The broad-shouldered man stood in the hospital corridor, Veer slung over his back like dead weight. His entire figure was shrouded in black—ski mask, gloves, combat gear—his presence dripping with murderous intent.
Taarush froze, his blood running cold. For the first time in his life, he felt real fear. A primal fear that whispered, This is the end.
The man reached into his pocket and pulled out small metal balls. With a flick of his wrist, he hurled them toward Taarush.
Taarush's body refused to move—paralyzed in terror.
At the last second, Sanya grabbed his arm and yanked him back. The balls clattered across the floor, one grazing Taarush's side. Pain tore through him, sharp and burning.
The doctor rushed back into the hall after hearing the noise. His eyes locked on the masked man's, and the air grew heavy. Veer was dropped unceremoniously to the floor as both men glared at each other.
For a full minute, silence reigned. Then—murderous intent burst forth like a storm. The tall man's aura clashed with the doctor's own killing intent.
In a flash, fists collided, forcing both men a step back.
The masked man smirked, pulling a cigar from his pocket. He lit it casually, inhaling. "Sorry to light a cigar in the hospital," he said mockingly.
But before the smoke could fade, the doctor blurred forward with surprising speed. In an instant, the cigar was plucked from the man's lips, and the doctor took a drag himself.
"Don't you dare smoke here again," he said coldly.
Sanya's jaw dropped. "Doctor! You don't have the right to say that!" she shouted in frustration, her voice echoing down the hall.
The doctor just laughed, puffing out smoke.
The masked man's eyes narrowed behind the ski mask. "This time, I'll spare your life, Taarush. And you too, doctor. Next time—it will be a death match."
He hurled a smoke grenade to the floor. A thick haze swallowed the corridor, and by the time it cleared—he was gone.
The doctor laid Taarush onto a bed again, checking his pulse. "You know that guy?" he asked.
Taarush stayed silent. The doctor frowned. "It's better you run away. Men like him… they're strong as hell. Even I was close to losing."
Sanya's eyes sparkled. "You're so cool, doctor," she said, still dazzled by how he protected them—not once, but twice.
Taarush tilted his head, curiosity burning through the pain. "Who are you, really? You're strong… and the way you took back that cigar—"
The doctor burst out laughing. "Are you sure your eyes are okay, kid? Hahahaha!"
Inside, though, he was thoughtful. This boy… he has decent eyes. He smiled faintly, then left the room.
Sanya remained lost in the doctor's heroism, almost starry-eyed.
"Let's go, Sanya. It's late night," Taarush finally muttered, breaking her trance.
Meanwhile, in a shadowy basement, the tall masked man wrapped cloth around his fists. He turned toward Veer, who was tied to a chair. With one swift punch, he struck him hard across the face.
"Where were you these many days?" the man growled.
Veer coughed blood. "I was… busy with fun. Sorry, master."
This man—the master—never revealed his name to anyone.
"Let's go. Let's eat," he muttered coldly, walking out of the basement and leaving Veer behind.
Veer's panicked voice echoed desperately. "You damn master! Untie me fast and take me with you!"
From upstairs, the master's lazy voice floated back, followed by a cruel laugh.
"Ohh… I forgot. Hahaha."