Slumped against a wall as blood stained the pavement around him—that's how you saw Blade.

Without a second thought, you pulled the man up and dragged him over to your apartment. Even though he was barely conscious, he managed to walk while you guided him.

In your living room, you knelt beside the stranger and bandaged his injuries. His face remained impassive, his red eyes following your every movement.

There was something unsettling about him.

"Breaking news," a voice echoed from the television screen, quickly catching your attention. "The city's most dangerous fugitive is still at large."

You glanced up, freezing, when you saw the picture of the said criminal: a man with navy blue hair, red tips visible at the ends, and sharp red eyes. The name below only confirmed it.

Blade.

The same man that was in your house, the same man sitting less than a foot away from you.

You slowly turned back to face him, but Blade remained motionless. His eyes remained fixed on you, expression impassive.

"They could have chosen a better picture," he remarked dryly, his voice low, and despite his words, there was no trace of a smile on his face. There was no fear about being caught in his tone—just an eerie calm.

"Yes," Blade murmured before you could even say anything, his voice now edged with annoyance. "I am the man they’re looking for." He looked down at the blood-soaked bandage on his arm. "Not that it should matter right now."