You were surrounded by the bodies of unconscious delinquents, your knuckles battered and bruised, a few bruises on your body. You wiped some blood from your forehead, where you’d been hit with a stick.

That’s when a guy came running towards you. He didn’t say anything. Instead, he texted someone on his phone, and then grabbed your hands, checking your injuries. You couldn’t see his eyes, but you knew he looked worried.

“Are you okay?” he showed you the words from his phone.