"You… you're willing to help me??"
A flash of disbelief crossed Tydamir's eyes.
He stared at Caelan, couldn't hold back, and blurted out,
"Are you serious? Don't tell me you don't like Alyssa??"
Caelan froze for a beat, then smiled and shook his head.
Yeah, right.
Sure, Alyssa was pretty—but the problem was, she looked way too much like his lazy cousin.
The reminds-me-of-trauma kind of cousin: sprawled on the couch binge-watching dramas, ordering him around like a servant. The moment that image popped into his mind, Caelan felt his goodwill toward that kind of face evaporate on the spot.
"I don't like Alyssa. We're just friends. That's all."
Seeing Caelan didn't seem to be lying, Tydamir's eyes lit up instantly.
In that split second, it was like he'd gone from hell straight to heaven.
The next moment, without another word, he dropped to his knees with a loud thump.
"Caelan, please—help me!"
Caelan jolted and quickly hauled him back up.
