“What the hell just happened…?”
Lucian frowned, stepping out of the hospital with a heavy heart and even heavier thoughts. He had finally made up his mind only to return and find that Rose had already been discharged. The reason? An emergency. Hospital space was urgently needed.
The chaos inside was unmistakable. Patients flooded the hallways some limping, others crying, many carried on stretchers with bloodied clothes and vacant eyes. The receptionist barely had time to look up, offering only a vague explanation:
“A natural disaster. Nearby towns hit hard. We had to make room.”
Lucian stood there, paralyzed by the weight of it all. So much pain. So much need.
He didn’t hesitate.
“Ten million. Treat everyone. No bills. If more’s needed, ask,” he told the director without blinking.
Money wasn’t a concern not for him. Not anymore. Not with what he had. And honestly? Maybe not with what he’d lost.
“I should go check on Rose and the others,” Lucian muttered to himself, sliding into the backseat of a taxi. As he sat down, a long, shaky sigh escaped him.
That thought it had haunted him for a week straight, gnawing at the back of his mind like a wound that refused to scab over.
Is Avey okay?
He turned to stare out the window, the events of that day looping in his head like a cursed tape.
Was I really in the right, Max? I didn’t say too much, right?
Sigh… Lucian exhaled, not expecting a reply.
[You weren’t wrong, host… In fact, she’s done worse to you before. What you did wasn’t even close.]
Max’s voice buzzed in his head, that familiar mechanical timbre offering a strange kind of comfort.
“But I wasn’t trying to get revenge,” Lucian muttered quietly. “I just… I just wanted her to understand. She was confusing pity with love. And that’s not fair to either of us.”
“She was going too far… she wasn’t even thinking about herself anymore. She needed to see it. Face it.”
He rubbed his face with both hands, exhausted.
[But what if she did understand, Host? What if she actually loved you and it wasn’t pity at all? You think people put in that much effort out of guilt? She didn’t just show up. She fought. That means something.]
Max’s voice, though mechanical, was insistent almost emotional.
Lucian let out a hollow laugh.
“You know our story better than anyone, Max. Don’t start turning it into a joke. Past life I gave her eight more years. Eight… and she still didn’t get it. What makes you think she will now this fast?”
“I’m tired of dreaming. I know the difference between guilt and love. I’ve lived it.”
Max let out a dry, robotic chuckle more like a glitch than a laugh. [“Heh… I wish you believed that, Host.”]
He paused, letting the silence stretch. [“You wouldn’t even notice it if someone loved you. Not even when they ask you point-blank to marry them. Not even when they lower their head in front of the Whole world and admit they’re pregnant with your child.”]
His tone turned sharp, almost scolding [“People don’t do that out of guilt, Host. No one humiliates themselves for sympathy. Your read on human nature is broken, Host. I’ve seen it more clearly than you ever could.”]
Lucian didn’t answer.
Max’s voice trailed off, but the silence that followed was loud louder than anything.
Max:
[“What about that Celestia girl? What’s your take on her, Host? Let’s say you finally let go of Avey really let go. Then what? Celestia’s never hurt you. Not in this life, not in the one before. Honestly… she might be the perfect girl for you. In some ways… maybe even better than Avey.”]
Lucian didn’t reply immediately.
Max:
[“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. Even a blind man could see it how obsessed she is with you.”]
Lucian exhaled slowly, almost like he was trying to let the thought pass with his breath.
“She… I don’t know what to feel about her.” His voice was low, uncertain.
“She’s beautiful. Intelligent. Thoughtful, even deeply caring. Independent. Incredibly self-aware for herself and for others. Honestly, she’s… she’s pretty amazing. There’s nothing wrong with her. She’s not bad. Not at all.”
She’s perfect
He paused, his expression clouding with something like regret.
“If she had met me before Avey… maybe we’d be living different lives right now. Maybe something would’ve happened. Maybe something could still happen.”
Another pause, longer this time.
“But I know why she’s drawn to me. It’s not love not really.” He ran a hand through his hair, clearly conflicted.
“It’s because I’m better than her at hacking. That’s the spark. That’s what pulled her in. She admires me, sure. I won’t deny that. Maybe even idolizes me a little. Calls it love. Talks about marrying me like it’s already decided.”
He looked away, expression unreadable.
“But that’s not love. That’s obsession. That’s competition disguised as affection. She’s caught up in the chase trying to surpass me, prove something to herself. And I just happen to be the standard she set. That can’t be love… right?”
Max’s voice resonated calmly but firmly within Lucian’s consciousness, no longer just a thought but a presence with weight.
[“Isn’t that correct, Host? What exactly is the issue here?”]
He paused, then continued in that controlled, deliberate tone Max had mastered.
[“Love regardless of how people romanticize it always begins with a spark. Sometimes it’s physical attraction. Sometimes it’s admiration. Wealth. Wit. Shared pain. A well-timed moment of connection. A glance. A laugh. A challenge.”]
[“That spark? It’s not superficial. It’s the ignition point. And once ignited, love evolves. It grows. It deepens. That’s what people fail to understand it’s not about where it starts. It’s about where it’s allowed to go.”]
Lucian didn’t respond, but Max felt the hesitation the resistance behind his silence.
[“You’re dismissing Celestia’s feelings as if their origin invalidates their depth. As if her admiration, or yes obsession is somehow unworthy of being called love.”]
Max’s voice softened
[“But perhaps the problem isn’t with her feelings. Perhaps it’s with your own inability to receive them. You claim to understand love, yet you disqualify it the moment it doesn’t arrive dressed in your expectations.”]
Another silence followed. Heavy. Personal.
Max closed in. One final strike.
[“Stop searching for love that arrives perfectly packaged, Host. Love doesn’t concern itself with appearances. It only demands the courage to nurture what’s real even if it began in chaos, or competition, or something you don’t fully understand.”]
Lucian exhaled slowly, finally speaking but his tone was restrained, cold. Like someone tired of being told to feel.
“Love… it’s a gamble, Max. A beautifully dressed risk wrapped in fragile illusions.”
He turned his gaze inward, voice quiet but resolute.
“People like to call it noble. Selfless. Some higher form of existence. But at its core, it’s volatility. One second, it uplifts you. The next, it burns everything you’ve built including yourself.”
“You want to talk about sparks? Sparks cause fires, Max. Fires don’t ask for permission they consume.”
His hands flexed slightly, restrained tension.
“Love demands vulnerability. It asks you to place your most sacred parts your fears, your hope, your soul into someone else’s hands. And for what?”
He eyes cold. “For a feeling that doesn’t guarantee anything. No return. No certainty. Just… potential. And you think that’s worth the risk?”
Lucian’s voice dropped lower, bitter. “I’ve seen what love does to people. It doesn’t strengthen them. It breaks them. It makes warriors hesitate. It makes kings kneel. It turns clarity into chaos. Love doesn’t build men it undoes them.”
“It’s a liability, Max. A dangerous one.” He didn’t look up just stared at nothing, as if replaying every scar burned into him.
“People speak of it like it’s divine. Like it’s some priceless gift.” He let out a humorless laugh. “But no one talks about the cost. The erosion. How it eats away at you slowly subtly until one day, you wake up and realize there’s nothing left of who you were.”
A pause, then sharper: “Tell me, Max what’s the profit of love? What does it leave you with in the end? Memories? Regret? A broken mind and a haunted heart?”
He turned his head slightly, expression unreadable.
“Because that’s what it gave me.”
“I loved once. I gave everything I had. My time, my trust, my future… even the parts of myself I swore I’d protect.”
“Didn’t you see what it did to me?” he sighed, eyes distant.
“How it tore through my life… every single time.”
Again’ and again everytime
His voice grew colder. “And all it did was unravel me. Piece by piece. Over and over. Until there was nothing left but silence and a name I couldn’t say without bleeding.”
His gaze steeled.
“So no. I don’t think love is beautiful. I don’t think it’s sacred. And if it is, then maybe it was never meant for someone like me.”
He exhaled hard, jaw tightening.”I’m not the hero in this story, Max. I never was. I’m not the one who gets the happy ending. I’m just the aftermath.”
—