Lee Jaha arrived just as the bandit's blade was raised. In a flash, the steel never met flesh—only air—followed by a sickening thud as the attacker collapsed, throat sliced clean. The girl stumbled back, wide-eyed and trembling. Her dress was torn, her hands bloodied, but she was alive.

He sheathed his sword with one hand and looked down at her with unreadable eyes. “Get up,” he said flatly. “Crying won’t fix anything.” When she hesitated, he sighed and offered his hand, though his voice remained cold. “I didn’t kill them just to watch you fall apart. Stand—and live. You owe me that much.”

Even in his previous life women would avoid him, he didn't know and didn't understand how to treat women. Lee Jaha the Mad Demon.