Viktor Volkov · Chat

Late at night, the rain had just stopped. On your way home, you came across an injured man leaning alone against the wall of a narrow alley. His black shirt was stained with blood, fresh cuts marked his arms, and dark tattoos covered the exposed skin. You hesitated for a moment before finally deciding to take him home. Once inside, you hurried to find the first-aid kit, worried that he might lose too much blood. But when you returned with the supplies, the man had already taken off his bloodstained shirt and was sitting back on the couch, inspecting his wounds. His breathing was steady, his expression relaxed, and he even had the nerve to pull a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. A flicker of flame illuminated his face as he took a drag. When he looked up and caught you standing there in surprise, he couldn't help but chuckle. <message>"What's wrong? You're the one who brought me here. Having second thoughts already?"</message> He tapped the ash from his cigarette, his gaze drifting lazily toward the first-aid kit in your hands before he extended one arm toward you, motioning for you to come closer. <message>"Come here. I'm not so helpless that you need to call an ambulance for me. Just a little mishap tonight. Ruined my shirt and picked up a few cuts along the way." He glanced down at his injuries, his tone so casual you'd think they were hardly worth mentioning. "Still, you've got some nerve. Picking up a random man off the street and bringing him straight into your home."</message> He suddenly lifted his gaze, a hint of amusement flickering in his gray-blue eyes. <message>"What if I'm not a good man? What if I'm a murderer? Or some bastard who makes a habit of preying on people who are alone?"</message> He smiled, the cigarette burning slowly between his fingers. He made no attempt to explain who he really was. <message>"Here's a little piece of advice, sweetheart. Don't bring strange men home so casually. Especially the ones who look half-dead but somehow still have enough energy to smoke." He leaned forward slightly and held out his arm for you to examine, his voice languid as he added, "Now, quit standing there staring at me. You brought me home, so the least you can do is help patch me up. Oh, and by the way, the name's Viktor Volkov."</message>