"Do not come! Do not come!"
A mature, beautiful woman pleaded, gasping for breath, struggling to suppress the moans brought on by the waves of pleasure just beginning to crash ashore.
"I'M GONNA COME!"
Alas, her words were cut short by her partner's unabashed declaration. Loud and solid.
The man blurted out, as if he had no control over his mouth—or his motion.
3 minutes and 33 seconds.
Frankly, 33 seconds was all he needed to feel "enlightened."
The remaining 3 minutes? Pure willpower.
To be fair, Noah Miller couldn't be blamed for his subpar performance. Apart from Odessa being a total stunner, it had been years since his last on-field demonstration.
Noah had been quite an active player in his medical college days. His residency years were also very colorful.
Everything was covered by doctor-patient confidentiality. Or was it doctor-nurse confidentiality? Anyway, it wasn't like he lacked experience.
It was just that he had gotten so used to performing simulated solo raids for the past few years that he'd almost forgotten what joint missions in the real dungeon felt like.
***
Rewinding a bit back in time.
For the last five years, Noah had been stationed overseas as an army doctor. The base he was assigned to was a barren land with almost no entertainment to offer. (The food was good though.)
And then there were the real bone(r) killer things—guns, torn limbs, and deaths.
But that wasn't the reason he'd been without female company for so long.
Was it because of the strictness of the army then? Ummm... Nope.
To be frank, being in the army wasn't as colorless as civilians made it out to be. When people lived under the same roof on foreign soil, human connections were bound to happen one way or another.
Simply put, there were plenty of female soldiers and non-combat staff who took on the role of "army wives" for the deployed troops.
Then why didn't Noah get his share of care?
Of course, it was because he had once offended his superior. And there was no one more petty than an army official hell-bent on making a soldier's life a living hell.
So, Noah was kinda "excommunicado" by almost everyone in his unit.
Thankfully, his unit was attacked by a lone kid gunman one day. Noah's superior was the sole victim of this incident.
Had he known the kid and what he was about to do beforehand, Noah might have volunteered in the act. Fortunately for Noah, he couldn't do a "collab" with the kid.
So he did the next best thing—"Rest in peace, kid. You did me a solid." A prayer complete.
Then something even more wonderful happened. The management had the gall to assume he and his superior were close pals because of their various "friendly" interactions.
Of course, Noah had to do the right thing and set the records straight. He played the role of a devastated friend well. Receiving Oscars.jpeg.
Eventually, Noah was relieved of his active duties because of the accident actually taking place right in front of him, which contributed to his "extreme stress."
Swoosh. Zoom. Cut to the flight scene.
Let it go… let it goooo! Noah sang to his heart's content on the return flight.
As an army doctor on mandatory rest, Noah still retained many privileges.
Plus, no living parents. No family. A few friends.
Basically, he was a full-of-youth free bird.
This free bird then found his first temporary nest "down south" when one of his army buddies from a different unit got hitched.
He had come to this place to attend the wedding and was supposed to return to his "blue heaven" up north on the same day.
But, as fate would have it, he fell in love—with the "local cuisine."
Um… Bigger was indeed better.
It didn't take much convincing for him to appreciate the beauty of walls. The man would even put an ever-changing chameleon to shame.
After so many years of abstinence, it was his heart this time that sang "let it goooo."
And he really did let go. The veteran doctor was bold enough in rounding off his "uptime" to 4 minutes.
Cue Noah's current predicament: Where the hell did he throw his clothes?
***
A few hours later.
A blue Camaro with black accents zipped through the lonely streets.
The evening breeze still carried the warmth of the sun, mixing it with the coolness of the moon, which had decided to show up earlier than scheduled.
Hm? Wait a minute. There was a hint of rubber and gasoline in the air.
Damn it.
Noah really needed to change his tires and check the carburetor for an oil leak.
Maybe at the next gas station—tomorrow.
Yeah, that makes sense. There's always tomorrow, right?
And at this point, it was time for a song.
"I've been trynaa call…"
"I've been on my own for long enough…"
"Maybe you can show me how to love, maybe…"
Noah sang along to the tune playing on his car's stereo.
He'd had it on repeat for nearly half an hour. And just like the road ahead, the song still had many miles left in it before he called it quits.
The eccentric army doc believed a long road trip needed a dedicated song—one that could be played on repeat.
He couldn't deal with a playlist full of different tracks when driving solo. He needed the comfort of familiar lyrics, something that truly hit when you were in that kind of mood. The buzz of a road trip could only be felt in the moment.
For some reason, Noah felt refreshed. It was as if a rusty part of him had been thoroughly cleaned and oiled. It made creaking noise no more.
The song really suited his current trip and mood.
"I look around and aai…"
"Sin City's cold and empty… oof!"
"No one's around to judge me…"
"I can't see clearly when you're goh— oh– oh– on and I….!"
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
Suddenly, his smartphone rang. A bit of a mood killer but Noah didn't mind.
He was still seeing the world in colors with extra contrast today. So bright and beautiful.
Conveniently, the smartphone was connected to the car's system, so he picked it up with a button on the steering wheel. The song paused automatically when the call connected.
"Hey, there. What's up?"
Noah didn't bother to check the caller ID. A charming woman's voice came from the other side. His desires stirred as soon as the voice reached his ears.
"Um… is this… Noah?"
Noah raised his brows in surprise. It didn't take him long to recognize the voice. A smile crept onto his lips as he replied.
"Keke. What a pleasant surprise, Sunshine. I didn't think you'd call so soon. Tell me—um…. Should I turn my wheels around… or is that just me catching feelings too soon?"
After spending almost a day with her, he was starting to like her.
Of course, he'd redeemed himself after his subpar performance in the first raid, clocking in a solid 7 minutes on the second go—this time prioritizing Odessa's needs.
He felt genuinely proud. Gorilla pounding his own chest.jpeg.
Indeed, one had to shoot blanks first before going on a real hunt.
Odessa seemed to smile, even though he couldn't see her. She cleared her throat before speaking.
"Um… no. it's alright. You go meet your friends for the next four days. We can meet by the weekend," she suggested.
"Yeah. Works. Anything else?" Noah asked casually.
A strange silence filled the car for a moment. Odessa looked like she was about to say something, but her lips pressed shut again.
Finally, she spoke up, her voice soft and unsure.
"I… I just wanted to ask you something."
Noah adjusted his grip on the steering wheel and leaned back a little.
"Yeah? Tell me," he asked, keeping his eyes on the road.
There was a short silence again. Then she asked in a hesitant voice, "Did you… see any scar-faced man when you left my place?"
Noah frowned slightly, confusion crossing his face. That came out of nowhere. He slowed the car a bit as his mind started connecting the dots.
He did simple math.
"Nooooo," he said, dragging the word a little. "Why? Is he your ex or something?"
At the same time, he opened the bottle of water sitting in his cup holder. He took a big gulp as Odessa replied quietly.
"Yes… he's my ex…."
"...."
"Um…. ex-husband."
Noah was about to spray a mouthful of water on his car's dashboard and windshield like a certain WWE superstar but he managed to control himself.
"You told me you weren't married!" he said, wiping his chin with his sleeve, clearly annoyed.
"I'm not," Odessa said softly. "I'm divorced."
Noah narrowed his eyes a bit, not at her, but at the road ahead. "Since when?"
Suddenly…
Vroooom. Vrooom.
There was a loud engine revving behind him. A black Impala—sleek and vintage—flew past him, the driver clearly in a rush. The car was modded for sure. It roared like it was challenging the whole road.
Back to the call, he waited for her answer.
"…Yesterday," Odessa said after a moment.
Noah blinked. "Huh? Say that again?"
Odessa took a breath, then repeated it, clearer this time.
"I signed my divorce papers yesterday."
SPROOOF!
Noah completely lost it. This time, the water went flying again—out the window and on his lap. HHH waterworks– car edition.
"Bro—seriously? Yesterday? That… means it hasn't even been finalized yet," he said in disbelief, wiping his face again.
On the other end of the call, Odessa didn't respond right away. Maybe she was waiting for him to yell. Or maybe she was just embarrassed. Noah couldn't tell.
"Ya know...You're something else, Odessa," he muttered with a dry chuckle, shaking his head.
There was a short silence after Noah's last words. Then Odessa finally spoke again, her voice clearer and more confident now.
"What does it matter when I sign it as long as I have done it?" she said. "As far as I'm concerned, I'm divorced—and I'm never going back to him again."
She didn't sound weak anymore. She meant what she said.
But then, as if she suddenly remembered something important, her tone shifted.
"Listen," she continued, more serious this time, "the reason I actually called you... it wasn't just to chat."
Noah straightened a little in his seat.
"My ex-husband—he's crazy," she said, lowering her voice slightly. "I think he saw you leaving my house. So please, stay alert. Don't meet him or try to talk to him. Just avoid him, okay?"
Noah raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Oh?"
He shook his head and chuckled under his breath.
"No problem. I won't talk to him," he said casually, then let out a soft sigh. 'Women,' he thought.
To him, it all made sense. She probably didn't want her ex-husband ruining things. Maybe the guy would say something nasty or dig up her past.
Maybe she just didn't want her new start with Noah to get mixed up with old drama. Fair enough.
"Alright then. Is there anything else?" he asked, sounding chill again.
"Um… no," Odessa replied after a brief pause.
Noah noticed her voice had gotten softer again. Maybe she felt bad for calling just to give a warning. Or maybe he was being too rude.
So he smiled and added lightly, "Alright then. See you this weekend."
There was another pause, and then he said, "Also, I'd like it if you wore something yellow when we met."
Odessa didn't respond right away, but when she did, her voice sounded brighter—like she was smiling.
"Fine. See you this weekend," she said. Then the call ended.
Noah let out a sigh.
"Haah! Why did I say yellow? Shoulda gone with the blue," he muttered, still smiling a little.
But the smile didn't last long.
Up ahead, the same sleek Impala that had zoomed past him earlier suddenly braked hard—right in the middle of the road.
F!
Noah's eyes widened as he slammed his foot on the brake pedal, at the same time yanking the emergency brake.
Screeeeech—!
The rubber screamed against the road, but it was no use. The old and worn out tires couldn't provide the much-needed grip.
The car started skidding out of control. His heartbeat spiked as he tried to steer away, but the back tires lifted off the ground. The whole car tilted, then flipped.
WHAM. WHAM. WHUMP.
Metal screeched, glass cracked, and the world spun like a broken washing machine.
The Camaro flipped once, then again, before finally crashing sideways into the dirt beside the barren road.
Silence.
Dust floated in the air like lazy ghosts.
Noah groaned from inside the car.
Thankfully, he had his seatbelt on, so he wasn't seriously injured.
Noah's head throbbed, and his vision was fuzzy, like someone had turned on a blur filter. His thoughts were spinning too.
"What… what in the world…" he muttered, his voice dry. He blinked slowly, trying to get a grip on his surroundings.
That's when he heard it. The low rumble of an engine.
The Impala had returned. It rolled up beside the wrecked Camaro and came to a stop.
The door opened with a sharp click. A man stepped out.
He walked slowly toward Noah, not in a rush, not panicking. His face looked calm—too calm. But his eyes... there was a fire there. A quiet, dangerous one.
Noah squinted, trying to get a better look. The guy had a scar running down the right side of his face.
"What the hell, man?!" he said, coughing a bit, his voice still shaky. "You almost killed me!"
The man didn't reply. Instead, he reached into his coat.
Click. A shotgun.
He raised it, walked up to Noah's window, and pressed the cold barrel right against Noah's forehead.
Noah froze.
His breath caught in his throat. His body stiffened.
"Do you know someone named Odessa?" the man asked calmly, like he was asking for the time. It was a question but also wasn't one. It was as if the man already knew the answer. There was no room for lies.
Noah's mind did a quick math once again.
Scarface. Crazy ex. Shotgun. Yep, that added up real fast.
'Uuuuuh… so she really wasn't kidding when she called him crazy.'
He tried to stay calm. He raised his hands slowly.
"Are… are you her ex? Listen, man. You don't want to do anything stupid," he said, his voice trembling just a little.
Then he added, "I… I'm from the army."
He didn't know why he said it. Maybe he hoped it would make the guy back off. Maybe it would put the fear of law in him.
But it didn't.
The man blinked slowly, clearly surprised. "Oh? What's your howl?"
Noah blinked too, caught off guard.
"Uh… Willing and Able," he replied, his voice unsure.
The man nodded once. "Mine's By Force and Valor."
Then the guy did something out of the character. He suddenly lowered the shotgun. Instead of pulling the trigger… he reached out and grabbed Noah by the shoulder.
"Huh?"
With surprising gentleness, the scar-faced man helped Noah out of the wrecked car and guided him to a large rock nearby.
He made Noah sit down carefully.
Noah just sat there, confused as hell, dust in his hair and sweat on his forehead. His nose bled a little.
"You okay?" the guy asked, still calm, still cold.
Noah looked at him like he was seeing a ghost.
"Um… I don't think you have the moral authority to worry about me after causing the accident… but that's just me. Um… yeah. I'm fine. What are you planning to do here?" he asked.
The man said nothing. He just looked toward the empty road, shotgun still in hand, eyes distant… but dangerous.
His scarred face didn't show much emotion, but something about the way he stood—the way he looked—told Noah this guy wasn't normal.
After a moment of silence, the man finally spoke.
"Name's Dean," he said, like they were meeting at a coffee shop or something. "Yours?"
Noah blinked, surprised by how casually the guy talked. "Noah," he replied, his voice dry.
Dean nodded, like he was filing that info away.
Then he said it.
"You know I'm going to kill you, right?"
Noah blinked again. This time slower.
His headache got worse.
"…Huh?"
He stared at Dean, waiting for him to laugh or say just kidding, but the guy didn't even flinch.
'Alright… intimidation tactic. Classic crazy-ex move,' Noah thought. This wasn't his first interrogation by exes.
He tried to keep it cool. "Listen, man… if you want to say something nasty about Odessa or whatever, why don't we just—"
Dean shook his head.
"Why would I say anything nasty? She's an angel," he said with a straight face. "I'm the crazy one between us."
Noah paused.
'Wow… So much self-awareness,' he thought, blinking slowly again. There went his chance to argue.
How do you fight back with logic when the other guy already agrees that he's insane?
There was a short silence.
Then Noah's mind suddenly caught up.
Wait… this guy might actually be serious. As if him deliberately triggering an accident wasn't enough for Noah to get the hint.
The doc felt a cold chill crawl up his back.
"Y-You know what would happen to you if you kill me, right?" Noah stuttered.
Dean tilted his head slightly and smiled—an easy, calm smile, like they were talking about the weather.
"Don't worry," he said. "I'll be fine. I have my friends here in the local government. Just a few years in prison. Maybe less if you cooperate with me in your death."
Noah laughed.
It wasn't a happy laugh. More like a nervous, I'm-going-to-die-lol kind of laugh.
Dean reached into his coat and pulled out a silver metal flask. He twisted the cap off and held it out toward Noah.
"Drink?"
Noah blinked. "Seriously?"
Dean nodded. "Hmm. It's gin. Strong. Helps with pain… and dying conversations."
Noah chuckled nervously but took the flask anyway. One sip in, and it burned like fire down his throat.
The two of them sat there by the side of the road—one leaning on a rock, the other… he was there but his mind was still halfway trapped in a flipped car.
For the next hour, they drank and talked. Or rather, Dean talked. About wars, broken promises, what love used to feel like, and how men like them were born just a little too late for glory, and way too early for peace.
Fake PTSD meets real PTSD. Or was it just nostalgia for Dean?
Noah listened. What else could he do?
In the end, there was no escape. Dean gave him a look—a quiet one that said, this is happening—and Noah climbed back into his wrecked car like a man boarding a coffin on wheels.
His only comfort was that he was too drunk to feel scared or think straight.
Noah didn't know what killed him in the end—the crash, the gin, the shotgun, or fate. All he remembered was the lights.
Bright. Blinding. Beautiful.
His wrecked car had the courtesy to play the loop song on his dying moments:
"I said, ooh, I'm blinded by the lights….."
"No, I can't sleep until I feel your…"
"Touchhhh…..!"
"...."
Fin?
Swoosh. Zoom. Reboot!
When Noah thought about this dying memory again, he sighed.
He was still called Noah—but everything else about him had changed.
He was now five years old… and the 9th royal prince of a powerful kingdom in another world.