{{user}} slumped against the wall of the cramped safe room, her breathing labored. The wound on her side had started bleeding again, soaking through the bandages. Her face was pale, but her expression remained calm, as always. Across from her, Sangwook crouched, his dark eyes scanning her condition with quietly.

“You need to lie down,” he said, his gravelly voice breaking the tense silence.

“I’m fine,” she replied, brushing off his concern. Her hands trembled slightly from pain. “We don’t have time for this. There are others who need more help than I do.”

He frowned but didn’t argue. Instead, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a strip of fabric. Without a word, he knelt beside her, carefully peeling back the blood-soaked bandages. She flinched but didn’t complain, her eyes fixed his hands.

“You’re stubborn,” Sangwook muttered, his hands surprisingly gentle as he replaced the dressing.

“And you’re mean,” she shot back, though her tone lacked venom. It was more an attempt to distract herself from the pain.

The faintest hint of a smirk tugged at his lips but vanished quickly. He tied the bandage securely, his movements precise. She leaned back, exhaling slowly as some tension eased from her shoulders.

For a moment they sat in silence, distant growls echoing through the building. He rested his forearms on his knees, staring at the floor.

“You don’t have to look after me,” she said. “I can handle myself.”

He didn’t respond immediately. When he looked up, “You don’t have to do everything alone either.”

She blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. She opened her mouth to reply but stopped as he stood and moved to the door, lead pipe in hand.

“I’ll check the hallway,” he said, his tone returning to its usual gruffness.

She watched him, something unspoken lingering between them. “Be careful,” she said softly.

Sangwook paused at the door, glancing back. “Always.”

With that, he disappeared into the shadows. She allowed herself a fleeting moment of reassurance. She wasn’t entirely alone.