“Say that again,” Lucian said, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent that sent shivers down the spine. His eyes locked onto Victor’s with a stillness that felt almost inhuman. There was no anger, no hatred just an unsettling blankness.
Victor’s smirk faltered for a split second, his instincts screaming at him. Something about Lucian’s gaze felt wrong, unnatural. He’d seen many faces in his line of work anger, fear, defiance but this? This was something entirely different.
Danger bells rang loudly in Victor’s head as he straightened slightly, his body tensing. His sharp eyes tried to read Lucian’s expression, but it was like looking into an abyss. No emotion. No tells.
“It’s said the greatest fighter is the one who doesn’t lose control of their emotions,” Victor thought to himself, his mind racing. But this doesn’t look like control… this looks like there’s nothing to control. Blank. Empty.
Victor’s brow furrowed as his unease grew. He took a small step back, narrowing his eyes as he studied Lucian’s movements.
Lucian began walking forward, each step deliberate, his shoes clicking softly against the restaurant floor.
Victor instinctively shifted into a boxing stance, his body calm and calculated, his hands coming up to guard his face. His feet parted slightly for balance, his weight distributed evenly as he prepared himself for an attack.
But even as he assumed his stance, his eyes darted over Lucian’s form, looking for openings. His breath hitched as a realization dawned on him. Why can’t I find any openings? he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible. His chest tightened as his confidence wavered. It’s impossible for someone like him to stand there without a single flaw… right?
Lucian didn’t stop. His steps remained steady, measured. He seemed almost unbothered by Victor’s stance, as though it were nothing more than an afterthought.
Lucian’s thoughts churned as he stared at Victor, his calm facade betraying none of the turmoil underneath. What just happened, Max? he questioned inwardly, his tone sharper than usual. I was able to punch the protagonist. Why didn’t time stop?
He frowned slightly, his fingers brushing against his side as he recalled the distinct sensation from his last life the world itself grinding to a halt whenever he tried to interfere with Victor in a significant way. But now, there was no invisible barrier, no abrupt freeze.
In my last life, every time I so much as thought about disrupting the narrative, the world pushed back. But now? Now I can hit him, and nothing? What’s changed?
Max’s voice echoed in his mind after a moment of contemplative silence. [It’s because of your regression, Host. The second chance has created subtle shifts in the world’s rules. You’ve gained some leeway small changes that allow you to act in ways you couldn’t before.]
Lucian’s eyes narrowed, his gaze flicking over Victor, who had settled into a confident boxing stance. His movements were fluid and practiced, but Lucian could already see where the arrogance seeped into his form.
Lucian’s gaze flickered, the fire in his chest growing. His hands trembled slightly, not from fear but from the raw, untapped rage that had been building since the first moment he’d crossed paths with Victor. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” His voice dropped to a whisper but the fury behind the words was undeniable. “Don’t you know how much I hate this guy?”
“The way he manipulates people, using their feelings to twist them for his own gain… for his profits, his plans…” His voice shook with disgust. “And he tried to use that against people I care about, too!”
There was another long stretch of silence. Max didn’t answer immediately, the weight of Lucian’s words hanging heavily in the air. It felt like the world around them had quieted, as if even time itself was holding its breath.
Lucian’s eyes remained fixed on Victor, who was now standing in front of him, taking his stance as if preparing for a battle. His gaze was cold, calculating, every muscle in his body coiled with intent. Lucian’s breath came out slow and steady, but inside, his heart was racing. His fingers twitched with the desire to strike, to finally tear down this man who had played with so many lives.
His mind was clear. There was no stopping him now.
Max didn’t respond. Silence filled Lucian’s mind.
The restaurant had grown tense, the rustling of onlookers filling the air. Chairs scraped against the floor as some people stood to get a better view, their hushed whispers adding to the charged atmosphere.
Victor’s jaw tightened as Lucian closed the gap between them. The sound of Lucian’s steps click, click, click felt deafening in the silence.
“I said,” Lucian repeated, his voice low and steady, “say that again.” He didn’t break stride, his eyes fixed unflinchingly on Victor.
Victor exhaled sharply, a flicker of anger returning to his face. His pride wouldn’t allow him to back down, no matter the growing unease clawing at his chest. “I just asked if I could have her,” he said, his voice calm but laced with arrogance. He raised his chin slightly, his posture defiant. “Didn’t you already give up? Why so roughed up, boy?”
Lucian’s steps didn’t falter. The calm in his gaze became sharper, almost predatory, as if he were dissecting Victor with every movement.
Victor’s grip tightened. He straightened his shoulders and steadied his stance, his guard raising instinctively. His fingers twitched slightly, his body preparing itself for what he now realized was inevitable.
The restaurant seemed to hold its breath, the air heavy with anticipation. The onlookers whispered nervously among themselves, unsure whether to intervene or simply watch the scene unfold.
Jimmy sat back in his chair, his arms crossed as he watched the exchange with quiet interest. grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. Garry, meanwhile, leaned forward slightly, his eyes wide with anticipation, as though he were watching the climax of an action movie.
—
fifth chapter sighh…so hard