If there was one thing Alexander Kazafi had learned over the past few days, it was this:
Vladimir Volkov did not know how to behave like a normal patient.
At all.
"Why is he… standing again?" a nurse whispered from behind the counter, clutching a clipboard like it might protect her from imminent danger.
Alexander didn't even need to look.
He already knew.
Because, of course, Vladimir Volkov—6'11, built like a war machine, feared across continents—was currently leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed, casually observing the hospital like he owned it.
Alexander closed his eyes for a brief moment.
Patience, he reminded himself.
Then he walked straight toward the giant problem.
"Mr. Volkov."
Vladimir turned, his sharp gray eyes lighting up slightly at the sight of him. "Doctor."
Alexander crossed his arms. "Care to explain why you are not in your bed?"
Vladimir tilted his head slightly, as if genuinely considering the question. "I was bored."
Alexander stared at him.
"…You were bored."
"Yes."
"So you decided to leave your ward."
"Yes."
"And walk around the hospital."
"Yes."
"And terrify the staff."
Vladimir paused, then glanced toward the nurse station, where three nurses immediately ducked out of sight.
"…That part was unintentional."
Alexander let out a slow breath.
"I told you yesterday," he said calmly, "no wandering."
"I remember," Vladimir replied, unbothered. "But I also remember you saying recovery requires comfort."
Alexander blinked. "That's not what I meant."
Vladimir's lips curved into a faint, almost playful smirk. "Interpretation varies."
Alexander stared at him for a long moment… then did something that made every nearby nurse freeze in shock.
He reached up—
And flicked Vladimir lightly on the forehead.
"Interpret this," Alexander said flatly. "Back. To. Bed."
The hallway went silent.
A bodyguard at the far end nearly dropped his phone.
Vladimir… blinked.
For a moment, the feared mafia king looked genuinely stunned.
Then—
A low chuckle escaped him.
"…You just hit me."
"I did," Alexander replied calmly. "And I will do it again if you don't listen."
The chuckle deepened, turning into a soft, rumbling laugh that seemed completely out of place for someone like him.
"You're… very brave, doctor."
"I'm very tired," Alexander corrected. "Now move."
Surprisingly—
Vladimir obeyed.
Not immediately, of course. He took his time, stretching slightly, rolling his shoulders, and walking beside Alexander at a leisurely pace.
But he did return.
Which, in itself, was a miracle.
The moment they entered the ward, the nurses collectively exhaled in relief.
One of them whispered, "He listens to him…"
Another nodded. "Doctor Kazafi is the only one who can control him…"
Alexander pretended not to hear.
Vladimir, however, heard everything.
And for some reason, he didn't mind.
Back in the room, Alexander checked his vitals with practiced ease.
"Your condition is improving," he said, adjusting the IV line. "If you continue like this, you'll be discharged in a few days."
Vladimir leaned back against the pillows, watching him closely.
"A few days, huh…" he murmured.
Alexander nodded. "Yes. Why? In a hurry to leave?"
Vladimir didn't answer immediately.
Instead, his gaze lingered on Alexander's face—the soft features, the calm expression, the way his hazel-green eyes focused so carefully on his work.
"…Not particularly," he said at last.
Alexander paused slightly, then continued writing on his clipboard.
"Good," he replied. "Because you're not leaving until I say so."
Vladimir's lips curved faintly.
"Of course, doctor."
The rest of the day should have been peaceful.
It wasn't.
Because Vladimir Volkov had decided—apparently—that if he couldn't leave the ward…
He would entertain himself.
"Doctor."
Alexander didn't look up. "No."
"I haven't said anything yet."
"You don't need to. The answer is still no."
Vladimir leaned slightly closer. "What if it's a reasonable request?"
Alexander sighed, finally looking at him. "Fine. What is it?"
"I want coffee."
"…No."
"Why not?"
"Because caffeine will interfere with your recovery."
Vladimir frowned slightly. "That sounds like a weak excuse."
"That sounds like medical advice."
Vladimir considered this.
Then—
"What about tea?"
"…No."
"Juice?"
"No."
"Water?"
Alexander blinked. "…You already have water."
Vladimir glanced at the glass beside him.
"…That's unfortunate."
Alexander stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head.
"You're unbelievable."
"And yet," Vladimir said smoothly, "you're still here."
Alexander huffed quietly, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
Later that afternoon, something unexpected happened.
Alexander was helping another patient down the hallway when he heard a familiar voice behind him.
"Careful."
He turned—
And froze.
Vladimir was standing behind an elderly man, one massive hand gently steadying his shoulder to keep him from losing balance.
The old man looked completely unfazed.
In fact, he was smiling.
"Thank you, young man," the patient said kindly.
Vladimir nodded slightly. "Watch your step."
Alexander blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"…You're helping patients now?" he asked.
Vladimir glanced at him, expression calm. "He looked like he needed it."
Alexander stared at him, something warm blooming in his chest.
"That's… very kind of you."
Vladimir shrugged, though there was a faint softness in his eyes. "Don't make a big deal out of it."
Alexander smiled gently.
"I will," he said. "Because it is one."
For a brief moment, something shifted in Vladimir's expression.
Something quieter.
Something… almost shy.
That evening, the hospital felt different.
Lighter.
Softer.
And for reasons no one could quite explain, less terrifying.
Alexander finished his rounds and stepped back into Vladimir's room, only to find him unusually quiet.
"No trouble today?" Alexander asked, raising an eyebrow.
Vladimir smirked faintly. "I was… behaving."
Alexander crossed his arms. "Badly."
"Moderately."
"Barely."
Vladimir chuckled softly.
"…Fair enough."
Alexander walked closer, checking his bandages.
"You did well today," he said quietly.
Vladimir stilled slightly.
"…I did?"
Alexander nodded. "Helping that patient. Listening—somewhat. Not scaring too many nurses."
"That last one is debatable."
Alexander smiled.
"Still counts."
There was a pause.
A quiet, comfortable one.
Then Vladimir spoke again, his voice lower this time.
"Doctor… do you always treat people like this?"
Alexander glanced at him. "Like what?"
"Like they matter."
Alexander didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
Vladimir looked at him for a long moment.
Then, softly—
"…That's dangerous."
Alexander blinked. "Dangerous?"
"For someone like me," Vladimir said. "Getting used to that kind of treatment… it makes you want things you shouldn't."
Alexander's heart skipped slightly.
"And what is it you want?" he asked gently.
Vladimir's gaze locked onto his.
Something deep.
Something intense.
But instead of answering directly, he simply said—
"…Rest."
Alexander stared at him for a second, then shook his head with a soft sigh.
"Good answer."
But his heart didn't quite believe it.
As Alexander turned to leave, Vladimir spoke one last time.
"Doctor."
Alexander paused at the door. "Yes?"
Vladimir's voice was quieter than usual.
"…Stay a little longer."
Alexander hesitated.
Just for a moment.
Then—
"…Only for a few minutes," he said.
Vladimir smiled faintly.
And for the first time in years, the devil didn't feel alone.