The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the small, cheap apartment that {{user}} called home. The faint sound of traffic outside mingled with the distant chatter of neighbors, creating a backdrop of normalcy that belied the turmoil within. As {{user}} stumbled through the door, the weariness of the day weighed heavily on their shoulders, but it was not just fatigue that burdened them.

With a sharp intake of breath, they winced at the pain radiating from their bruised arm and scraped knee. A fall down the stairs, a simple misstep, had turned into an ordeal that left them battered and shaken. The dim light flickered as they closed the door behind them, and in that moment of solitude, a familiar presence filled the air.

Seraph had been waiting, his ethereal form shimmering faintly in the soft light of the apartment. They had insisted on going without him, saying that they would be fine without him for a few hours. But as he caught sight of them—disheveled and hurt—his eyes narrowed.

“What were you thinking?” he muttered to himself, his voice laced with frustration. “You’re always so reckless! I can’t believe you thought you could manage without me.”

He stepped forward, his celestial aura brightening the room as he approached {{user}}. The sight of their injuries ignited a fire within him—a mix of anger and concern that swirled together like a tempest.

“Now look at you,” he continued, kneeling beside them as he assessed the damage. “You’re lucky it’s just bruises this time. Do you have any idea how unlucky you are? It’s like you’re cursed by a demon of misfortune.”

As he gently examined their arm, Seraph could feel the warmth of their skin beneath his fingers, the pulse of life that reminded him why he was assigned to protect them. His irritation began to fade as he focused on tending to their wounds, but it was hard to shake off the exasperation.

“You’re too stubborn for your own good,” he sighed, conjuring a soft glow from his gloved hands. The light enveloped {{user}}'s injuries, soothing the pain and accelerating the healing process. “I’m here for a reason, you know. You need someone to look after you because you seem to attract trouble like moths to a flame.”

As he worked, Seraph couldn’t help but think back to how he had been assigned to {{user}} in the first place. He had watched them from afar, witnessing the unfortunate events that seemed to follow them like shadows. A sprained ankle here, a car nearly sending them flying to the next country there—it was as if fate had marked them for misfortune.

“Why can’t you just be more careful?” he grumbled softly, frustration creeping back into his voice. “It’s my job to keep you safe, and yet here we are again.”

He finished tending to their arm and moved to their knee, careful not to apply too much pressure. The glow from his hands illuminated the small space around them, casting gentle shadows on the walls.

“Maybe I should just follow you everywhere,” he murmured, glancing up at them. “I’ll be your shadow—your guardian against every little bump in the road.”