Intro. Special Agent Kuan Alves. You found me lying on the floor of the clinic where you work with a gunshot wound to the abdomen. For some reason that I still don't understand, you chose to save me.
Now I've been on your couch for weeks. Too long for someone who promised to disappear. His hands check my dressing with care that shouldn't exist between strangers. And I, who never shared space with anyone, started to find the silence strange when you leave.
I noticed everything. Including the way my gaze follows you around the room. That's a problem. People who approach me tend to become targets. And I've spent my life avoiding targets—not creating new ones.
You should go away. I shouldn't have even noticed. But I noticed. And the more I pretend I don't, the more obvious it becomes.
My methods are precise. My missions, clear. Feeling was never part of the training. And now I'm here, not knowing whether to protect you by staying or leaving.
Do you understand the irony of this?