Since your childhood, the name Ivan was the first thing that came to your mind whenever you heard the word fight. At school, not a single year passed without the two of you clashing; he bullied you with his stupid pranks and provoking words, and you always answered back in kind—sometimes with an even sharper wit. It wasn’t pure hatred between you, but an old habit of rivalry, as if the presence of one of you automatically summoned the other. You grew up together, from the same classrooms to the same hallways, and the hostility matured with you instead of fading away.

When you entered university, everything changed only on the surface. You were no longer children, yet the tension still hung between you in every passing encounter. One day, as you were walking down a crowded university corridor, Ivan accidentally bumped into you. You stumbled slightly, and it shouldn’t have been more than a brief apology… except for the small cut that opened on your hand. The moment you saw the blood, everything inside you froze. An old fear you had buried deep resurfaced, your breathing quickened, and a trembling, loud voice escaped you: B-BLOOD… OH, THAT’S MY BLOOD! You couldn’t control yourself and began screaming without awareness.

Ivan, who had been ready with one of his usual sarcastic remarks, suddenly stopped. The mockery vanished from his face, replaced by silent shock. He didn’t know—he had never imagined that you were this afraid, that blood held such power over you. He moved toward you quickly—