The diner had been a triumph of grease and glee—burgers wolfed down with gusto, fries vanishing in a crispy blur, and laughter ricocheting off the weathered walls like a championship ping-pong match.
Lugh Everveil and Jessica Snow emerged into the cool night air, their stomachs stuffed and their spirits soaring higher than a kite in a storm.
With a mutual nod, they opted to wander along the riverside, letting the city's shimmering lights dance on the water while the evening's feast settled.
The breeze toyed with Jessica's midnight-black locks as they ambled, a perfect ribbon on an already flawless night.
Lugh, ever the jester, tossed out a groaner about a duck waddling into a tavern, and Jessica's giggle bubbled up—sweet and smooth, like syrup cascading over a stack of flapjacks.
She couldn't shake how spot-on he was with her. Every subject he broached tickled her fancy, every wisecrack landed like a bullseye, leaving her beaming like a kid with a shiny new toy.
Talking to him was like sinking into a plush armchair—easy, snug, and downright delightful.
By 9 p.m., the sky was a canvas of twinkling stars, and Jessica let out a soft, wistful sigh. "Time's sneaking up—I should probably head home."
Lugh pivoted toward her, all dashing flair and chivalry. "Then allow me to whisk you back, fair maiden!"
She cocked her head, a playful glint in her emerald eyes. "And after you drop me off? What's the grand scheme—tucking in early like a model citizen?"
He let out a bark of laughter, raking a hand through his artfully tousled mane. "Me? Hit the hay this soon? Darling, I'm a spoiled heir—the night's just stretching its legs! My posse's already spamming my phone, pleading for me to storm Detia with them."
Detia—a dazzling maze of neon, snacks, and shenanigans, the city's crown jewel of after-hours fun.
Lugh Everveil, heir to the Everveil empire, was its unofficial king.
Jessica's gut twisted—a cocktail of irritation and something fuzzier she couldn't pin down.
She parted her lips to scold him, then clamped them shut. Who am I to play babysitter?
Still, the words slipped free. "That place is a madhouse—ditch it if you can."
Lugh threw up his hands, a picture of mock despair. "And where else am I supposed to burn the midnight oil? The hours stretch on forever, Jess, and I'm no good at sulking alone. It's miserable without a partner in crime."
She nibbled her lip, then snapped her fingers with a grin. "How about a movie? We catch a late show, and by the credits, it's snooze time—no lonely brooding required!"
His face lit up like a firework finale. "Brilliant! Let's bounce!"
They dashed off to the nearest theater, bounding through the streets with the giddy energy of sugar-high kids.
The cinema was alive with chatter, and fate was in a generous mood—a swoony romance flick about lavender fields and heartfelt confessions was on the marquee.
Perfect timing for a pair teetering on the edge of something unnamed.
As they lined up for tickets, a saleswoman swooped in like a hawk on a mission, her tray of lavender sprigs brandished like holy artifacts.
"Hey, handsome!" she chirped, zeroing in on Lugh. "Your lady here's a stunner—grab her some lavender! It's the bloom of 'waiting for love'—romance is practically banging down your door!"
Lugh chuckled, waving her off. "You've got the wrong idea—she's not my girlfriend…"
"Pfft, nonsense!" she retorted, planting her hands on her hips. "Who else drags a pal to a mushy love movie? You're dating, plain as day! Maybe not official yet, but it's coming—mark my words! Snag some flowers, lock in those good vibes!"
Her enthusiasm was a tidal wave, and Lugh, cornered like a deer in headlights, surrendered.
He forked over some cash for a dainty vial of lavender and turned to Jessica with a lopsided grin. "She's relentless—I'm powerless! Here, take this. Stick it on your desk at work—it'll perk you up after drowning in reports."
Jessica's cheeks bloomed a soft pink as she nodded, her fingers curling around the vial. "Thanks."
Internally, she chanted, "This isn't a date—I'm just rescuing a stray soul from nightlife nonsense!" But her grip tightened, her heart doing a little jig she couldn't hush.
Lugh's head snapped toward the entrance, his brow creasing. "Hmm?"
"What's up?" Jessica asked, craning to peek past him.
"Nothing—just thought I spotted a familiar face," he mumbled, squinting into the crowd. "Probably my imagination playing tricks. Come on, show's starting—let's snag our spots!"
They slipped into the theater, popcorn cradled like treasure, as the lights dimmed and the screen glowed to life.
Outside, a figure lingered in the shadows, decked in a security uniform that clung to his rugged frame.
'A person'—a man that Lugh would recognize very well if he saw his face, chest heaving from a frantic sprint—pressed a hand to his racing heart. "Too close! Nearly got caught! That Lugh Everveil's got eyes like a damn eagle—no wonder he flattened me last time!"
He froze, then scowled. "Hold up—why am I ducking? I'm reborn—he doesn't even know my face! What's got me rattled?"
A dry, bitter laugh slipped out, his gaze sharpening with self-reproach. "Reborn, and I'm still flinching at his ghost. Lame."
Then his spine stiffened, resolve blazing. "Not this round. Fate's tossed me a do-over, and I'm cashing it in big! Everything you swiped—my dreams, my girl—I'm clawing it back, doubled! Your empire, your ladies—I'll snatch 'em all and waltz over your ashes to the top!"
He shot the theater a final, steely glare, then strutted off, his badge catching the streetlights like a badge of honor.
The film rolled credits at 11:30 p.m., a weepy tale that left Jessica blotting her eyes with a napkin and Lugh coughing to mask his own misty moment.
He drove her home, their banter flowing like a lazy river, then cruised back to his penthouse for some well-deserved Zs.
The night had been a slam dunk—tasty eats, stellar company, and a teaser of Xavier's meltdown hovering just over the horizon.
Noon the next day, Lugh peeled himself from bed, stretching with the languid grace of a sun-warmed cat.
A quick shower and a coffee stout enough to jolt a corpse later, he decided to don his villain cape—figuratively, of course.
Off to the hospital he went, armed with a saintly smile and a wicked itch to check on his favorite chew toy, Xavier Cain.
Sure, it was partly concern, but mostly? He craved that sweet, sweet "loathe me but can't touch me" rush. Pure bliss.
Xavier was destiny's darling—lucky as a four-leaf clover, blessed by every twist of fate, always turning flops into wins.
As the villain, Lugh couldn't afford to snooze. One misstep, and the guy might flip the table.
Lugh held the upper hand now, but he kept his guard up—because "Vigilant" might as well have been tattooed on his soul (not really, but it had a nice ring).
He swaggered into the ward, and—bingo!—there was Marcus Mahatir, fussing over Xavier with a gleaming case of needles.
The curly-haired doc was gearing up for some healing wizardry, his every move a bounce of enthusiasm.
"Talk about timing," Lugh purred, rubbing his hands like a kid eyeing a candy stash. "Today's wish is still on the table!"
With a grin brighter than a supernova, he clasped his hands and murmured to the skies—or at least to his trusty Wishing System. "Oh, mighty and magnificent system, lend me your ear! Today, I wish…"
---
The night before, that lavender vial had been the crown jewel of a sugary-sweet evening.
Jessica clutched it all the way home, her mind looping Lugh's goofy grin and that "not my girlfriend" sidestep.
"Saving a lost youth? Yeah, right," she smirked, setting it on her nightstand.
It wasn't a date—not technically—but it sure danced like one, and she wasn't complaining.
Lugh, sprawled across his penthouse couch post-movie, had savored the replay too.
Jessica's laugh, her sassy jabs, that flush when he handed her the flowers—chef's kiss perfection.
He'd traded Detia's wildness for her, and it'd paid off in glittering spades.