Jemima turned back, feeling uneasy.

"No," she replied firmly.

She felt embarrassed by her own silly fantasy.

As they exited the hospital, the man thought the woman would flag down a taxi for their ride home. However, to his surprise, she kept on walking, and he had to continue following the strange woman.

"Where are we going?" the man asked again, starting to tire.

Jemima pointed to something in the distance ahead.

"Bus stop?"

Jemima nodded with a flat expression. "Let's consider this as exercise," she said.

"Wait a minute? What's with her? Aren't the jobs of homeless people to move around and walk endlessly?" Jemima murmured softly, not intending to be sarcastic. Of course, her question couldn't be heard by the man as she was speaking to herself.

They finally arrived at the bus stop. The man followed Jemima and took a seat. On a winter afternoon like this, there was not a single passenger waiting for any buses, except for the unemployed.

The blue bus with 'Springbrook Street' written on it stopped in front of them. Jemima stood up and boarded the bus, followed by the man. They sat side by side, and the man, who rarely spoke, chose to cover his head and pretend to be asleep.

Similarly, Jemima's mind was in disarray. Her life was already chaotic, and now she was bringing a stranger home. But as she thought negatively, she came to her senses. If it weren't for this homeless man...she might have been kidnapped and abused by Ian and his two friends.

"Hey, let's get off!" Jemima called out, slightly pulling the man's clothing.

The man, who had been pretending to sleep, immediately woke up. "Are we here already?" he asked as he looked around.

"Hmph!" Jemima's lazy response was heard.

The man seemed to just follow wherever the girl led him; after all, he didn't have a single penny to continue his plans at the moment.

From the bus stop where they disembarked, they had to walk through an alley to reach the girl's home. For some reason, the man was very curious about just how poor this girl he had helped was.

"Still far?" the man asked flatly, trying to break the silence.

"No, just one more alley," Jemima pointed in the direction they were headed.

After a while, they arrived at an apartment complex. They still had to climb many stairs because it turned out the girl's residence was on the top floor.

"A secluded home, so why go through the trouble of living on the top balcony?" the man asked softly, meaning to talk to himself.

"The uppermost is the cheapest," Jemima unintentionally overheard.

The man looked surprised by Jemima's answer.

Jemima glanced briefly, smiling gently, "For someone comfortable living on the streets like you, it seems you lack insight into how expensive renting a home in a big city can be," she said, half teasingly.

The man simply nodded; it would be impolite and possibly get him kicked out if he continued to comment like before.

"We're here, feel free to come in," Jemima said, gesturing with her hand, inviting her guest to enter first.

The man stepped inside, looking around in surprise as soon as he was in the room.

‘Is this a living space or a bird's nest?’ he thought as he surveyed the surroundings.

"Please have a seat, I'll make you a drink," Jemima said.

The man responded with a puzzled nod. In the room, there was a long couch with a table in front of it, and behind the couch was a small kitchen separated only by a narrow dining table, resembling a minimalist dining table. In front of the couch and the small kitchen, there was a typical princess-like bed with a pastel pink canopy, a soft-looking mattress and pillows that seemed very comfortable for sleeping.

"This room is quite interesting," thought the man as he nodded in approval.

Observing her guest's actions, Jemima only smiled occasionally.

"Isn't my place very comfortable?" Jemima asked from behind.

‘Comfortable? What's comfortable about this? This room is truly unacceptable for human habitation.’ The man nodded, his behavior contrasting with the thoughts in his head.

"Here, please have this drink," Jemima said, offering the freshly made orange drink.

The man nodded again, occasionally running his hand over the couch he was sitting on.

"Well, what did I say... comfortable, right? Better than living on the streets?" Jemima asked again.

‘Ah, it's difficult to respond to someone so overconfident.’ The man shook his head, his expression met with a smile from Jemima, who believed that he was very impressed with the house.

"Go on and drink, stay healthy. Remember, your body needs nutrition," Jemima said again, furrowing her brow and looking at the drink in front of her.

The man nodded in response, giving a faint smile. It was unclear what that smile meant to him, but to Jemima, it was interpreted as an admiring smile directed at her.

‘Hmph! A man who spent his remaining days on the streets wouldn't understand the concept of comfort.’ Thought Jemima as she stood up from her seat.

"Oh, by the way, I have to go to work this afternoon. You can rest and stay in this house until you recover," Jemima said.

"Work? Aren't you injured?" the man asked, looking surprised.

Jemima waved her hand dismissively, "It didn't injure my organs. It's just a minor wound," she replied.

The man couldn't say anything upon hearing the girl's response; it seemed this girl was very hardworking and not easily defeated. Despite having experienced a life-threatening tragedy last night, he felt embarrassed because as a man, he realized his thoughts were shallow and weak.

"Oh, by the way, are you hungry? Let me prepare lunch first. Is there anything you can't eat?" she continued to ask.

‘Certainly not,’ thought the man, but he didn't dare to directly respond with such an inappropriate statement.

"How about this?" Jemima asked, shaking something in her hand, sounding like wrapped food.

The man turned to look, ‘what is that?’ he thought as he saw two parcels in Jemima's hand.