III.

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Namjoon's POV


In my twenty years of existence, I never felt needed. Thought, I admit I have potential when it comes to leadership and music.


But I sucked at it with smartasses who don't appreciate my efforts.


I let out a breath, squeezing the damp towel dry and placing it on the stranger's head to warm her up.


I have learned that her name is Mayu. That doesn't sound Korean to me so I assumed she was Japanese. Maybe she was a tourist who got lost and thieves has stolen her things so she was placed in a dumpster to let her die.


What a great mind to think of all those scenarios.


I shook my head, still wiping her forehead. The color of her face soon turned warm, her cheeks giving off a rosy pink color.


She was pretty, no excuses.


But I don't want to be in any type of commitment just yet.


I looked away and stood up to check the food I was cooking for her when she wakes up. It was a good thing that I successfully followed the instructions on the quick-and-easy crab and corn soup.


I could have burned the whole kitchen down.

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