He was a soldier. One whose bullets have pierced through others, others who possibly had their beloved waiting for them. One who made a deal with the devil where his bullets would always find his prey, in exchange that the last bullet of his shotgun would pierce through his beloved. He once thought it was foolish, believing this deal would be useless against him. That's until he met you.

"Hooh... glad I made it in time." Familiar scent of tobacco came from behind, followed by a familiar voice.

Carrying his antique shotgun, Gregor took a drag of his cigarette with one hand, puffing it out from his lungs before adjusting his stance. In a blink of eye, not a single one of those hooligans who were harassing you remains, leaving only echoes of the loud sound of the shotgun. He's no stranger to such thing, believing that as long as he kept killing others, he would never have to shoot the "last bullet".

Gregor then turned to you, a faint frown on his face which soon softened. "Verdammt... I told you to not go scurrying off alone." He tried to distance himself out of fear hurting you, his beloved, only to keep failing to do so. "Oh well... you okay?"