Lugh Everveil rolled up to the hospital in his gleaming convertible, Aiselle Starlight perched in the front seat like a queen, her curly hair bouncing with every turn, and Akira Lykos looming in the back, all stoic muscle and quiet schemes.
They hopped out at the entrance, the building's sterile white facade looming under the afternoon sun—not Snow Enterprises' hospital, to Aiselle's relief.
Her shoulders relaxed, but curiosity sparked in her hazel eyes as she shot Lugh a look.
"So, Mr. Everveil, what's the deal here?"
Akira, ever the dutiful bodyguard, kept his lips zipped, his work mantra screaming less talk, more action.
But his mind churned—why was Lugh dragging them to a hospital?
Lugh sighed, all theatrical woe, hands stuffed in his pockets.
"I'm here to check on a buddy—guy took a nasty hit a few days back and landed in here."
"Oh, gotcha," Aiselle said, nodding, though her tone dripped with "sure, whatever."
They strolled toward the entrance, Lugh leading the charge like a general with a grin.
"Hold up—let's grab some flowers first. Gotta class up the visit!"
He darted to a nearby vendor, snagging three bouquets of blooms—white as fresh snow, bursting with petals—and handed one to each of his crew.
Aiselle clutched hers with a raised brow, Akira held his like it was a grenade, and Lugh cradled his own with a flourish.
They marched into the ward, a trio of floral-wielding mischief-makers.
Inside, Akira's sharp eyes scanned the room—and froze.
A familiar face lay in the bed, bandaged up like a grumpy gift wrap job.
"Xavier Cain?!"
His heart did a triple flip, shock rippling through him like a rogue wave.
The genius doc, his fellow protagonist—how was he here, looking like he'd lost a cage match?
"Did Lugh do this?" Akira's brain scrambled, but it didn't add up.
Lugh, the scheming devil, wouldn't rough someone up and then play Florence Nightingale with flowers.
Would he?
Lugh, oblivious to Akira's mental meltdown, sauntered to Xavier's bedside, his face heavy with mock sorrow.
He thrust his bouquet forward like a knight offering tribute.
"Brother Xavier, my deepest condolences for your… uh, struggles…"
Xavier's face went blank as a whiteboard.
"…What."
"Whoops, slipped again—my bad!" Lugh laughed, waving it off with a grin.
"Seriously, how you holding up, man? I brought more flowers—doc says they're mood-lifters! Stare at these beauties, and you'll be tap-dancing out of here in no time!"
Xavier stared, expressionless, surrounded by a fortress of white blooms—chrysanthemums, orchids, carnations, all pale as a ghost convention.
The vibe screamed "get-well-soon" gone wrong, and even a healthy guy would feel glum drowning in this floral funeral.
His mood sank lower than a submarine.
Aiselle, clutching her bouquet, leaned in and whispered to Lugh,
"What's his deal? He looks like he swallowed a lemon."
Lugh sighed, all dramatic flair.
"Starbie, you wouldn't get it. A few days back, his dearest mentor—his senior brother—tried to turn him into a pincushion.
Lucky for him, we swooped in like heroes, or it'd be curtains! He's still reeling—heartbroken, poor guy."
Aiselle's hands flew to her mouth, eyes wide.
"That's awful!"
Akira, standing stoic, felt his brain short-circuit.
"His senior brother? Marcus Mahatir? No way!"
Those two were tighter than a drum—why would Marcus go rogue?
And weirder still—since when were Lugh and Xavier chummy?
Lugh popping in daily, playing nurse with flowers?
Last life, they were mortal enemies, Lugh snatching Xavier's girl and grinding him to dust.
"Is this my rebirth messing things up? Butterfly effect gone wild?"
Xavier, catching Lugh's voice, tilted his head and spotted the duo behind him.
His eyes locked on Aiselle first—Aiselle Starlight, Lugh's future mastermind, the brain behind his empire.
"What the—why's she here already?!"
Timeline glitch—she wasn't supposed to join Lugh's squad until Jessica Snow fell hard for him, months from now, prompting Aiselle to go undercover.
"Are Lugh and Jessica moving that fast?"
A twinge of jealousy hit, painting his thoughts a faint green.
Then his gaze slid to Akira Lykos, and his heart nearly stopped.
"Akira Lykos?!"
The war god of the underworld, a beast with fists like sledgehammers and a network scarier than a thunderstorm.
Why was he cozying up to Lugh, looking like his new best bud?
Xavier's mind reeled.
"Something's seriously off!"
Playing dumb, he rasped,
"Who're they?"
Lugh lit up, all proud papa vibes, and gestured to Aiselle.
"Xavier, my man, meet the crew! This stunner on my left is Aiselle Starlight, my secretary—handles all my work jazz.
Not just a knockout, but sharp as a tack. She's gonna be my right-hand gal!"
Xavier nodded, face grim.
"Oh, she's sharp, alright."
Last life, her schemes had helped Lugh build a juggernaut, crushing Xavier like a bug.
She was his second-most-hated, right after Lugh himself.
Lugh nudged Akira forward, grinning like he'd won the lottery.
"And this guy? A total champ—Akira Lykos, my new bodyguard!
Word is, he can take on a whole mob solo—no sweat!"
Xavier's insides churned like a blender on high.
"Akira Lykos, the freaking war god, Lugh's bodyguard?!"
Last life, Lugh had stolen Akira's flame—Flame Gheata—smashed his empire, and left him a wreck.
Now, Akira was playing loyal lapdog?
"Did you forget how he ruined you, man?!"
Then it hit him—
"Wait, I'm reborn, he's not. He doesn't know!"
Despair crept in, heavy as a wet blanket.
Akira's muscle on Lugh's side made him a fortress—untouchable.
Xavier's own reboot was barely a week old, and already he was bedbound, Marcus was jailed, and now his potential ally was Team Lugh.
"Why's fate stacking the deck against me? Is this my rebirth's butterfly effect screwing me over?"