Dragon Major General

Chapter 5

It had been almost a week since Mendel had taken Jasmine away, and yet, strangely, her family had made no effort to find her. It was a mix of relief and frustration in the household. Some family members were quietly pleased that she had escaped Macron’s cruelty, grateful that she was no longer in immediate danger. Others, however, could barely hide their anger, worrying over what Macron might do next, their minds spinning with worst-case scenarios.

“What do you think Macron would do?” Mr. Maxwell, Jasmine’s father, asked, leaning back in his chair, his voice tight with unease. “I mean, he must be furious. He was humiliated after what happened.”

Elena, Jasmine’s mother, scoffed sharply, her eyes flashing with indignation. “Is that what worries you? He was going to hand our daughter over to beggars, and we could do nothing. And you… you are the head of this family, and yet you couldn’t even stand up for her. What a pity!”

Mr. Maxwell’s frown deepened. “What’s the use? She can’t walk properly, and with that scar… who would want to marry her? Sometimes I wonder why she didn’t let Macron have his way. And the man she was with before—he left her after seeing her condition.”

“So, father… are you saying it would have been better if she had married the beggars Macron wanted her to?” Kelvin, her brother, yelled, his voice sharp with disbelief.

Mr. Maxwell slammed his hand on the table. “Don’t raise your voice at me! We should be thinking about what to do when Macron strikes next!” His frown deepened as he spoke, worry and frustration etched into every line of his face.

---

At the Major General’s Villa, three days had passed without incident. No Macron, no men in dark suits, no sign of her family. For Jasmine, the quiet was unfamiliar, almost surreal. For the first time in years, she felt a measure of peace. The herbs had started working on her legs, her body felt lighter with each passing day, and the tension that had followed her since that fateful night seemed to loosen just a little.

“How are you feeling?” Mendel asked, entering the room quietly and taking a seat beside her.

Jasmine gave a small, wry smile. “Hmm… I’m great. Though… you haven’t visited me for a while. I’ve been alone in my room, thinking… well, a lot.”

Mendel’s expression softened. “I’m sorry. I had matters to attend to. Some things required my attention.”

“You must be… really powerful,” Jasmine said quietly, her eyes meeting his with curiosity.

Mendel laughed softly. “Why do you say that?”

“Macron isn’t the type to give up,” Jasmine said, leaning back slightly, still smiling but with a trace of worry. “After everything that happened, he would want revenge—and fast. But he hasn’t come here. Not even once. I’m surprised.”

Mendel reached out and placed a hand lightly over hers, reassuring. “I told you, I am a Major General. You are safe here with me. You don’t have to worry about him—or anyone else. Not while I’m around.”

Jasmine’s voice trembled, thick with emotion as she spoke, “Thank you for helping me. I really didn’t know what my fate would be… I was a lame girl with a scar on my face, deeply in debt to that psycho… I don’t even know what would have happened if you hadn’t saved me. Thank you… truly.”

Mendel gave her a small, reassuring smile, his eyes calm but bright with satisfaction. “It’s time to remove your bandages,” he said softly, knowing fully well that she was ready.

Carefully, he unwrapped each bandage, revealing her legs and face, pristine and healed. When he handed her the mirror, Jasmine could barely believe what she saw. Her scars were almost invisible, erased by the healing herbs and the careful work that Mendel and his team had done. Her reflection stared back at her, a face so familiar yet new, whole again. Tears welled in her eyes, running freely down her cheeks.

“Stand up. You can walk now,” Mendel said gently, his hand offering support.

“Are you sure?” Jasmine stammered, doubt and disbelief threading through her voice.

“Trust me,” Mendel replied firmly.

With his help, she rose from the wheelchair, her legs steady, her movements confident. She took a tentative step—and another. Soon, she was walking as she used to before her life had been stolen from her. She paused mid-step, unable to speak, overwhelmed by the reality of being whole again.

“Thank you so much! Oh… oh my goodness! I don’t even know how to say it!” Jasmine cried, rushing forward to hug him tightly. “Thank you… thank you so much!”

Mendel held her, letting her rejoice in the moment. He knew she wasn’t aware of the full extent of what she had done for him years ago. Perhaps she had forgotten entirely, but he had not. He remembered—the day she had given him bread, water, and hope, saving him when no one else would. He had always carried that memory, and now seeing her happy, free, and whole, he felt a quiet satisfaction. She had endured pain with courage, yet she had also given him a chance at life. She deserved every bit of this happiness—and more.

Jasmine, still staring into the mirror, could not stop marveling at her reflection. Her face, her legs, her strength—all restored. She was no longer a crippled girl; she was whole again. But amid the joy, a thought stirred in her mind. How could she repay him for what he had done? She had no idea where to begin.

Then, her mind flashed back to the night they had met—the party where Macron had tried to humiliate her, forcing a marriage she never wanted. A memory of fear, of helplessness, and of the moment Mendel had appeared like a shadow in the chaos, saving her when no one else could.

Her eyes lit up with determination, a spark of resolve forming in her chest. She turned to Mendel, a wide, confident smile on her face, her voice firm and clear.

“Let’s get married!” she declared.

Mendel blinked, still trying to process Jasmine’s words. “What do you mean?” he asked again, his voice calm but curious.

“At the party, Macron wanted to choose a groom for me. He wanted to decide my entire fate,” Jasmine said, her tone steady, “but you saved me. You healed me. And now… I want us to get married.”

Mendel didn’t object, didn’t hesitate. There was no need for words. The girl who had saved him from death years ago—the one who had shown kindness when no one else did—was now offering herself to be by his side for life. The idea was incredible, almost surreal, but he accepted it without a second thought.

“Let’s do that,” Mendel said, a faint, warm smile spreading across his face. “Let’s get married.”

“Yes!” Jasmine exclaimed, her joy bubbling over.

“I’ll tell my assistant to arrange the date for our marriage registration,” Mendel added calmly.

“That would be amazing…” Jasmine replied, her smile soft but radiant.

---

A few weeks later, their marriage was officially registered, and Jasmine insisted on introducing Mendel to her family at their villa. The morning of the visit, both woke early, dressed carefully, and set out together. The drive was quiet at first, each lost in thought, until Mendel broke the silence.

“So… why do you fear the so-called five great families so much?” he asked, glancing at her.

Jasmine laughed softly, a hint of disbelief in her tone. “It seems like you’re new to this country, aren’t you?”

“Let’s say I am,” Mendel replied, keeping his voice neutral.

“They hold power, wealth, influence, and control,” Jasmine explained simply. “They decide who succeeds and who fails. Even the law bends for them. Crossing them is… dangerous.”

“I see,” Mendel said, his gaze sharp but thoughtful.

“We’re here,” Jasmine said, pointing to the villa as the car slowed to a stop. Mendel opened her door, and she stepped out, feeling the firm ground beneath her feet—walking again—and smiled, a mix of freedom and pride in that small movement.

She knocked on the door, and immediately, her mother appeared. Elena gasped loudly, eyes wide in shock, and instinctively pulled Jasmine into her arms. “Oh, Jasmine! I was so worried about you! Look at you… how you’ve changed!”

Jasmine gently signaled Mendel to enter as well. Together, they walked into the family home, and the dining room was filled with astonishment. Every family member stared in disbelief. Murmurs filled the air, like a scene straight out of a drama.

“What’s going on here?” Mr. Maxwell, Jasmine’s father, exclaimed, his surprise evident in his tone.

“Dad! This—this is…” Jasmine started, her voice hesitant.

“Do you know what you’ve caused us?” Mr. Maxwell interrupted, his voice sharp, a mix of anger and awe as he struggled to comprehend the sight of his daughter, healed, confident, and accompanied by Mendel.

The room was tense, charged with shock and disbelief. Jasmine’s family stared at her, some in awe of her recovery, others in anger at her audacity. To see her back on her feet should have been a moment of joy, but for many, it only stirred fear and resentment.

“Jasmine, you dare disobey Macron?!” one of her cousins snapped, her voice sharp with outrage. “Even knowing how indebted we are to him!”

“Not to mention some of us still work for him,” her uncle added, his face twisted with worry. “Do you think he would want to see any of us if you’ve gone behind his back?”

“Do you really think running away from him was the best option?” another family member chimed in, their tone accusing.

Jasmine felt a wave of disbelief wash over her. She had returned healthy, healed, and alive, yet instead of being celebrated, she was being scolded, threatened, and shamed. Her heart ached—not from the past pain, but from the cold, fearful faces of those she once called family.

“Will you take charge if their family comes after us?” Catherine, her older cousin, demanded. “We will all be buried with you if they strike!”

“Catherine… I…” Jasmine stammered, her voice trembling as tears threatened to spill.

“Do you think you can appease their anger?” her aunt interjected sharply. “You will get all of us killed!”

Jasmine’s hands trembled, her vision blurring as she looked toward Mendel. His calm, steady presence was a stark contrast to the chaos around her. Her eyes, watery and pleading, met his.

“Enough!” Mendel’s voice cut through the room like thunder, silencing every voice in an instant. His expression was fierce, protective, and unyielding. “Enough! She is the one who suffered, not you! I will not stand by while she is blamed for the cruelty of others.”

The room went silent, the weight of his authority pressing down on every family member. Mendel stepped forward, his eyes fixed on Jasmine with unwavering focus. “I will solve this problem by tomorrow,” he declared, his voice calm but resolute. “You will have nothing to fear while I am here.”

Jasmine wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole. Her chest tightened with embarrassment, frustration, and sorrow. Her family wasn’t appreciating Mendel at all—here was the man who had risked everything, who had saved her life, healed her injuries, and restored her hope—and yet they were scolding him, questioning his presence, and trembling at the mere thought of the five great families. Their fear was cheap, shallow, and maddening.

“Mendel… please, give me a minute to talk to them,” Jasmine whispered, her voice trembling.

He squeezed her hand gently. “It’s fine,” he said quietly, calm and steady, as always.

Her father’s voice then erupted like thunder, cutting through the room. “What an eyesore! Do you even know what you have done?! Yet you cling to him! Did you have any idea what Macron’s family is planning right now?!”

Mendel’s jaw tightened, and his eyes darkened. “I did not appreciate the fact that you are shouting at my wife that way,” he said, his voice controlled but heavy with anger. Every word was deliberate; he was restraining himself, but every second he stayed in the room with Jasmine being insulted pushed him closer to snapping.

“And who the hell are you?! You have no idea what your useless appearance in my daughter’s life has cost us!” her father shouted again, red-faced with fury.

“Father!” Jasmine swallowed hard, fear and courage warring inside her. Her voice shook as she spoke, but the strength in her gaze was unwavering. “This is the man who saved me from Macron. He healed my wounds. And yes… I am going to marry him.”

The fear that had gripped her melted away when her eyes met Mendel’s. In his calm, resolute gaze, she found protection and certainty, and it steadied her trembling heart.

“What do you plan on doing to take care of this?” her mother asked, worry lacing her tone.

Kelvin, her cousin, leaned forward, his voice nervous but excited. “The whole situation is jeopardized. It’s a big mess in Macron’s household. His father and everyone know that he was disgraced at a party… by a commoner. And we… we are that commoner.”

Jasmine’s tears welled up, a mixture of pain, relief, and indignation. She looked at her family, her voice cracking but firm. “Would you have preferred that he married me off to some beggar… or a man in the street?”

One of her relatives huffed, unable to hide their disbelief. “You looked nothing but a cripple back then…”

Jasmine’s tears fell freely now, hot and unrestrained, each one carrying the weight of every humiliation, every insult, and every moment she had felt powerless. “Yes, I was broken then. But he didn’t see me as broken. He saw me as a person worth saving. And that… that is more than any of you have ever done!”

Mendel’s patience snapped. “Enough already! Enough with all this nonsense!” he barked, his voice echoing through the dining room. He had endured their fear, their lectures, their petty scolding, all in the name of keeping Jasmine safe, but now their cowardice and arrogance were too much. He turned his gaze toward Jasmine’s father, meeting the man’s eyes with a sharp, unflinching stare. He could see the belittlement, the arrogance, the way the man thought he could intimidate him.

“Grey!” Mendel called, summoning his assistant with a single sharp word.

Jasmine, sensing the tension, stepped forward. Her voice was quiet, apologetic, but firm. “I’m sorry about my father’s behavior… He’s… he’s covered himself in the shadows of the Great Five, and somewhere along the way, he’s lost his sanity. I am deeply sorry.”

Mendel softened slightly and looked at her. “What do you think we can do to make your father loosen up a little?” he asked, his tone measured.

Jasmine sighed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Obviously, he’s scared. Afraid of losing his remaining shares in the company. The Macrons control the market right now, and Macron is single-handedly manipulating the stocks. My father owns only two percent, and he’s terrified of losing it.”

Mendel’s expression darkened, disappointment etched into his features. “Two percent… just two percent, and that’s why he allowed them to shake him so… tremble before the Macrons?”

Jasmine nodded, her eyes downcast. “Yes… and that’s why they all act so cowardly, why they treat everyone else like they’re beneath them. But what we should care about is how to solve the issues with Macron himself.”

Mendel didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he called out again, “Grey!”

His assistant approached cautiously, sensing the shift in Mendel’s demeanor. “Sir… we could leave. Her family clearly doesn’t want us here. Your father… he won’t stop talking about his shares, and neither will they.”

Mendel’s lips tightened into a line, his jaw firm. “It’s because he knows what the Great Five can do when their heads are together,” Jasmine murmured, almost to herself, her tone heavy with worry.

Mendel’s eyes flicked toward her, then back to her family. “That may be true,” he said slowly, “but fear does not dictate our actions. Grey… it’s time we show them exactly why we are not to be underestimated.”