Chapter 4
1155 Words
I heard her shout and felt her soft body press against my arm. Quickly, I glanced around.
We were at the edge of the jungle. Where there were wild animals, there would naturally be snakes and other predators.
Using a stick, I tapped at the underbrush around us, keeping my eyes trained on anything with unusual colors, staying alert for vipers and other venomous snakes that could blend seamlessly into their surroundings.
Perhaps startled by the tapping, whatever it was had already fled. As I scanned the area, there were no signs of any animals but grass and coconut trees swaying gently in the breeze.
I turned to Florence in my arms and said, "The snake's gone. Don't worry. You're safe now."
Hearing my reassurance, Florence hesitated as if she wanted to let go. But the memory of last night's encounter and the snake's fierce glare kept her frozen. Her fear took over, and she instinctively jumped up, wrapping her arms tightly around my neck and locking her legs around my waist. She clung to me as if her life depended on it.
Maybe it was because she came from a privileged background, where yoga and dance were part of her routine, but she didn't feel heavy at all.
Even so, I couldn't help but notice the astonishing firmness of her hips through her jeans and skirt.
Phew...
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to push aside the intrusive thoughts. Looking down at Florence, I said, "Florence, can you let go now? You're making me... a little uncomfortable."
Florence's cheeks flushed instantly at my words.
But even so, she didn't dare to release her grip. Embarrassed and frustrated, she retaliated by pinching my arm.
After a brief struggle, perhaps realizing the area was indeed safe, she gradually loosened her hold and placed her feet back on the ground.
Seeing Florence's timid demeanor, I couldn't help but recall how she had slapped me yesterday.
Deciding to tease her, I pointed at a patch of grass nearby with a terrified expression and shouted, "There's a snake!"
The moment Florence heard me, she let out a scream and began stomping her feet frantically in place, her face pale with terror.
She even shut her eyes tightly, too scared to look around.
But just then, her right foot got caught in a vine hidden in the grass. She lost her balance and fell backward into the underbrush.
Watching her flail around like that, I let out a long sigh. "The snake's already gone. Just get up."
Hearing my words, Florence finally calmed down.
She opened her eyes and looked around, confirming there was no sign of any venomous snakes.
Realizing she was safe, Florence tried to stand up and continue walking, but as soon as she put weight on her right foot, a sharp pain shot through it. She cried out instinctively, "My foot hurts! I can't stand!"
I crouched down to take a look and noticed a bluish-white mark on her foot. Her ankle joint was clearly dislocated.
Recalling what I'd learned during military training, I reassured her, "Don't worry. You just twisted your ankle. I'll reset it for you and carry you back to the tent to rest. In a few hours, you'll be able to move around again."
Probably because of everything that had happened recently, Florence didn't argue.
I gently held her right foot. Her skin was smooth and soft, like the finest silk, but I pushed that thought aside and focused on the task at hand.
After skillfully resetting her ankle, I scooped her up into my arms and carried her out of the jungle, heading back to our temporary campsite.
Once Florence was settled in the tent to rest, I went out to gather some edible wild vegetables and berries nearby.
This time, she didn't question whether the food I found might be poisonous. Instead, she quietly joined me for lunch.
After having a simple meal, Florence gazed out at the distant horizon. The endless expanse of ocean reflected in her eyes, and her expression grew pensive.
"Do you think we'll be stranded on this deserted island forever?" she murmured, almost to herself.
I smiled and shook my head. "You're the CEO of a major corporation and the heiress of the Blackwell Group. People will stop at nothing to find you. There might already be special forces or private contractors on their way. Don't worry. We won't be here for long."
When I'd been job-hunting, I'd researched the Blackwell Group's background. It was a massive conglomerate with businesses spanning luxury goods, military equipment, oil and energy, and industrial chemicals.
I'd only managed to get this job because I'd applied to the company Florence had started herself.
Getting into the Blackwell Group would depend on my future performance.
As I spoke, I noticed the dwindling supplies around us and began planning to search the beach for anything that might have washed ashore during the shipwreck.
When I shared this plan, Florence perked up. Leaning on a stick for support, she said, "My foot doesn't hurt as much anymore. Let's search for supplies together. No matter what, our priority is to survive on this island until rescue arrives."
This was the same strong-willed woman who had managed to break away from her family's conglomerate and start her own company.
Her earlier fear had only been the result of her unfamiliarity with such a harsh environment.
Having her help was, of course, a relief for me.
After a brief rest, I led Florence step by step toward the beach.
The waves lapped at our ankles, but the soft sand offered no comfort. It wasn't the relaxing feeling of a vacation—far from it.
Even the seagulls circling overhead were starting to irritate me.
Finally, after walking several hundred yards along the shore, I spotted a black box half-buried in the sand.
Florence leaned on her stick and approached it, tapping and examining the markings on its surface. She looked disappointed. "It's just a toolbox. There's no food or medical supplies."
On the other hand, I was thrilled. A toolbox meant I could create more things to help us survive.
Carrying the box, we continued searching the beach together.
Not long afterward, I noticed something being pushed toward the shore by the waves. I pointed it out to Florence. "Look over there. Is that something?"
She followed my gaze, her excitement growing. If it was clothing or food, it would be perfect!
Perhaps Poseidon had heard our prayers, because the waves seemed to work harder to push the object closer to shore.
Finally, a large wave surged, and the object was deposited on the sand.
Like children running toward Christmas presents, Florence and I dashed toward it, anticipation lighting up our faces.
But as we got closer, we both froze in our tracks. Our faces turned pale.
The object wasn't supplies. It was two corpses.
- Writer
