The Imposter Bride (Natalia and Magnus)
Chapter 405

So it went, the island's doctor came by daily to inject Hector with a novel synthetic toxin, and, incredibly, Hector's complexion began to improve day by day, slowly regaining the hue of the living.

As the days turned into over a month, Hector, who had been steeped in a deep coma, finally opened his eyes. He looked around in confusion, replaceing himself in an utterly unfamiliar place. His mind was as blank as an untouched canvas. This realization sent waves of fear crashing through Hector. Panicked, he turned to the man in the white coat and asked, "Who am I? Where is this place?"

The doctor didn't answer. Instead, he took a syringe and pressed its sharp needle into Hector's arm, continuing with the injections.

Dizziness swamped Hector's mind, leaving him too weak to resist the doctor's actions. Then, he noticed that with each push of the medication, he was slowly regaining his strength.

"You're awake? Oh my goodness, this is just fantastic!" Helen rushed in as soon as she heard the news of Hector's awakening.

Her voice was sweet and delicate, and something about it felt reassuring to Hector, resonating with a voice buried deep within his own heart.

Looking at the unfamiliar Helen, Hector asked, "Where am I? Who are you? And who am I?"

Helen gazed at Hector with a look of intoxication. His bright eyes were confirming to her that she had indeed stumbled upon a treasure. Clapping her hands joyfully, she approached Hector and said, "This is a private island, my family's. Every blade of grass, and every tree belongs to us, and that includes you. I'm Helen, the island owner's daughter, and you... you're my manservant, John."

Since Helen had found Hector washed up on the shore and didn't know his real name, she casually bestowed upon him the new name, John. The doctor had previously told her that the synthetic toxin would erase all past memories of the injected person. For Helen, wanting a devoted manservant without a past was a stroke of luck.

"John? Is that my name?" Hector asked doubtfully, feeling deep down that the girl's words were not the truth.

Helen nodded firmly. "Yes, you are a manservant my daddy bought for me. If it weren't for him, you'd be dead by now. Now, you must cooperate with the treatment so that you can recover swiftly and then be able to protect me better."

"Is that so?" Hector questioned as he glanced at his emaciated arm. "Do I really have the strength to protect you?"

Helen wasn't worried at all. "Don't fret. Even if you have forgotten any combat skills from before, my daddy can quickly train you into a top-notch assassin."

This was a complete fabrication on Helen's part, as she had no idea whether Hector knew how to fight. However, turning Hector into an assassin was indeed a simple task for her father, who had the means to do so.

Hearing Helen's words, Hector was skeptical. Yet, her voice brought him an inexplicable sense of peace, and he tentatively accepted her version of events, beginning to cooperate with the doctor's examinations.

Hector's recovery was rapid. In just a month, he had completed his convalescence, and his body was restored to the vigor of an ordinary person.

Jackson, who had been closely monitoring Hector, noted his daughter's desire to have this man as her personal protector. If Helen wanted this stranger to be her manservant, then he would ensure Hector became strong enough to fulfill that role.

After his recovery, Hector became quite detached. His gaze was icy and ruthless; he never spoke to anyone except for Helen. When idle, he liked to sit atop the highest rock on the island, silently watching the ebb and flow of the tide, lost in thoughts he didn't understand, and content to gaze at the water without another care in the world.

"John, come with me."

Jackson stood on the towering rock and called out Hector's new name with a stern voice. Since Helen wanted this man they had plucked from the sea to be her manservant, Jackson knew he had to make him stronger. So, early that morning, Jackson had set out to replace Hector and, as expected, found him near the seaside rocks.

To be honest, Jackson didn't like this man they had taken in; his eyes seemed too cold. As a man who wielded power in the underworld, Jackson had seen colder gazes than the one in this man's eyes, whom his daughter had whimsically named John. But something about John's emptiness, a void that seemed devoid of a soul, unnerved Jackson the most.

Yet, it was precisely this type of person who could become a top-tier assassin.

Hearing Jackson's call, Hector simply glanced back coldly and then turned away, resuming his contemplation of the rolling sea, without even a grunt in response.

Jackson's face darkened as he commanded, "John! I told you to come here!"

Hector gave Jackson another cold look before slowly getting to his feet and sauntering over. He didn't like anyone here; they all reeked of bloodshed. Except for Helen-her voice carried a familiarity that soothed him.

Seeing Hector unafraid to meet his gaze, Jackson felt a grudging respect.

Cold enough. Ruthless enough. Those were the makings of a premier assassin.

"John, in order to ensure you can protect Helen effectively, I need to train you properly. Do you have anything to say about that?" For the first time, Jackson asked someone for their opinion, a stark contrast to his usual direct orders.

Hector looked at Jackson expressionlessly, then turned back to the sea without a word.

Taking his silence as consent, Jackson said, "Alright, follow me."

Hector followed Jackson to an abandoned shipping container.

Jackson gestured toward it. "Go inside. Whether you can make it out or not is up to you."

Without question or hesitation, Hector stepped into the container. Inside the dingy, run-down space stood four muscular men. Their eyes were predatory as they fixed their gaze on Hector. In their eyes, Hector was nothing more than prey, to be hunted and slaughtered at will.

"Only one of you five will make it out alive! Begin!"

"Clang!"

One of the four others tossed a dagger, and it hit the ground with a crisp sound.

The dagger gleamed coldly, its shine stark against the bloodstained interior of the shipping container.

Hector slowly bent down and picked up the dagger, fully aware that his life hung in the balance. It was do or die-either walk out alive or be tossed out as another lifeless body.

The sounds of brutal combat echoed inside the container, but Jackson, who stood outside, didn't even flinch. Nobody was born a master; all fighting skills were honed from the most brutal combat, learning from experience drawn from the edge of life and death.