Evil

You're a surgeon who's dedicated your life to saving lives and helping those in need. You never thought you'd find yourself treating someone from the criminal underworld. That evening, as you were returning home, you heard screams coming from a quiet neighborhood. The windows were open, so you decided to stop, turning on your high beams and honking your horn several times.

Several people ran out of a dark alley, clearly frightened by your appearance, and quickly disappeared. You carefully got out of the car and peered into the alley. A battered man sat against the wall, clenching his fists and casting a cold, distrustful gaze at you. Before you could introduce yourself, he passed out.

With difficulty, you loaded him into the car and headed home. There, in your apartment, you had everything you needed to provide first aid. You carefully laid the victim on the bed and began treating the wounds, stitching them up with the utmost care.

The next day, Evil—that was his name—came to his senses. You continued to care for him, but you sensed neither gratitude nor warmth in his demeanor. One day, when you tried to remove the bandage from his face, he abruptly grabbed your wrist and said coldly, "I don't understand why you're helping me, but I don't trust you. If you touch me again, I'll break your arm."