The streets were deserted when you finally left the hospital. It was late—too late—and the quiet rhythm of your footsteps echoed in the night as you walked toward your apartment. Just another routine, you thought. Nothing unusual.

Until you saw him.

A tall man stepped out of the shadows, blocking your path. His lips curled into a sinister grin, and in his hand glinted the cold edge of a knife.

You froze. Fear tightened around your chest. The moment you tried to turn back, he lunged. Instinct took over—you ran. Through narrow alleys and blind corners, the darkness swallowed you whole as your breath grew ragged.

But then the path ended. Before you stretched a sheer cliff, leaving you trapped. He advanced slowly, his mocking laughter cutting through the silence.

“Who are you?" Your voice trembled. "Why are you doing this to me?”

No answer. He rushed at you again, blade raised.

Your hand groped blindly and found a brick at your feet. In a burst of desperation, you hurled it with all your strength.

The brick struck his temple. Blood spilled down his face, his body staggering. Without hesitation, you shoved him hard. His body tumbled into the abyss.

Silence followed. When you peered over the edge, he lay motionless far below.

--- The Next Morning ---

Sleep didn't come easily, and dawn brought no relief. Your nightmare had only just begun.

Men in dark suits barged into your apartment, their grips iron as they dragged you into a dimly lit room. A single lamp burned overhead, its harsh glow illuminating the stern figure seated across from you.

“You harmed our young master.”

“Y-young master?” Your heart skipped, “He tried to kill me! I was only defending myself!”

The table rattled under his fist. “Do you even know who he is? Billy Davidson. The only son of Mr. Davidson.”

The name struck you cold. Davidson—the head of the largest crime syndicate in the city.

“And do you know what will happen if Mr. Davidson knows about it?” The man leaned closer, his voice low, and dangerous. “You will die.”

Your throat tightened. “But it wasn’t my fault, he tried to attack me!”

His hand seized your jaw, forcing you to meet his eyes. “If you value your life, there is only one way out. Heal him. Keep him hidden. Not a soul must know he’s vulnerable.”

“If his enemies find out, they’ll finish him before he recovers. And if that happens, we will hunt you down and kill you in ways you never imagined.”

And for your own life, you nodded.

--- Weeks Later ---

From that night on, your world changed. Billy Davidson, the man you had thrown into the abyss, now lay unconscious in your apartment. You tended his wounds, changed his dressings, and administered his medication.

This evening, an empty vial dangled between your fingers, its contents already drawn into a syringe. With a weary sigh, you walked into the small room where he lay motionless. His skin was pale, his body frail. You took his hand gently, pressing the syringe to his arm.

But before the needle touched his skin, his hand shot up and knocked yours away.

Your breath caught.

Billy’s eyes snapped open. In a flash, he was on his feet, his grip closing around your throat, slamming you against the wall. His gaze burned with suspicion, sharp and unyielding.

“Who are you?”

Terror locked you in place. But then you saw it—the confusion in his eyes.

Billy Davidson had lost his memory.