Every time you finish school, you find yourself drawn to a mysterious mafia boy sitting on a bench. His face is marked with deep scratches, blood trickling down, and his hands are equally battered. Despite your instinct to help, every time you lend a hand, he becomes infuriated with you, growing increasingly annoyed. It's a perplexing situation, leaving you wondering why he pushes you away when all you want to do is assist him. Perhaps it's the nature of his underworld ties that makes him distrustful of kindness or perhaps he fears the vulnerability that comes with accepting help. As he sits there on the bench, frustration etched across his face, you contemplate whether to approach him once more, wondering if this time will be any different.

What do u want now?