I am Tria, and I’m a transferred doctor. The night was cloaked in an eerie stillness. Fog hung thick around the hospital walls like a heavy curtain, and even the wind had ceased to stir. It was the kind of silence that made the heart uneasy—unnatural and expectant, as though the air itself was holding its breath.

Then, without warning, a roar broke the silence. A distant, thunderous sound—like the growl of a hundred motorcycles—echoed through the night, growing louder with every second. Inside, panic took root. Nurses abandoned their posts, fleeing through side doors, too frightened to even glance outside. No one knew what was coming. No one dared to find out.

Drawn by a mix of dread and instinct, my eyes turned toward the hospital's main gate. Through the swirling fog, a figure emerged—tall, broad-shouldered, around six-foot-two or six-foot-three. His helmet was cracked, almost shattered. Blood soaked his clothes, and deep bullet wounds marked his torso. He staggered forward, breath ragged and shallow.

Fear spread like wildfire among those who remained, but I couldn't look away.

He collapsed just past the gate, pulled off what remained of his helmet, and, in a faint, broken voice, whispered, "Please... save me."

For a heartbeat, everything inside me stood still. The chaos, the fear—all of it faded into the background. All I could see were his eyes: deep brown, filled with exhaustion and pain, yet still carrying a flicker of life.

I rushed forward, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. "Don't worry. I'm here."

Without wasting a second, I brought him into the operating theatre. Time blurred into instinct as I worked. My hands moved swiftly, precisely—every second counted. By 1:30 a.m., I had managed to extract all the bullets lodged in his body. His vitals stabilized. He was alive.

After the operation, I sat beside his bed, trying to piece together the mystery.

Judging by the severity of his wounds, the attack had been deliberate, ruthless. A gang hit, perhaps? The thought sent a chill down my spine. But deeper still was something I couldn't quite explain—a pull toward him. A need to stay.

I glanced at him again. His face was handsome, though pale from blood loss. Something about him was... captivating. Magnetic. I couldn't look away.

The hospital, once alive with panic, had fallen quiet again. One by one, the staff left—no one wanted to stay in a place that felt cursed. I watched them go, noticing the strange, haunted look etched across each of their faces. Fear had settled in their bones.

It was exactly 2 a.m.

I hadn’t moved from his side. The monitors beside the bed beeped softly, a rhythmic reminder that life still clung to him, fragile but persistent. The rest of the hospital had descended into an uncanny silence. Only the occasional flicker of a ceiling light broke the stillness.

Then—I heard it.

Heavy boots. Four pairs, moving in unison. The sound echoed through the empty corridor, slow and deliberate. I froze. Every instinct screamed that something was wrong. My hand tightened on the armrest of the chair before I stood up slowly, heart pounding in my ears.

I stepped out into the hallway.

Through the dim emergency lights and thin film of mist curling through the doorways, I saw them—four tall figures approaching from the far end. They were all wearing black. Each of them had a helmet on, face completely concealed. Their gait was confident. Unshaken. As if they owned the ground they walked on.

I planted myself in the middle of the corridor and called out, “Who are you looking for at this hour?”

They didn’t respond at first—just kept walking, boots thudding against tile. But I held my ground, voice firmer now.

“I said—Who are you looking for at this hour?”

At last, the one at the front stopped. The others halted behind him like shadows. He turned his head slightly in my direction, helmet visor catching the corridor light.

“You already know,” he said, his voice low and distorted behind the helmet. “We’ve come for him.”

The man at the front took another step toward me, his presence towering and cold beneath the helmet. For a moment, he didn’t speak. Then, his voice broke the silence again—quieter this time, almost casual.

“Are you new here?” he asked.

There was something unsettling about the way he said it—like the question held layers beneath its surface.

I nodded, keeping my expression neutral. “Yes. I’m the new doctor on night duty.”

He tilted his head slightly, as though that answered something unspoken.

“If this man has any family,” I added, trying to keep my tone calm yet assertive, “you can fill out the hospital admission form at the front desk. Until then, he remains under my care.”

For a second, none of them moved. The corridor felt too quiet, too still, as if the very walls were holding their breath.

Then, without a word, the four turned and began to walk back down the hallway—boots echoing again, fading slowly into the distance.

But I didn’t feel relief.

Not yet.

Something in their silence chilled me more than threats ever could.

And deep down, I knew they would be back.

The silence lingered long after they disappeared down the corridor. I stood there for a few more seconds, trying to calm the storm still brewing in my chest. Then I turned and walked back to his room.

He hadn’t moved. Still unconscious. Still breathing. And still very much a mystery.

Who were they?

And more importantly—who was he?

[Scene Change]

Outside the hospital—several blocks away, cloaked in fog and silence.

The four men walked side by side, helmets off now, revealing sharp features hardened by countless battles. They weren’t just any group—they moved like a unit, bound by something stronger than loyalty. Something closer to blood.

Tom broke the silence first, a soft smirk tugging at his lips.

“Looks like an angel guarding our devil,” he said with a half-laugh, but there was no real amusement in his voice—only tired awe.

Alex chuckled under his breath, but there was a shadow behind his eyes. “You saw how she stood there? Not a flicker of fear.”

Tom nodded, then glanced at Ralph. “You sure she doesn’t know who he is?”

“She doesn’t,” Ralph replied, voice low, steady. “She’s just doing her job. No clue what kind of fire she just stepped into.”

Alex’s tone dropped, heavy with concern. “If she did… would she still have saved him?”

Silence.

Then Ralph, the one who had spoken to the doctor, slowed his steps. His eyes stayed locked on the path ahead, but his voice was laced with something deeper—respect, pain, and something almost like devotion.

“He’s not just one of us,” Ralph said. “He is us. He built the spine we walk on. Without him… we’re nothing.”

Tom and Alex exchanged looks, and the weight in their chests was the same.

They weren’t talking about a leader anymore.

They were talking about a brother.

A few moments passed before Zayne finally spoke, his voice low, certain—"I'm sure this is the work of the Oshiro family."

They got on the bike, the engine growling to life—and the fog wrapped tighter around them as they disappeared into the night.

[Scene Change - Back to the Hospital]

After watching them disappear into the fog, I turned back and quietly returned to his side. I sat quietly beside the man I had just pulled back from death—his breathing shallow, his face pale under the dim light.

I didn’t know who he was.

To me, he was just a stranger.

A man dropped at my hospital doors, broken and bleeding.

A man who whispered, “Please… save me.”

Those words lingered in my mind like a whisper caught in the wind.

I had done everything I could—the wounds cleaned, bullets removed, vitals stabilized. And now, as silence settled in the room and the monitors beeped softly in the background, exhaustion began to wrap around me like a blanket.

I rested my head against the chair, telling myself I would close my eyes just for a moment.

But the moment stretched.

And without realizing, I drifted into sleep—right there beside him.

The next morning. The narrow rays of the morning sun slipped quietly through the hospital window. I woke up with a jolt at the sudden ringing of the landline. Sitting up, I noticed the person who had been resting beside me was no longer there. Pushing aside the thought, I reached for the phone.

After finishing the call, I stepped out into the corridor. There he was — laughing and chatting with four of his friends. I walked a few steps closer, unsure of his name, so I simply called out, “Hey man!”

He turned to look at me.

For a brief moment, my eyes locked onto his face — those deep brown eyes, that tired face which, though once drained and pale from blood loss, now looked much better. Something about him made me freeze for a heartbeat.

I quickly gathered myself and asked sharply,

“Who gave you permission to leave your room in this condition?”

Then my eyes shifted to the four people standing with him. Last time, I hadn’t seen their faces clearly — they had all been wearing helmets.

One of them stepped forward and said, “Hello! Last time, I was the one who spoke to you. My name’s Ralph Russo.”

One by one, I was introduced to the others — Zayne Shay, Alex Gallo, and Tom Abate.

And finally, the boy with the worn, weary face looked at me and said in a quiet voice,

“And I’m Raven.”

Raven looked at me, his voice calm but sincere as he said,

“Thank you, doctor… You saved my life.”

There was a depth in his eyes — not just gratitude, but something heavier, something unspoken. For a moment, the bustling corridor faded into silence, and all I could hear were those few words, soft but powerful.

The light chatter died instantly as the hospital doors opened. Four figures dressed in black stepped inside — their presence sharp and cold like a storm about to break.

A nurse whispered, “The Oshiro family…”

Raven’s face is drained of color. For the first time, I saw fear flicker in his eyes.

The tall man in front, silver-streaked hair slicked back, scanned the corridor like a predator. Beside him, a woman’s heels clicked sharply, her smile too perfect, her eyes deadly.

Two younger men followed silently — one expressionless, the other burning with quiet rage.

Raven took a shaky step back, whispering, “They found me… They weren’t supposed to.”

Ralph’s voice was low but urgent. “If the Oshiros are here, it’s serious. We need to move.”

Zayne nodded. “They never come without a plan.”

I looked at Raven. “You’re still weak. You can’t go.”

His faint smile was grim. “Survival can’t wait.”.”

Tom leaned closer to me. “Can you help us get out unnoticed? Just for today. We need to regroup.”

I took a deep breath. I knew helping them might put my job — even my safety — at risk. But I nodded.

“I’ll handle the hospital staff. I’ll buy you some time.”

Raven looked up at me, this time with something different in his eyes — not fear, not pain — trust.

“Thank you,” he said, quietly but clearly.

“You didn’t have to help. But you did.”

I just replied, “Let’s get you out of here. We’ll figure the rest out later.”

I scanned the hallway. It was quiet. The nurse station was empty, and the morning shift hadn’t fully begun yet. I turned to them and whispered,

“Follow me. Don’t talk. Keep your heads down.”

Raven stood slowly, still weak, but the hesitation in his eyes was gone — replaced by silent determination. Ralph moved to his side, steadying him. Tom asked quietly,

“Are you sure about this?”

“There’s no other way,” I replied.

We started moving down the side corridor of the hospital. I knew every corner of this place, every backdoor, every blind spot. I led them to the old supply room near the emergency exit. I had unlocked it earlier — just in case.

“Wait here,” I said. “I’ll check if the path is clear.”

Raven caught my arm. “If something happens… don’t get involved further. Please.”

I looked at him. “It’s already too late for that.”

He let go.

I slipped out, checked the hallway, then signaled. One by one, they followed, quiet and careful. The emergency door creaked as we opened it, letting in a gust of fresh morning air. It led to a narrow alley behind the hospital.

“We go now,” Zayne muttered.

They moved quickly. I stayed at the door, watching as they disappeared into the morning mist.

Raven turned one last time and looked back at me — a short glance, but enough to say thank you without words.

And then they were gone.

Raven turned one last time and looked back at me — a short glance, but enough to say thank you without words.

And then they were gone.

hesitation in his eyes was gone — replaced by silent determination. Ralph moved to his side, steadying him. Tom asked quietly,

“Are you sure about this?”

“There’s no other way,” I replied.

We started moving down the side corridor of the hospital. I knew every corner of this place, every backdoor, every blind spot. I led them to the old supply room near the emergency exit. I had unlocked it earlier — just in case.

“Wait here,” I said. “I’ll check if the path is clear.”

Raven caught my arm. “If something happens… don’t get involved further. Please.”

I looked at him. “It’s already too late for that.”

He let go.

I slipped out, checked the hallway, then signaled. One by one, they followed, quiet and careful. The emergency door creaked as we opened it, letting in a gust of fresh morning air. It led to a narrow alley behind the hospital.

“We go now,” Zayne muttered.

They moved quickly. I stayed at the door, watching as they disappeared into the morning mist.

Raven turned one last time and looked back at me — a short glance, but enough to say thank you without words.

And then they were gone.

But I knew this wasn’t over.

They’d be back.

And I’d be waiting.

Just as one of the men stepped forward to grab my arm, a new voice rang out — sharp, commanding, female.

“That’s enough.”

Both men instantly backed off. I turned.

A woman in her early thirties stepped out from the shadows. She wore a crisp black suit, her long dark hair tied back, and her heels clicked softly as she approached. Her presence was chilling — composed, lethal, and clearly in charge.

The way the men moved around her told me everything — this woman was their boss.

She stopped right in front of me, her eyes scanning me like I was a puzzle she had already solved.

“So,” she said softly. “You’re the doctor who thinks she can outsmart the Oshiro family.”

I didn’t reply. My silence didn’t amuse her.

Without warning, her hand shot forward — and she drove her knee straight into my lower belly.

The pain hit instantly. I gasped, stumbling back against the wall, breath knocked from my lungs. One of the men moved to catch me, but she raised a hand to stop him.

“I want her to remember this moment,” she said coldly. “Not just the pain — the choice.”

I held my stomach, trying to breathe through the shock.

“If Raven is with you,” she continued, crouching slightly to meet my eye level, “then you’ve already made yourself part of this war. And we don’t let traitors go unpunished.”

Her voice was calm, but her eyes burned.

Then, she stood.

“Take her,” she said to the men. “But make sure she stays alive. For now.”

The blow landed hard.

I couldn’t breathe.

A searing pain shot through my lower belly, sharp and immediate, like something inside me had shifted, broken. My knees buckled before I could stop them, and I collapsed onto the cold floor, clutching my stomach with both hands.

The world blurred.

Tears welled up in my eyes — not from fear, not even from humiliation — but from the sheer intensity of the pain. The kind of pain that makes your body forget everything else.

She didn’t hit me lightly.

She meant to send a message.

I couldn’t even cry out. My throat is locked. My vision blurred, but the tears that escaped my eyes said everything — how hard she had struck me, how much it hurt.

My breath came in short, shaking gasps as I lay there, curled slightly, trying not to scream.

Above me, the woman simply turned to her man and said coldly,

“Make sure she doesn’t pass out. I want her to be conscious.”

But my body betrayed me.

No matter how much I tried to stay conscious—eyes open, mind alert—the pain had taken over everything. My breaths were shallow and sharp. My limbs refused to respond. The tiles beneath me felt cold, but my skin burned. My head spun wildly, and darkness crept in from the edges of my vision.

I heard the woman’s voice again, but this time it sounded far away. Distant. Like it was underwater.

“She’s slipping.”

“Keep her awake,” someone barked. Maybe her. Maybe not. I couldn’t tell anymore.

Rough hands grabbed me by the shoulders, shaking me hard.

“Open your eyes,” one of the men growled.

I wanted to.

I really did.

But the pain was too deep, curling inside me like smoke. I gasped as another wave of agony surged through my abdomen. My body curled tighter, instinctively trying to protect itself.

“She’s blacking out!”

“Damn it!”

Another voice cut in—calm, steady, different from the others.

“Let her go.”

A pause.

“What?”

“She’s no use to us dead. Or broken. Let her pass out. We’ll bring her back when we need answers.”

“But the boss said—”

“She’ll understand. We can’t afford to kill her now.”

Footsteps approached. A faint warmth pressed against my neck—someone checking my pulse. Then fingers on my wrist.

“She’ll live.”

The last thing I saw before the darkness swallowed me was a pair of black boots standing beside me. Immaculately polished. Unmoving. As if they were planted into the earth itself.

And then…

Silence.

Weightlessness.

Three days later

The sterile white walls of the hospital room blurred into one another as I slowly blinked awake. The beeping of a heart monitor tethered me to the present, to life. My body felt heavy, weighed down by more than just painkillers. Every breath reminded me of the knee to my gut, and every second felt like a countdown to what would come next.

I was alive.

But I wasn’t the same.

Someone had bandaged me. Someone had kept me breathing. Maybe out of mercy. Maybe out of necessity.

The door creaked open. A nurse stepped in — one I didn’t recognize. She didn’t speak, just placed a white envelope on the bedside table and left without meeting my eyes.

I turned my head, slowly, painfully, and reached for it.

The hospital’s official letterhead was stamped across the front.

I tore it open with trembling fingers.

Dr. Tria D,

We regret to inform you that, due to recent concerns regarding your safety and the escalating circumstances surrounding your involvement with certain external individuals, the hospital committee has decided to relieve you of your duties effective immediately.

You are advised not to return to the premises. This is for your own protection as well as the security of the staff and patients.

Your belongings have been packed and will be delivered to a location of your choosing.

We wish you the best.

— The Committee

My breath hitched.

Not even a call. Not a meeting. Just… a letter.

They were cutting ties.

I wasn’t just suspended — I was erased. Quietly. Completely.

They were afraid. And maybe they were right to be.

Because this wasn’t just about me anymore.

It was about Raven. About the Oshiro family. About a war I had unknowingly stepped into.

But it was too late to walk away now.

Even if the hospital had closed its doors…

…I knew this was just the beginning.