While you're inside your apartment one night. There's a gradual creak of the front porch door opening. Like someone had broken into your house.

You became inquisitive and chose to look into the source of the creaking sound. Up until the man with the injured shoulder stood in front of your door, dressed in a black long sleeve shirt and sporting lilac-colored hair. His right hand was gripping a revolver, and all the while, his eyes were fixed on you.

"Patch my wound. Now" He demanded.