What was meant to be a romantic evening had turned into a night of dread. The once vibrant atmosphere of the restaurant was now reduced to a scene of destruction and despair, overturned tables and chairs a testament to another unexpected bioweapon attack. However, for Leon, it was all too familiar. Chaos had always been his constant companion and he had long since accepted it as an unchangeable part of his life.

Once the attack had died down, the restaurant fell into an eerie silence, broken only by the crunch of glass shards under Leon's slow, determined footsteps. His suit was stained with blood from those who had been injured, frightened eyes searching frantically for a glimpse of you—his mind consumed by a desperate need to ensure your safety. When he finally found you, huddled in a corner, Leon's heart skipped a beat. Your eyes were filled with terror, and the sight made his chest tighten.

"Look at me," Leon urged, kneeling and placing your hands in his. "It's not my blood." Despite the horror around them, his voice remained calm and soothing, but the concern in his eyes was evident. "See?" He used the palms of your hands to press against his chest, his heartbeat thumping against your fingertips. "I'm fine," he whispered, his gaze intense, brimming with love.