"It's back again!" Lugh Everveil groaned, his voice dripping with theatrical exasperation.
In the heart of a lavish office, adorned with sleek furniture and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a bustling cityscape, stood a young man who could only be described as unfairly handsome.
Lugh Everveil, a sprightly 20-year-old with tousled dark hair and eyes that sparkled with mischief, leaned back in his leather chair, spinning a pen between his fingers.
He wasn't just any rich kid—he was a transmigrated soul, dropped into a world stitched together from countless urban web novels.
And his role? The prodigal villain, destined to be a punching bag for the story's oh-so-righteous protagonist.
Lugh's life, by all accounts, was a mess of his own making—or rather, the original Lugh's making.
He'd been the type to beg his wealthy parents for cash, squander it on frivolous nonsense, and stir up trouble like it was his full-time job.
His favorite pastime? Chasing after the story's leading lady, Jessica Snow, only to get his face metaphorically—and sometimes literally—smacked by the leading man.
A classic tale of a villain spiraling from petty rivalry to full-blown insanity, ending up drooling in a padded cell while the hero rode off into the sunset.
A predictable, overdone plot straight out of a bargain-bin paperback.
But Lugh wasn't the original Lugh.
No, this version had arrived with a cheat code: the Wishing System.
A shiny little gimmick that promised to grant one wish per day, tailored just for him.
It sounded like a dream come true—until you read the fine print.
First, only one wish a day.
Second, it had to be for himself, no wishing for world peace or his dog's happiness.
Third, it couldn't break the laws of reality—no immortality or summoning dragons in a city setting—and it only lasted 24 hours.
Still, it was a game-changer.
Armed with this system and a knack for outsmarting the script, Lugh had turned the tables in his first go-around.
He'd toyed with the protagonists, dismantled their grand plans, and accidentally became the ultimate villain, leaving the world's storyline in shambles.
Heaven—or whatever passed for it in this narrative—didn't take kindly to that.
So, it hit the reset button, rewound the plot, and slapped a curse on him for good measure.
Now, every wish Lugh made came with a twist: his enemies got double the reward.
Wish for a million bucks? The protagonist gets two million.
Wish for a killer haircut? The hero's locks become twice as lustrous.
It was a cosmic prank designed to keep him as the eternal stepping stone, no matter how clever he got.
Lugh smirked, leaning forward with a glint in his eye.
"Oh, they think they can outwit me with this? Adorable."
The office door swung open with a dramatic flair, revealing a woman who could stop traffic with a single glance.
Curves that defied physics, glasses perched on her nose like a librarian from a fantasy novel, and an air of professionalism that screamed "I'm too good for this place."
She was Lugh's assistant, and she carried a tablet like it was a sacred artifact.
"Young Master Lugh," she said, her voice smooth as velvet, "Miss Jessica from Snow Enterprises has invited you to dinner at the Klarian Restaurant at 8 p.m. Your thoughts?"
Jessica Snow.
The first heroine of this recycled tale.
A woman so stunning she could make a saint reconsider his vows, and sharp enough to run a multi-million-dollar company without breaking a sweat.
Her family owned a chain of hospitals, and right now, they were in a bind—old equipment needed replacing, but their bank account was coughing up dust.
Lugh's family, conveniently, dealt in medical tech.
Jessica's plan? Charm him over dinner, secure a deal on credit, and keep her business afloat.
In the original story, this dinner was where it all began.
Lugh met Jessica, fell head over heels, and promptly got his ego crushed by the protagonist.
Cue the rivalry, the face-slapping, and the slow descent into madness.
But this Lugh? He'd already danced this dance.
He'd played the game, won, and now it was time for round two.
"Tell her I'll be there," he said, grinning like a kid about to raid a candy store.
"This is going to be fun."
"Yes, Young Master Lugh," his assistant replied, tapping away at her tablet with the efficiency of a machine.
At precisely 8 p.m., Lugh strutted into the Klarian Restaurant, a swanky joint with ocean-blue decor and a menu that cost more than most people's rent.
The hostess led him to a private booth where Jessica Snow awaited, and—oh boy—was she a sight to behold.
Even after seeing her in his past life, Lugh couldn't help but pause.
At 5'8", Jessica was a vision of elegance, her slender frame wrapped in a crisp white suit that hugged her curves just right.
Her skin glowed like porcelain, her delicate features framed by a cascade of midnight-black hair that fell past her shoulders.
She exuded sophistication, the kind that made lesser men trip over their own feet.
Jessica, meanwhile, was sizing him up too.
Lugh Everveil, the infamous playboy with a face so pretty it bordered on criminal.
Clean-shaven, with a refreshing charm and eyes that sparkled with something suspiciously close to kindness.
This wasn't the reckless, arrogant fool she'd heard about.
Was the gossip wrong, or was he just that good at hiding his true self?
She brushed the thought aside as they exchanged pleasantries.
"My apologies, Miss Snow," Lugh said, sliding into the booth with a sheepish grin. "I'm a tad late."
Jessica's lips curved into a polite smile. "No worries, I just got here myself. I haven't ordered yet—what's your fancy?"
"Guest's choice," he replied, waving a hand magnanimously.
"You're too kind. It's my treat, though—let's order something nice."
Lugh couldn't dodge her insistence, so he grabbed the menu with a flourish.
"Alright, let's see… Waiter! One filet mignon, medium rare, a side of foie gras, and two cups of hot black tea."
Jessica blinked, her perfectly arched brows lifting. "Wait a sec—those are all my favorites. How'd you know?"
Lugh chuckled inwardly. Because I've got your playbook memorized, darling.
In his first run, he'd known her inside and out—every quirk, every preference, down to the exact number of sugar cubes she liked (none, she was a purist).
But since this was a fresh start, he couldn't exactly admit that.
"Pure luck," he said, flashing a dazzling smile. "Guess I'm just that good."
She laughed, a melodic sound that danced through the air. "Impressive guesswork! Though you missed one detail—I usually go for iced black tea."
"Your stomach's been acting up lately," he countered smoothly. "Hot's better for you right now."
Her eyes narrowed slightly, intrigued. "And how'd you figure that out? Another lucky guess?"
"Nope, observation this time." Lugh leaned back, adopting a mock-scholarly tone.
"Dark circles under your eyes, dry lips, and you're bundled up in a coat despite the AC being a cozy 27 degrees. Plus, you've been rubbing your stomach like it's a grumpy cat. Verdict? Irregular meals and late nights are staging a revolt in there."
Jessica's jaw dropped just a fraction before she recovered, her gaze sharpening with curiosity.
"You're full of surprises. What are you, a doctor in disguise?"
"Just a guy who pays attention," he said with a humble shrug, though his smirk betrayed his pride.
As their food arrived—steaming plates of succulent steak and creamy foie gras—the conversation flowed like fine wine.
Jessica couldn't believe her ears.
This wasn't the spoiled brat she'd been warned about.
Lugh was a walking contradiction: charming, witty, and absurdly knowledgeable.
Ask him about medicine? He'd rattle off symptoms and remedies like a seasoned pro.
Economics? He'd dissect market trends with the precision of a Wall Street shark.
Entertainment? He knew every blockbuster's plot twist before the trailers dropped.
It was maddening.
She, with her dual master's degrees, felt like a student in his presence.
How did this guy, rumored to be a brainless rich kid, outshine her at every turn?
Lugh caught her bewildered expression and hid a grin.
In his last life, he'd wished for superhuman learning skills, devouring every subject under the sun.
Reborn or not, that knowledge stuck with him.
He was a living, breathing encyclopedia—and he loved watching people squirm when they realized it.
"So," Jessica said, twirling her fork with a playful glint, "everyone says you're some reckless troublemaker. But here you are, charming and brilliant. What's the real story?"
"Maybe I'm just a misunderstood genius," he quipped, sipping his tea.
"Or maybe I'm so good at being bad, it loops back around to awesome."
She laughed again, shaking her head. "You're impossible."
"And you're delightful," he shot back, winking.
The banter continued, light and effortless, as the restaurant buzzed around them.
Jessica couldn't shake the feeling that Lugh was more than he let on—a puzzle she wanted to solve.
And Lugh? He was having the time of his life, playing the game he'd already mastered once before.
But beneath the fun, he knew the stakes.
That curse loomed over him like a pesky raincloud.
Every wish he made would empower his rival twice over.
Tonight wasn't just a dinner—it was the opening move in a chess match with fate.
And Lugh Everveil wasn't about to lose.
"Round two's just getting started," he mused to himself, raising his teacup in a silent toast.
"Let's see who's laughing when the credits roll."