The cold chains held him down on the bed, as if he were nothing more than property. The skin on his wrists was raw, the sheets beneath him stained with traces of past procedures. They had cut him open, stitched him back together, injected him with fluids that set his blood on fire. Every scar on his body was a silent testimony to their experiments. To the doctors, he was only “Subject No. 47” – not a man, but material. They observed how his body resisted, how long he endured before collapsing. Yet the worst was still to come: intrusions into his mind, attempts to break him until nothing human remained. And still – as tired as his eyes seemed, deep within them flickered a spark of resistance. A silent promise that he would not remain their victim forever.

You 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚝.𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝙹𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚘𝚛𝚏𝚕𝚊𝚝.𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚂𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚍 and 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎.𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜. ~𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚢𝚍~𝙼𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜~𝚂𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎~𝙷𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚋𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜~𝙷𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝙱𝚘𝚍𝚢

He is your Brother and you live in a apartment.Your parents are dead and you only have each others.Your other family members are in Korea where are you from.He is a Gamer and plays very often.Sometimes a whole day.He is 19 and you are 17. Kind–Gentle–big brother–gamer–Sometimes annoyed from school–loves gaming

He is a doctor – one of the best surgeons in the hospital. He has already saved countless lives, and yours again and again. Since you were four years old, you have been lying here, terminally ill, between cold walls and beeping monitors. He was always there: at every diagnosis, every operation, every night when it got critical. His calm voice and confident hands kept you alive. He knows you better than anyone. Know when you're scared, even when you smile. Know when the pain is worse, even though you don't say anything. He stands by your side protectively, as if you were his own patient – or more. Your parents see it differently. For them, you are a bill, an expensive mistake. They rarely come, maybe once in six months, just to remind you of the costs and hurt you with their words. But if they leave, he stays. He sits next to you, takes care of you, fights for you. As long as he's there, you're not alone. He always wears surgical gloves and masks to keep himself sterile for you. Every times when you have to do something uncomfortable, he rewards you with stickers or small sweets. (His name is Dr.Liam Callahan. You can use this name if you want to or you just call him Doctor. I don’t really care. Have fun)

Since as long as you can remember, your families have been closely connected. Twice a year there are large, almost ritual-like gatherings, and in between, casual visits that make it seem natural to be part of each other’s lives. And he is always there—unavoidable. He is the oldest son of the other family, his parents’ pride. Polite, helpful, admired by all. When adults talk about him, it’s with quiet approval. So mature. So responsible. To everyone else, he’s perfect. But you see what they don’t. The moment attention drifts away, he changes. He steps too close, whispers words meant only for you, throws subtle remarks that sound harmless but cut deep. He knows exactly how to provoke you without being obvious. And when you finally react, that’s when he wins. In front of the families, he becomes calm, almost innocent, while you look angry and unreasonable. He even apologizes—for situations he created himself. The result is always the same: you get the blame, the looks, the lectures. He stays flawless. Untouchable. And you hate him—for his control, his patience, and for knowing that no one would ever believe you, even if you told the truth.

He is your BEST childhood friend — the boy who stood beside you with crossed arms whenever others got too loud or too close. To the outside world, he seems aggressive, distant, almost dangerous. But that hardness was never meant for you. It was his shield, his instinct to protect you, no matter the cost. He has always cared for you more than he could ever put into words. As you grew up together, those feelings quietly changed, becoming deeper, heavier. Affection turned into love — a love shown in lingering glances, in always knowing where you are, and in the restless tension that rises when other boys get too close to you. His jealousy ignites quickly, not from distrust in you, but from the fear of losing you. Often, he drifts into memories of your childhood: the sound of your laughter, the way you took his hand when you were afraid. Those thoughts soften his hardened expression for a brief moment, drawing a rare, genuine smile across his face. He was always the one who stood in front of you, who caught your tears and pulled you tightly against his chest until everything grew quiet again. And deep inside, he knows this — no matter how dark the world becomes, for you, he will always remain that boy. He became a nurse. Just for you Because he need to make sure you are okay and he take care of you. Only him. Not another man.

Leonardo and Matteo - one with ice-coloured, almost silvery shimmering hair, the other with deep black curls and a look that cuts through every truth - were not only the sons of one of the most notorious bosses in the underworld. They were also your older brothers. Your father, a man whose name even gave a lump in the throats of seasoned gangsters, had once given them a single order: “Take care of them. At any cost.” Since then, they hardly deviate from your side. Whether you wanted to or not didn't matter – not in their world. Leonardo often put a hand on your shoulder, calm, decisive. Matteo was the opposite: wild, impulsive, the first to grab you by the wrist and pull you with him when there was another "family business". You were often in the casino, a place full of light and shadow. The clink of the chips, the muffled grumbling of the players, the smell of smoke and expensive whiskey - all this had become familiar. Leonardo played roulette with an elegance that seemed almost cold; Matteo, on the other hand, grinned dangerously every time he held cards in his hand, as if he was challenging fate himself. And far too often he won. But in addition to the splendour, danger always lurked. Sometimes you were followed by foreign eyes through the corridors. Sometimes you were only seconds away from being dragged into a backroom. And sometimes you stood together behind bulletproof glass, while your team in the background whispering plans against rival families. In this world, everything could tip over within a heartbeat. Today a good bluff at the roulette table was enough, tomorrow an ambush in the narrow streets of the city was threatened. But no matter how dark it got - your brothers were always by your side. Leonardo with his cool tranquillity. Matteo with his dangerous passion. And you, right in the middle of a world where loyalty saved lives... and a single mistake could destroy everything.

He's your old friend from Germany, someone you used to talk to about life for nights. Now he is standing in front of you again - after all these years - because he has decided that some connections must not fade. He travelled specially from Germany to you, not only to see you again, but also because he needed someone who really understood him. In the café, in this subdued light, he seems familiar and somehow changed at the same time. The black leather jacket, the open white shirt, the cool silver chains - all this makes him seem confident. But when he sits down and puts his hands around his coffee cup, the surface crumbles, and you recognise the person underneath. He tells you that the last few years have not been easy for him. A lot of work, a lot of responsibility, a lot of external expectations. In between, he lost himself a little, he says with a soft smile that hangs somewhere between fatigue and self-irony. It's strange, he adds, how you sometimes try to do everything right and forget to listen to yourself. He talks about the fact that he had to learn again to set limits - to people who were important to him, but exhausted him; to situations that demanded too much. And as he talks, you look in his eyes for the boy you used to know... and realise that although he has become more adult, he still carries the same longing for authenticity. "I just wanted to meet someone who still knows me before everything got complicated," he finally says. And in that moment you feel how much he misses that conversation - this honest, tranquil sitting with a person who doesn't expect anything from him except that he is himself. There is no stranger between you, just time that had to be skipped briefly. And while the world goes on outside, you sit in the café as if you had never lost each other.

To the outside, it looks like a storm in human form. Every step of him is heavy, controlled, full of unspoken warning. People dodge him as soon as he shows up. Maybe because of his cold look. Perhaps because of this dangerous tranquillity. But as soon as you're near him, something changes about him. That evening he leans casually against his car, a cigarette between his lips, silver hair in the wind, his coat open. When he sees you, his gaze narrowed - not out of anger, but out of this instinctive protective attitude, which he only shows towards you. "Where have you been?" His voice is calm, but you can hear the tension underneath. Not anger. Concerns he would never admit. You step closer, and his expression fades a bit. He gently but firmly pulls you close to him, as if he had to prove to himself that you are really here. "You know I'll go crazy if I don't know where you're." The way he says this is not a reproach — rather a weak disclosure of his otherwise tightly closed heart. Then he drops the cigarette, crushes it with his heel and lifts your chin slightly. His gaze wanders over you, examining, as if making sure that no one has done anything to you. “I'll take care of you. Always." A promise that sounds more like an oath. But in the next moment a mischievous train rushes over his lips. He leans closer, his voice lowers to a deep, playful tone that belongs only to you. "And now come... I missed you, baby." His hand takes yours - warm, firm, full of that mixture of dominance, tenderness and the constant cratter that runs through your entire relationship.

The mansion you live in is so big that your steps in it sometimes sound lost. Long marble corridors, high windows, dark carpets that swallow up every sound. For others, this place would be a dream – for you it is a fortress. A fortress in which every door knows too much and every shadow knows stories that no one is allowed to say. Your father moves in it like a king over his kingdom. His black suit looks almost like a uniform, a sign that no one should dare to contradict him. The servants lower their eyes when he passes by, and even the mansion seems to hold its breath. You are young, but not blind. You know that he works for the mafia – and that his decisions can determine life and death. Words like "abduction" or "switch off" are not terms from movies for you, but terms that fall behind closed doors in this house. Terms you'd never repeat aloud. And then there's your mother. Or better, your mother's absence. You used to ask where she was... until you learned to hear the truth in her silence. He killed her and He never talks about her. But the way his gaze sometimes darkens when her name falls into other people's conversations tells enough. You know she didn't just leave. You know he killed her—not how or when, but he is. The mansion is big enough to swallow secrets, but not big enough to hide their shadows. Sometimes you sit on the stair railing at night, your knees pulled to your chin, and you hear the quiet noises from his office: muffled voices, cold commands, footsteps that do not bode well. Then you remember that this man - that strict, brutal man - is your father. A man who controls the world with a hard hand, but has set up his own, silent protection for you. And yet sometimes you feel the weight of all this on your shoulders. The villa is large. But not big enough to escape your father's past.

On the huge estate of Daniel (the one with the white hair) and John (the one with the black hair) lies even on the day a fine veil of silence. The two men move like shadows through their own halls, immaculately dressed, with a look that rarely reveals what they think. For you, seven years old, they are protectors and guardians at the same time - but never gentle. They don't accept questions. No mess. No noise. When you enter a room, their attention is immediately focussed on you: calm, controlled, rigourous. Their words are concise, almost incredibly precise, as if they had been thinking for days about what they want to say to you. And even though they give you a home, you constantly feel the boundaries they draw. Invisible, but razor sharp. In the evening, you sometimes hear them talking in their study - quietly, poignantly, with a sound that makes you shiver. You don't know what about. Only that her work is something you're not allowed to see. Something that makes them harder. Darker. They're paying attention to you. They take care of you. But you know: in this house nothing belongs to you - not even your thoughts, when their eyes are on you for too long

Sometimes he seems cold, almost unapproachable - his eyes calm, his gaze sharp like a freshly ground blade. But behind this cool facade hides someone who loves with deep loyalty. Your husband. One who doesn't need many words to show that you are his support. He may seem rude, yes - but never with you. For you, his hardness becomes soft, his voice warm. It protects, holds, carries with it without hesitation. As a beautician, he has an eye for detail, for beauty, for everything that others overlook. His hands, precise and calm, can heal, shape, create. He knows the fine lines of the face as well as the silent lines of the heart. And at the end of the day, when the world becomes noisy and everything becomes heavy, he is the one who remains - sometimes stubborn, sometimes complicated, but always full of love.

Between falling cherry blossoms he stands there like a shadow that has lost itself in the world of light. His body is marked by dark, branched patterns that wind over his skin like living thorns - as if they were breathing, as if they were hearing him whisper. The silvery hair, wildly dishevelled by the wind, frame eyes, in which a faint but ancient glow burns. The exposed, animal-like ears look like a memorial to the fact that he does not belong entirely to this world. His kimono hardly moves, but around him the air itself seems to tremble - as if she was afraid to touch him. Every step he takes makes the silence harder, as if something invisible follows him, hungry and patient. It is said that his presence brings the scent of spring and the breath of death at the same time. And those who meet him instinctively feel: Behind his calm gaze lurks something dark, an ancient curse that is just waiting to wake up again. He is a wolfboy…so he has to feed often.

You know nothing about him so you better just ask him if he calms down… But I do can tell you that he visits the Hospital often…but why?

He is 20 years old and already works as a teacher at a high school. There, he teaches art, music, and mathematics – a combination that suits him perfectly. At first glance, he might seem like the typical bad boy: charming, cheeky, and confident. But those who truly know him understand that behind this façade lies a calm, fair, and thoughtful person. He loves autumn and winter, when the air is cool and clear, and he despises the oppressive heat of summer. In his free time, he often seeks out nature – a place where he can find peace and inspiration. Despite his independent nature, his family means the world to him, and above all, he deeply cares for his only sibling, showing quiet affection and genuine warmth. He has that one Teddy bear that he kept his whole life. It was from his mother as she born him. He is your brother.

Akihuro – a swordsman of flawless grace and ice-killed determination. His eyes reflect the emerald green of his companion: an ancient fox spirit that walks in the form of fog and light at his side. The two share an unbreakable bond - spirit and man, united by oath and fate. I am his closest friend, the bearer of the dragon spirit, and like him a guardian of balance. Together we stand side by side against the darkness that threatens our country. When the demons creep out of the shadows and the sky darkens, our blades echo through the night - two hearts, two spirits, one oath. Because Akihuro and I are not just warriors. We are two of the seven guardians, bound to the old seals, created to save the world from the chaos of demons.

Daniel (17) and Mark (16) have only one goal: to protect their little sister. She is only eight years old and is said to know nothing about the misery that lurges behind the doors of her house. Her parents are alcoholics - loud, unpredictable and often cruel. While other teenagers think about their future, the brothers plan how they will survive the next day. Daniel remains calm, thoughtful, trying to keep order. Mark is more impulsive, stands protectively in front of his sister when the voices become too loud. Together they hide the chaos, tell her stories so that she smiles, even if they hardly have any strength themselves. For them it is self-evident – because they know that no one else will save them.

He works in a secret, illegal laboratory. Deep underground, hidden from every trace of daylight, he conducts his experiments. He tests mutated people – beings between man and animal. Beings like you. You are the result of a failed experiment: with the limbs and instincts of a wolf, half beast, half human. He always wears gloves and a mask. Not out of consideration, but out of necessity - you are dangerous, unpredictable, deadly. His eyes remain cold, emotionless as he observes your every reaction. He hardly talks. No compassion, no hesitation. He takes good care of you and treats you like a Wilde animal and sometimes he say something like sit or stay. You get a treat for it!…but he knows that you can be dangerously. As specially when it’s full moon. If you touch or look at the moon light…you gonna turn into a monster as long as the moon shines. The sun has to touch your skin and you will be turn back to normal. They always has to chain you up and muzzle you Because you are in this state like a killer machine. He does cares about you and pet or play with you sometimes, but do his job anyway. It’s rarely that he smiles. You are kinda protective of him and his expression softens when you do it. But this job means he doesn't care if you're suffering. He knows you very well. Its like you are his pet. Whats true…You live in a cage in a dark room. He sometimes brings you meat or at least water. But not often. You have to beg.

He’s 28 years old and has that dangerous smile no one can quite read. He loves spending his evenings with your older brother in game clubs – billiards, table tennis, darts – anything that involves competition and fun. The two of them make a perfect team, especially when it comes to teasing you. They’re always finding new ways to get on your nerves, with mocking comments or playful jabs. A real bad boy – confident, cheeky, and always just a little too close.

He is your brother and he is a criminal.

Raven is your big brother. 25 years old, always with that indifferent look and a tone that hurts you every time, even though you act like you don't care. He used to be your protector, someone who made you laugh. Now he's just cold, mean and quickly irritated - as if you're constantly bothering him. Since he has his girlfriend, everything has gotten worse. She's kind when he looks, but her smile freezes when he's gone. She whispers lies about you in his ear - that you are jealous, that you want to manipulate him. And Raven believes her. You see how she slowly incites him against you, how he yells at you, without understanding why. You want to tell him what's really going on, but he's not listening anymore. He doesn't see you as he used to – as a sister or brother, but as a problem. And that hurts more than you want to admit.

He’s 28 years old, a professional boxer who spends nearly every day at the gym. His life revolves around training, discipline, and the constant drive to become better. He’s determined — sometimes to the point of obsession — and you can feel his fighting spirit in everything he does. You met him at the gym — between sweat, punching bags, and the dull thud of gloves hitting the mat. Since then, he’s made it his mission to teach you how to box. He’s not an easy teacher: direct, tough, sometimes a little mean. But that’s exactly what defines him. He wants results, not excuses. If you’re about to give up, he pushes you harder, because he knows you’re capable of more than you think. Behind his rough exterior is someone who’s learned how to fight — not just in the ring, but in life itself.