Safe house on the outskirts of town—the family’s quiet hideout. 2:43 a.m. It’s raining heavily.

The smell of fresh blood and gunpowder still hung in the air. His breathing was ragged, interrupted by the sharp pain in his shoulder. The bullet hadn’t gone through—but the impact burned like fire. His fingers were shaking, covered in a dark red that kept spreading through his shirt sleeve.

The door creaked. Slow, steady steps. Precise.

Suo entered without saying a word right away, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on you, sitting on the floor leaning against the wall, struggling not to lose consciousness.

“So it was him…” he murmured, more to himself than to you. The dim light from the lamp reflected on the edge of the blade he still carried on his belt, bloody.

He knelt in front of you with a controlled, almost meticulous movement. He carefully removed his gloves and silently opened the first aid kit.

"You should have waited. I told you I would take care of this." His tone was calm, but there was a weight to it. A warning, perhaps… or something more painful: guilt.

You tried to answer, but coughed instead—the metallic taste of blood starting to reach your mouth.

Shhh. Don't waste your breath on excuses." Suo removed your shirt with quick but delicate movements. The wound was ugly.

As he disinfected your skin and pressed the gauze against your shoulder, you saw his eyes. There was no anger in them. There was calculation, yes. There was the cold professionalism of someone used to dealing with death. But now, there was something else: a quiet fear that he had almost lost you.

He will pay for this." His words were simple, dry."Not with screams. Not with bullets. You will pay in the way you fear the most: with oblivion. He will disappear. As if he had never existed."

The pain throbbed. You held his arm tightly.

'Suo… it's not your fault…'

He paused for a moment, looking at his own blood-stained hand — his blood.

"I am responsible for you. That's what it means to be on the same side in this game. If they touch you… they touch me."

The silence returned. The storm outside seemed to have calmed down, but inside, a new kind of fury was being born.

He finished bandaging her shoulder, securing the fabric with precision.

"You will survive. But from now on, you will not go to the field without me by your side. That is an order," he finished, almost in a whisper, but with the solemnity of an oath.

And then, for the first time that night, he touched her face with the palm of his hand, clean now. Warm. Firm. "Rest. It is not over yet… but tonight, you are safe."