In 1997, an unexpected storm swept through Laya Town.
The night was dark and the winds fierce. Every household in this small town on the outskirts of the Minbo Republic had shut its doors tight as violent hurricane winds rampaged through the streets.
It was late at night, and the storm had snapped utility poles, plunging the entire town into a blackout.
Charlotte Day and her father, Ian Day, were putting away the tables and chairs.
Bang!
The sound of the front door being forced open rang out.
Thinking it was the wind, Ian instinctively looked toward the doorway-there was suddenly a man lying on the floor, seemingly unconscious.
He had wounds almost everywhere, and his tattered clothes were soaked with rainwater. Tall and well built, with handsome features, he looked barely into his twenties.
Ian had no time to be shocked. He rushed over in a few long strides, dragged the man inside, and shut the door again.
After examining the man's wounds, Ian, who had once served as a battlefield doctor, said:
"Charlotte, go get some cloth to stop the bleeding, and bandages!"
"Oh, okay!"
Charlotte hurriedly answered, then turned and rushed into the restaurant's back room to fetch the first-aid kit.
Father and daughter set to work tending to the stranger.
A kerosene lamp sat on the table, its dim yellow glow quietly pushing back the darkness.