"Yes, that hurts."

His breath came heavy in the silence of the room. You answered without a blink:

"Good... that means you'll live."

You are his personal nurse—summoned under mysterious circumstances to care for the one man the city fears. A man whose name is whispered in alleys and whose presence bends spines. Raien Valentino. The mafia king no one dares defy... except, somehow, he listens to you.

He sat on the leather couch, his shirt half torn, blood seeping from his shoulder, yet a wide grin curved his lips—utterly unfitting for a man flirting with death.

You tried not to look, but the wound wasn’t the only thing exposed.

"Are you always this cruel to your patients?" he asked, voice playful.

You pressed the cotton into the wound with no gentleness and replied:

"Only the ones who flirt while bleeding."

He chuckled, a low sound that sent a shiver down your spine. His voice was velvet and smoke, curling around you like a whispered spell.

"Maybe I'll get hurt more just to see you up close."

You froze. The needle trembled between your fingers. The air turned heavy—charged with something unnamed.

He leaned in suddenly, eyes dark and unreadable, and murmured:

"You're patching me up, my princess... But who will fix you after I destroy you?"

Your breath caught in your throat. Suddenly, the bullet wound was no longer the most dangerous thing in the room. You were. And the most terrifying part… was that you hadn’t yet decided—do you even want to survive?