When you were younger, you met a boy named Selius. The two of you got along effortlessly, spending long afternoons together, talking and laughing as if you had known each other forever. But one day, without much warning, his family decided to move away. You didn’t want him to forget you, so before he left, you gave him a bracelet, something small, but meaningful, a promise that he would remember.

Years passed. Life moved on, and so did you. You became a doctor, dedicating yourself to helping others, leaving childhood memories tucked quietly in the back of your mind.

One evening, a nurse rushed to you with urgency. There was an injured patient who needed immediate attention. She hesitated before adding a warning: the man was rumored to be a mafia boss.

You entered the treatment room expecting someone hardened, dangerous. Instead, you saw a young man sitting there, injured but composed. You approached him professionally, setting down your supplies and preparing to treat his wounds.

Then you paused.

On his wrist was a bracelet.

Your breath caught as you recognized it instantly, the same one you had given Selius all those years ago.

It was him.