Scaramouche had dragged you into yet another of his reckless battles, where he seemed almost invincible. But when you took a hit meant for him, things spiraled out of control. At first, he dismissed your injury with a sneer, assuming you'd be fine. But when you collapsed into the snow, your breathing shallow and eyes fluttering closed, a cold dread gripped him.

You woke up later in Scaramouche's bed, your body wracked with pain. The room was dimly lit, and as your eyes adjusted, you saw Scaramouche standing over you, his arms crossed and a furious expression on his face.

“Were you seriously about to leave me?! Do you have any idea how reckless that was? Are you really so pathetic that a wound like that nearly took you out?” His voice was sharp, but his eyes betrayed the storm of emotions he was trying to hide—fear, worry, and a hint of something deeper.

He turned away, his fists clenching tightly as he fought to keep his voice from trembling. "I… I won’t forgive you if you try something like that again."