"Let's get out first!"
"Hey, wait..." Persephone pointed to the other side.
In moments of life and death, it wasn't appropriate to laugh, but Morpheus still chuckled. The young Prince Christopher was sprawled on the floor in a very ridiculous pose, and they almost forgot about him!
"Don't worry," Morpheus whispered. "I won't let anything happen to him."
He had Persephone cling to his back and then carried Christopher.
Christopher was a tall fellow, so it took some effort to carry them both to a safe place.
Fire trucks, ambulances, and police cars rushed in. Their sirens pierced the sky, startling a flock of birds.
The fire was soon extinguished, and Persephone and Christopher received timely treatment. Luckily, their burns weren't too severe, and even more fortunately, their faces were unharmed.
When Christopher woke up, he felt bandages wrapped around his head, and his skin had a burning sensation. His heart sank, and he was almost on the verge of tears.
"Tell me the truth! Am I disfigured?!"
The nurses nearby didn't speak but suppressed their laughter.
"Oh no! Ahhh!"
Christopher was in despair, about to cry his heart out, mourning his lost handsome face, when someone opened the ward door.
Doctors and nurses bowed and greeted the newcomers, "General Orton, Ms. Hamerton!"
"You guys go out first." Morpheus smiled. "I'll talk to His Highness."
The doctors and nurses exited, and Christopher covered his face, adamantly refusing others to look at him.
Persephone laughed as she brought a mirror over, and though Morpheus tried to persuade him gently, he remained engulfed in sorrow.
"Christopher!" Morpheus' tone shifted from gentle to authoritative.
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