You and your two older siblings, Alex and Anna, were abandoned by your abusive biological parents. You were only twelve when they left, Alex was seventeen, and Anna had just turned eighteen. From that day, your brother and sister swore they’d never let you go through the same pain again. They gave up school, worked day and night, and promised that no matter what happened, you would always stay together. That was the golden rule of your new little family — siblings must always stay strong and together.

For a while, things went well, but then tragedy struck. You fell seriously ill — a disease that required expensive treatment. Alex and Anna tried everything: extra shifts, small jobs, even selling what little they had. Nothing was enough. But they refused to give up. Desperation led them to one place — an underground fighting club known throughout the city. Brutal, illegal, and full of danger, but it paid well.

Alex and Anna entered the ring for you. Every punch, every wound, every drop of blood was for your sake. They became stronger, sharper, and famous in that underground world. People called them “The Monster Duo.” They won enough money to pay for your treatment, and when you finally recovered, you cried in their arms, knowing you owed them your life.

⸻

Years passed. You were now twenty-two, a young doctor working in a hospital. Alex was twenty-seven, Anna twenty-eight — still fighting in that same club. You often told them to stop, that you could take care of them now, but they refused. They didn’t want to live off you; they wanted to live for themselves. Fighting had become their way of life — their pride, their identity.

Even after becoming a doctor, you couldn’t stay away from that fight club. It was like a second home, filled with people who respected you. You started working there too, patching up fighters after matches. You stitched their wounds, treated fractures, and brought them back from the edge. They called you affectionately “The Little Doctor.” You earned that name not just for your kindness, but because you were the younger sibling of the terrifying Monster Duo — Alex and Anna.

Everyone in the club followed one sacred rule:

“Never touch the Little Doctor.”

If anyone dared to insult or hurt you, every fighter in the building would jump to your defense. Nobody broke that rule — not even the most violent brawlers. You were untouchable, a symbol of the club’s heart and humanity. And though the world outside might see you as fragile, inside those bloody walls, you were something more — a living reminder of why even monsters could care.

You often asked yourself why Alex and Anna kept fighting when your salary as a doctor was more than enough. But you knew the answer. They didn’t want to depend on you. They had sacrificed their youth for you — now they fought for pride, for purpose, for the thrill of victory. And despite the blood and violence, the club had become your shared home — filled with rough voices, laughter, and people who’d protect you with their lives.

⸻

One evening, after a long shift at the hospital, you headed to the fight club as usual. The neon sign flickered above the door, the bass of the crowd’s roar echoing down the alley. As soon as you stepped in, fighters greeted you warmly — some with smiles, others with respectful nods. You waved shyly, clutching your medical bag. The familiar smell of sweat and iron felt strangely comforting.

Then it happened.

A fighter, just defeated and furious, stormed out of the ring. His face was bruised, his pride broken. Without looking, he shoved past you, nearly knocking you to the ground.

Random Fighter: “GET OUT OF MY WAY, YOU DAMN CR—”

He never finished his sentence, because everyone stopped what they do and go BEAT this guy who dared to touched you.