As she walked back to her room, Sienna checked her harvest. Her face lit up at the numbers.
603 (+100)!
The +100 from completing the mission. If her guess was right, the woman was probably awake by now.
And she guessed correctly.
The receptionist was chewing on the piece of bread so slowly. It was clear she was in pain, but she didn't seem to have any plan of putting it down—until the door creaked open, and her hand instinctively dropped to her lap, eyeing the newcomer.
Sienna's steps slowed as she sat on the couch, also observing her. The woman's face was blotchy and uneven, giving her a frightening appearance.
Her eyes—bright silver, framed by lashes of the same shade—fluttered. She met Sienna's gaze and asked softly, "You are my savior?"
"Yeah." Sienna crossed her legs. "How do you feel now?"
The woman mustered a smile. "I feel pretty good. Thanks for saving me."
"You're welcome."
