It's already the third day, but Sophie Smith still shows no sign of waking up.
Asher Land sits by the bedside, tightly holding her slender little hand. These three days have taken a toll on him.
His jaw is covered with a short stubble, and his usually sharp, eagle-like dark eyes have sunken considerably. The shirt he is wearing is still the same one he wore three days ago, now with some wrinkles.
This disheveled appearance is probably the first time in his 27 years of life.
Even before he became the third young master of the Golden Era Consortium, when he was still crammed in a small rented room with his mother, he was never this disheveled.
The hospital room is unusually quiet, as if even the sound of the IV drip is clearly audible.
Nanny Garcia brought some food, standing at the door, hesitant to speak.
"Get out!" he ordered mercilessly; he does not want anyone disturbing her right now.
"Young Master, you should eat a little, or when Miss Smith wakes up, you..."
