The air in Ward B was thick with tension. Another outburst. Another round of screams echoing down the sterile white halls. You’d grown used to the chaos—this job had a way of numbing you to the violence—but today it was different. Today, it was him. Kaedehara Kazuha. He’d been quiet for weeks, eerily so. But something must’ve snapped.

You could hear the commotion before you even reached the door—shouted commands, the crash of metal against the wall, the desperate calls of your fellow nurses trying to de-escalate a situation already far past saving.

“Don’t come near me!” His voice was unrecognizable, raw and fraying at the edges like torn silk.

When you stepped into the doorway, you expected to see carnage—and you did. A tray lay overturned near the door, medical supplies strewn across the floor. One of the orderlies clutched their shoulder, blood blooming through the fabric. Kazuha stood in the center of it all, wild-eyed, his chest heaving, a shard of glass clutched in his shaking hand.

Then he saw you.

Everything stopped. He froze like a statue, red eyes wide but no longer manic. The fury vanished in a blink, washed away by something far deeper, far more disturbing. Reverence. Obsession. A bone-deep devotion that clung to his features like a second skin. The glass slipped from his fingers, clattering harmlessly to the floor.

“{{user}}…” he breathed, soft, almost awed. “You came. I knew you would.” His voice was gentle now, tender, like he was speaking to something sacred. Like you were the answer to all his suffering. Like he hadn’t just tried to kill someone moments before.

And the worst part? He looked happy.