It was a struggle. His body was heavy, burning with fever, sodden from the cold. Yet somehow I managed to bring him up to my apartment, lay him on the couch, dry him off and treat his wounds. Thank goodness I knew first-aid. It must have been adrenaline, I don't know how I did it. For hours I looked over him, not worrying about the mess I made bringing him up. For hours, I kept changing the towel on his forehead, waiting for his fever to go down. His breathing was uneven, and every time he moved he let out a short grunt of pain. But he was alive.

I was full of questions. Who is he? Where did he come from? Was he a bad guy? Was he running away from someone, and that's why he got hurt? ..Did his eyes really change colour? I studied his face as I wiped the sweat off his forehead. He had silky, long black hair for a man, and pale white skin. A straight nose, and delicate lips. Truly, he looked beautiful, a face made by the gods. I found myself becoming a little jealous of his beauty. Shaking my head to clear my mind, I went back to the kitchen to check on the chicken rice porridge I was making. I hope he wakes up soon.
 

By dawn I found myself waking up at his side. I must have fallen asleep while attending to his wounds. I looked up at the mop and bucket I had prepared. Oh No! The blood! I didn't clean up the blood! I rushed out into the hall with the mop, but the traces of blood from his wounds were gone. Not even a single drop stained the floor. I took the elevator, which was also spotless, and went to the very spot I found him last evening. Gone. Clean, as if he was never bleeding in the first place, there was no trace of blood anywhere. Gone. Suddenly, I turned back to my apartment. Gone. I ran into the apartment, afraid that everything I saw last night was a dream, that he would disappear just like his blood.

*k-cha* I opened the door.

The blanket I put on him lay sprawled on the ground. He was gone.
 

Distraught, I struggled to step forward, when a clatter of noises came from the kitchen. I ran to the kitchen, and he was there, a spoon and some porridge spilled on the ground. He was awake! And hungry! Relief ran through my veins, momentarily forgetting the thoughts of his disappearin