She had cleaned it properly, controlled the bleeding, and checked that there was no damage to his hand or wrist.
He had to admit that she had handled the situation efficiently.
That was all.
There was no reason to make more of it.
“She did a good job,” Anthony remarked.
Valen’s expression remained neutral.
“She knows what she’s doing.” Anthony nodded.
“And you still sent her away.” “I didn’t need her to stay.” “You were bleeding through the bandage less than ten minutes later.” Valen gave him a cold look.
“The doctor took care of it.” “Because I called him.” “Exactly.” Anthony sighed, but decided not to argue further.
Valen glanced toward the door.
Isadora had left for the hospital, probably still irritated by their argument.
He could already imagine her complaining about him to anyone willing to listen.
The thought annoyed him.
Mostly because she would probably be right.
“She talks too much,” he said.
Anthony raised an eyebrow.
“She was trying to help you.” “I know.” “And she was effective.” Valen looked down at his arm.
“Yes.” That was the only thing he was willing to admit.
Isadora had done her job well.
She had remained calm, focused, and professional despite his attitude.
Her presence had been useful, even if her constant questions had been irritating.
Nothing more.
Anthony watched him for a moment.
“You should thank her when she returns.” Valen’s gaze hardened.
“Don’t give me orders.” “I wouldn’t dare, Master.” “Good.” Anthony left the room, leaving Valen alone.
Valen rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes.
His arm still hurt, but the pain was manageable now.
The doctor had treated the wound properly, and there was no immediate danger.
He would recover quickly.
As for Isadora, he would simply tell her that the doctor had finished the treatment.
There was no need to mention that she had been right.
And certainly no need to thank her.
At least, that was what he told himself.