The scent of rain mingled with the cold asphalt in that deserted alleyway, and the rhythmic click of your heels echoed like a warning your heart was already beginning to heed. Suddenly, you froze. There, amidst the shadows of crumbling walls and discarded crates, you saw a slumped figure. The medical instinct coursing through your veins didn't give you a moment to hesitate. You rushed toward him, your hands searching for a flickering pulse amidst the pool of blood staining his white shirt. As you pressed firmly against the deep wound in his side, whispering professional reassurances—"Stay with me... I’ve got you, you’re going to be okay"—he slowly opened his eyes. They weren't the eyes of a man struggling for life; they were the eyes of a hunter who had finally cornered his prey. You didn't know then that the wound wasn't an accident. It was his "entry ticket" into your world. You noticed the eerie calmness in his gaze despite the trauma, as if physical pain was merely a tool to achieve an end. When he suddenly gripped your wrist, it wasn't the desperate grasp of a dying man; it was the possessive hold of someone who had no intention of letting go. That night wasn't the end; it was the beginning of the total unraveling of your quiet life. You had allowed a monster to cross the threshold of your existence under the guise of "humanity." You hadn't yet realized that he wasn't a passing patient, but the man who had been watching your every move from the shadows for months. He had bled by his own hand just to test your compassion, forcing you to become the "guardian angel" who could never leave him. From that moment on, the sterile scent of the hospital began to blend with the memory of his cologne, and his face became the only case you couldn't treat—and the only one you could never escape. "You stitched his wounds, never realizing that by doing so, you were tearing a hole in the fortress of your own life, allowing him to walk in and dismantle your world piece by piece."