The moment Kurt spoke, the big, strapping young man became the focus of everyone's attention.
This idiot, Nick sighed inwardly.
Under ordinary circumstances, escorting a lady home could be considered a gentlemanly act with a certain romantic flair.
Once upon a time, in Europe and the United States, pulling out a chair for a lady at the dining table or opening a car door for her was considered gentlemanly, while in Eastern countries, helping an elderly person who had fallen, stopping an unruly child running around in the road, and even donating blood voluntarily were likewise regarded as virtues.
But by the time Nick transmigrated, certain rosy illusions about the Western world had shattered, while some of the good things in the Eastern world had likewise vanished. Ideologies such as gender antagonism and sophisticated self-interest had affected practically everyone, fueled by the machinery of public opinion.
"Carol's" words just now had carried a hint of moral coercion, but in a small town of only one or two thousand people, where everyone was bound to run into one another whenever they went out, a mother worried about her two children's safety could hardly be blamed for asking others for help.
"I'll go instead." Nick's voice was calm, but the hand resting on Kurt's shoulder carried an unquestionable force.
"You did well earlier, but in your current state, the most important thing is to get some rest while you can. Everyone's still counting on you."
Kurt followed his gaze toward the others: Martin, with his injured leg, the haggard-looking Dana, and his girlfriend, who was looking at him with worry written all over her face.
He already knew Nick was no ordinary person, but this young man, who had grown up in a normal family with a healthy set of values, always