Akira Lykos had stormed into Everveil Group's security gig with a plan hotter than a summer grill. The second he clocked Lugh Everveil waltzing in to snag a bodyguard, his heart did a backflip.
"Jackpot!" he thought, practically tripping over himself to volunteer. This was his golden ticket—lurk by Lugh's side, bide his time, and strike when the iron was hot. Revenge was calling, and Akira was ready to RSVP.
Lugh, lounging in the security hall like a king surveying his court, beamed at the two hands shooting up.
"Well, well—two eager beavers! I'm tickled pink!" he chirped, his grin wide enough to light the room. "Names, gents?"
The first stepped forward, a hulking figure with a face like weathered coal.
"Sir, I'm Bryce Talon!" he boomed, all stern and steady.
The security manager piped up, mustache twitching with pride.
"Bryce is a vet—five, six years with us, knows the ropes like his own shadow. Loyal as a hound, never flubs a job!"
Lugh nodded, impressed. Then his eyes slid to the second guy—Akira Lykos, standing tall in his crisp uniform, radiating a quiet storm.
"And you?"
"Sir, I'm Akira Lykos!" he declared, voice firm and eyes glinting with something Lugh couldn't quite place.
The manager jumped in again.
"Akira's our new blood—green, but holy smokes, can he fight! Took on our whole crew and left 'em eating dust. A one-man wrecking ball!"
"Oh?" Lugh's brows shot up, intrigue sparking. "A scrapper, huh?"
"Top-tier brawler—nobody gets close!" the manager gushed, then leaned in, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial hush. "Thing is, he's fresh off the boat—background's a blank slate. Haven't dug into him yet."
Lugh waved it off with a laugh.
"Suspicion's for suckers! He's here, he's in—he's betting on us, so we'll roll out the red carpet!"
He sauntered over to Akira, clapping a hand on his shoulder with a grin.
"You're a gem, kid! Stick with me—while I'm chowing on steak, you'll at least sip some broth!"
"Yes, thank you, sir!" Akira's pulse raced, excitement bubbling like soda. "Too easy—step one, check!"
Revenge was a dish best served close-up, and he was already plating it.
Lugh's smile softened, all chummy vibes.
"We're family now—no 'sir' stuff. Call me Vice President Lugh!"
"Yes, Vice President Lugh!" Akira belted, chest puffed like a peacock.
Lugh spun to Bryce, not leaving him out.
"You're ace too, big guy—I've got my eye on you! Hang tight, and when I level up and snag another bodyguard slot, you're mine!"
"Thank you, sir!" Bryce grinned, practically glowing as he shuffled back to the ranks.
___
Lugh led Akira into his swanky office, all glass walls and leather vibes, strutting like he owned the skyline—which, technically, he kinda did.
Akira trailed behind, cool as a cucumber, no hint of the wildfire blazing in his chest.
Then—bam—his eyes landed on a figure that nearly stopped his heart.
Aiselle Starlight stood there, all curves and confidence, her purple blouse popping like a firework.
Akira's jaw tightened. "Her!" In his last life, this vixen had been Lugh's scheming sidekick, dishing out plans that sank Akira's dreams faster than a lead balloon.
Without her meddling, he might've held the line.
"Not this time, lady—I'm onto you!"
But wait—rewind. She was here early, tied to Jessica Snow's drama, not Lugh's loyal lapdog yet.
Their vibe was frosty, all snips and snarks.
Akira's gears turned. "If I flip her to my side, Lugh's toast even faster!"
Plus—hot damn—she was a stunner, rivaling his lost flame, Flame Gheata.
Picturing her in his arms? Oh, that'd be a victory sweeter than honey.
Aiselle, oblivious to Akira's scheming, slapped a stack of papers on Lugh's desk.
"Here's the lowdown on Everveil Investment—sorted, red flags marked. Feast your eyes!"
Lugh snatched it with a grin.
"Sweet—now whip me up a coffee, Starbie!"
She rolled her eyes so hard they nearly spun out.
"I'm your work secretary, not your barista—find someone else to brew your bean juice!"
Lugh blinked, mock-wounded. "…"
Aiselle's gaze flicked to Akira, sizing him up in his security getup.
"This your new muscle?"
Lugh puffed up, proud as a peacock.
"Yep—handsome, right?"
Akira straightened, flashing his best smolder, all chiseled jaw and steely eyes.
Aiselle nodded, smirking.
"Not bad. Your pick, huh? Looks like a mutt—fits you perfect!"
Akira's smolder crashed. "…Ouch."
Lugh laughed, unfazed, slugging Akira's arm.
"Don't sweat it, bro—my new secretary's got claws! She's a spitfire—doesn't even blink at a big shot like me!"
"No worries, Vice President Lugh—I'm tough-skinned!" Akira boomed, grinning wide.
Inside? He was cackling. This spat was gold—Lugh and Aiselle were oil and water, and his plan just got juicier.
"Cool, you're free 'til I holler!" Lugh said, waving him off.
"Yes, Vice President Lugh!" Akira saluted, stepping back.
Lugh flipped through the files, skimming with a hum. Same old, same old—his past-life intel matched up.
By 2 p.m., he was done, packing up and strutting out the door.
Aiselle, perched at her desk, clocked him leaving.
"Mr. Everveil, where you off to?"
"Hospital run!" he called, all breezy.
Her ears perked at "hospital"—Jessica Snow's turf.
"Hold up—I'm tagging along!" she shouted, hopping up.
Akira, ever the dutiful shadow, fell in step behind them, his mind racing with delicious possibilities.