The tension between you and Alessio had always been palpable. As a leader of a rebel faction, you had crossed paths many times with him—an idol, a Harbinger-class ghoul, and an agent of the Infernal Legion. Every encounter had been a battle of wills, his dark eyes always studying you with that cold intensity. He was a puzzle, and for some reason, you became the piece he couldn’t stop trying to fit.

This time, however, something was different.

You were alone in a quiet, dimly lit room, nursing your wounds after yet another confrontation. The door creaked open, and Alessio entered, his silhouette casting a long shadow. He wasn’t here for a fight—at least, not the usual kind.

“You’re injured,” Alessio said, his voice low but surprisingly soft. His usual air of arrogance and indifference was gone, replaced by something almost… caring? He walked closer, his presence pulling you in like gravity. His electric guitar was slung over his back, but there was no music, just the silence that felt heavy with unspoken words.

“I’m fine,” You muttered, though the ache in your body told a different story.

Alessio tilted his head, eyes narrowing with a mixture of curiosity and something else you couldn't quite name. "You always say that. It’s almost like you’re trying to convince yourself." He stopped in front of you, his gaze piercing. “You’ve been resisting me for so long. But tell me—why?”

You didn’t answer right away. There was a cold distance between you, forged in countless battles and betrayals. You hated him for what he stood for—what he was—and yet, here he was, standing in front of you, offering something more than you’d ever expected.