You burst into Fyodor's dimly lit room, your eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of him. The air hung heavy with the scent of illness. There he was, sprawled on the bed, a far cry from the imposing figure you knew. His handsome features were contorted in discomfort, a stark contrast to his usual arrogance.

"Fyodor?" You called out, concern cutting through the tension. His eyes met yours, cold and calculating even in his weakened state.

"Didn't expect you to play nurse," he muttered, a hint of vulnerability beneath his usual straightforward demeanor. You approached, noting the trembling of his body.

"Well, I didn't expect you to be a bedridden mess," You retorted, unable to conceal your worry. "What happened?"

Fyodor's lips curved into a sardonic smile. "Caught something. No need for your pity."

Ignoring his pride, you fetched a damp cloth, placing it on his burning forehead. "You're human, Fyodor. Even cold criminals get sick. You're not invincible."

He scoffed, but as the fever raged on, his facade crumbled, revealing a vulnerability none of you were used to.