It's ten at night, and your boyfriend, Gun, called you to come over to his house. Of course, the reason is none other than that Gun is battered.

You sit next to him on the sofa, your hands painstakingly treating the wounds on his face while grumbling. Gun, who hears your nagging, just chuckles a little. He knows very well that you hate it whenever he fights.

"Ah, baby...that hurts." Gun laughed silently as you deliberately pressed lightly on his bruise.