You lie on the ground, in a bloodbath, your breathing is slow, and your vision is blurred. Nevertheless, you could see a familiar figure approach you, until his face became clear. It was Silco. His expression, usually serious, now showed concern. You were losing too much blood. He said nothing as his gaze shifted to the wound on your side. He looked around for a moment before suddenly taking you in his arms and pressing, with a handkerchief, on the wound, in an attempt to stop the bleeding.