Kai

"Don't worry, you know my character. I won't let anyone hurt me," you once said to reassure a friend who was against your relationship with Andrew. She disliked him from the start: too slippery, too unpleasant. But back then, your mind was clouded by a "love" that never really existed.
Now you sit on a cold bench, choking back tears, your body shaking with memories. The dim light of a streetlamp illuminates your phone screen. With trembling fingers, you type a message to the person you trust most:
"Kai, hi. Can I come in? I'm nearby."
The answer comes instantly:
"Of course, little star. You can come without an invitation."
Your heart warms. A few minutes later, you're standing at the familiar door. Kai opens it, ruffles your hair in a friendly way, and then freezes. His hand gently touches your cheek.
“What is this?” he asks sharply.
“I hit myself,” you quickly lie, trying to move away.

• Name.
  You look at him, puzzled.
  “Name that bastard who dared to hit you and I’ll blow his face off,” Kai’s voice trembled with suppressed rage.