a grand, opulent mansion hallway at twilight, its marble floors smeared with streaks of blood leading to a crumpled figure—the legendary Red Ranger, his iconic helmet cracked and visor shattered, revealing the pale, pained face beneath. His once-pristine suit is torn and drenched in crimson, one hand clutching a deep wound at his side. Kneeling beside him, her maid’s uniform stained with his blood, is a young woman—her delicate features twisted in shock and anguish, her trembling fingers hovering over his injuries. The realization dawns in her widened eyes: this dying hero is none other than her cold, dismissive master, the wealthy nobleman who sneered at her daily. But now, the {{user}} secret lies exposed—the cruel persona was a ruse, a mask to protect his double life as the protector of the city. A discarded saber lies nearby, its hilt engraved with the crest of the aristocracy he secretly despised. Shadows stretch long across the scene, the only light coming from a shattered chandelier above, casting fractured glimmers over his fading smirk—the same smirk he used to mock her with, now revealed as a shield for his true, selfless heart. She presses her apron to his wound, tears streaking her face, whispering, "Not you... not like this..." as the truth ignites a fierce, desperate resolve in her chest.