Chapter 6

Mira's POV

I froze for a moment, not expecting him to ask me such a question.

He was deeply insecure.

"I'll wait for you to wake up."

As if receiving the answer he wanted, he finally relaxed his body, his breathing gradually becoming even, his chest rising and falling steadily.

He had fallen asleep—I could feel it.

I couldn't help but soften my own breathing, worried I might disturb him.

Sleep disorder patients generally had light sleep and couldn't tolerate disturbances. Now that he'd finally fallen asleep, I should let him rest a while longer.

I leaned back on the sofa, gazing at his handsome face, then typed into my phone's notes app.

[Fell asleep within 5 minutes during lunch break nap, indicating high accumulated fatigue levels, signs of chronic sleep deprivation, suspected lack of security.]

Draven slept for a full hour before opening his eyes.

I could see his long lashes trembling, like a butterfly fluttering its wings.

Draven's appearance was truly superior—deep-set features, an excellent physique, and lashes so long that few could compare.

"You're awake?"

I looked at him. I could sense that he'd slept well during this hour. Smiling gently, I asked, "How do you feel?"

Draven had just woken and still seemed somewhat dazed. He propped himself up to sit on the bed, and at some point, two buttons on his chest had come undone, revealing his delicate collarbones and firm chest muscles.

The sight made me somewhat shy, involuntarily averting my gaze, yet I couldn't help being drawn back.

"It seems... I haven't slept this well in a long time. I didn't even dream."

His voice carried a trace of a sigh, making me feel somewhat heartbroken.

Insomnia was painful—I knew that feeling well.

"Did you often dream before? What did you dream about?"

I tried to keep my voice gentle as I communicated with him. Insomnia was often accompanied by vivid dreams—this was a normal phenomenon.

The content of dreams could also reflect many of a patient's issues: their anxieties, and their inner fears.

"I would dream of a person, a woman."

Draven looked at me seriously. I could sense some shift in his emotions, so I didn't press further.

Having finally gotten good sleep, I couldn't stimulate him further. These questions could be asked slowly later.

"The scent on you—what is it?"

My mind hadn't caught up yet. I was somewhat confused. "What scent?"

"When you fell in the stairwell earlier, I smelled it. Just now, I fell asleep breathing in that scent."

I thought carefully for a moment. "Is it the scent of my hand cream? Orange fragrance, or maybe it's my laundry detergent. I'll get you some later."

"No, it's not that."

Draven shook his head. "It's your scent—it helps me sleep very well."

I caught the key words. "You're saying the scent on me can improve your sleep?"

Draven didn't deny it. The way he looked at me was very direct—perhaps too direct, too honest.

"I haven't slept this well in a very long time. This one hour was better than an entire night's sleep before."

His voice carried a light, shallow sense of relief, as if for him, getting one hour of good sleep was an extremely luxurious thing.

I chose my words carefully. "What do you think the reason is? My breathing rhythm, heartbeat frequency, or something else?"

"The scent."

Draven said with certainty, "You have a very clean scent. It's not perfume, not laundry detergent—it's a scent unique to you. I can smell it when you're close to me."

I understood why he insisted I accompany him to sleep. It wasn't that he was afraid—it was that the scent on me could calm him.

"Would you be willing to convert to permanent employment early? I can give you double the salary."

Draven's tone was somewhat urgent. He looked at me seriously, as if he wanted to sign a contract with me the very next second.

I felt my brain had stopped working. This was simply an incredible stroke of luck falling into my lap.

Could someone as unlucky as me actually have such a fortunate moment?

"Of course I'm willing. Thank you so much."

No one would refuse such a job. The original salary was already generous—double that, and if I worked hard for a while, I might even be able to buy my own house.

"However... wouldn't this be too hasty? Don't you need to learn more about me? After all, I haven't even drafted a treatment plan yet."

"The treatment plan isn't important. What's important is you..."

My heart skipped a beat.

"...your scent."

I patted my chest.

That was close, that was close. Someone who didn't know better might think he was confessing to me.

The atmosphere felt a bit tense now. I laughed exaggeratedly. "Don't call me Mira anymore—just call me sleeping pill."

Draven pulled out a contract from his drawer, signed his name cleanly and decisively, then pushed it in front of me.

He said, "Sleeping pills lose their effectiveness, but you won't."

He spoke with such certainty that I was momentarily burned by the light in his eyes, a feeling I couldn't quite describe stirring in my heart.

Sigh, having a boss who's too handsome is also a kind of trouble. I was starting to worry I might fall in love with him.

After signing the contract, the weight in my heart finally settled. Throughout the entire day, I conscientiously followed him, observing Draven's work.

Perhaps because he'd gotten good sleep at noon, he was exceptionally energetic in the afternoon, even treating his subordinates with much better attitude.

Employees who came in to report work would occasionally cast curious glances at him, but no one asked questions.

"Mira, you can go rest in the lounge first."

"It's fine, I can stay here."

I smiled at him, but he insisted, "Please go in first. I'll call you when it's time to leave."

Seeing his insistence, I could only nod, entered the lounge, opened my laptop, and began working on the treatment plan.

I researched and drafted the plan simultaneously. In the lounge with only the lamp on and the curtains drawn tight, I seemed to lose my sense of time.

My phone rang, startling me. I'd been too absorbed in the plan.

"Mira Thorne, when exactly do you plan to pay rent?"

A sharp, rapid voice came from the other end. "Your rent is overdue. If you don't pay soon, don't blame me for throwing your luggage out!"

"Isn't there still three days? Can you give me a few more days? I... just found a job and haven't received my salary yet."

My heart panicked—I didn't have the money for rent right now.

The landlord's voice rose half an octave, sounding harsh and mean. "Do you think I run a charity? If you don't pay rent soon, I'll charge you late fees!"

"I... I'll transfer it right away."

I hung up the phone as if fleeing, my expression somewhat desperate.

Would I have to sleep on the streets these next few days?

I bit my lower lip, about to call Annie to borrow some money, when Draven appeared before me.

"Do you need money urgently?"

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