Zinnia hadn’t expected Yuri to be so blunt. The smile on her face froze, awkwardness creeping over her features. For a moment, she didn’t even know how to respond.
Thankfully, Yuri didn’t press the issue. He shifted the conversation almost immediately.
“This war between Selvoria and Lorialand should be wrapping up soon. It’s the local armed factions that are still tearing each other apart.”
He glanced at Zinnia. “How long are you planning to stay?”
Zinnia’s gaze drifted toward the patients resting under canvas tents in the distance. “I’ll leave when headquarters gives the order. Until then, I stay.”
Yuri followed her gaze, watching the makeshift recovery area. Finally, he nodded. “It’ll be over soon.”
Most of Selvoria’s major militias had already been crushed by the government forces. Only two groups were still fighting for territory.
The worst of them, led by Morton, were notorious for their brutality. They didn’t care about right or wrong—countless civilians had died at their hands.
Their atrocities had drawn international outrage and condemnation, but it did little to stop their rampage. More and more civilians flooded into the medical camps, and Zinnia and the rest of the aid doctors found themselves working nonstop, barely able to catch their breath.
That night, the frightened and exhausted civilians finally drifted into a fitful sleep. Meanwhile, under cover of darkness, a camouflage-painted SUV quietly slipped out of the protected zone.
An hour later, the vehicle rolled up the winding drive to a grand Baroque mansion. The gates swung open, and a bearded man in a pristine white robe spread his arms in greeting as Yuri stepped out.
“Mr. Ford, an honor to finally meet you.” The man’s English was clumsy, heavy with an unfamiliar accent.
Yuri nodded coolly. He was flanked by a group of burly men in black suits—bodyguards, tense and alert, as if expecting trouble.


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