Weeks had passed since Lily's accidental intrusion into the Del Mundo mansion, but the image of that man's face—disfigured with angry red welts, trembling, monstrous—clung to her brain like a virus. She didn't even know his name. She hadn't asked. She'd barely spoken. Yet it haunted her, like unfinished business clawing for closure.
She'd buried herself in work since then—extra shifts, medical textbooks, journal scribbles, literally anything to drown out the questions piling up in her head. But they kept creeping in. How could someone react like that to touch? How did he live like that? And most importantly… why the hell had she stumbled into that mess in the first place?
FLASHBACK: The Hospital, Weeks Ago
The scene was blurry, almost dreamlike. She had just gotten back to the hospital, heart still thudding from the mansion incident, when Director Arthur summoned her to his office.
"Close the door," he said, voice lower than usual.
She obeyed.
He gestured for her to sit. She didn't.
"Raphael called me," he said quietly.
"Raphael?"
"The man whose house you barged into."
Her heart stopped. "Oh my God, is he okay?"
Arthur's eyes locked onto hers. "He had an allergic reaction. One he hasn't had in years. You touched him."
"I didn't mean to—he was collapsing and—and I had to—"
"I know," Arthur interrupted. "I know you were just trying to help. But that's not the issue."
He paused, choosing his words carefully.
"No one knows about his condition outside of this hospital and his company. No press. No leaks. Not even gossip. For his safety and yours… you must never speak of this again. Not to your friends, not to your professors, no one. Do you understand?"
She nodded.
"No, I need to hear it," Arthur said.
"I won't tell anyone," she replied softly.
He relaxed, just a little. "Good."
Now, back in the hospital ward, Lily was reviewing charts when she paused at a patient with severe dermatitis. Inflamed skin, swelling, visible agony. It wasn't the same thing, not even close, but the memory it triggered made her freeze.
She excused herself to the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face. Get it together, she told herself. Still, the image returned. His face. The way he crumpled. The way he looked like he was choking on air.
Meanwhile, back at the Del Mundo estate…
The ruined card castle was gone. Only a few scattered playing cards remained in a decorative bowl on the coffee table like relics of a war no one spoke of.
Raphael sat in silence.
Arthur stood by the massive window, sipping ginseng tea.
"She didn't run away," Raphael muttered.
Arthur turned. "Hmm?"
"After it happened. She didn't flinch. Didn't cry. Didn't scream like the others. She jabbed the injection without hesitating."
Arthur nodded but didn't speak.
"She didn't look away," Raphael added, voice quieter now. "Not once."
Arthur finally turned fully to face him. "What?"
Raphael's eyes didn't move from the ceiling.
"Over the years people have looked at me like I am a monster. But she did not." He swallowed. "She looked… worried."
Arthur studied him for a long moment.
"She's an intern. Young. Probably just empathetic."
"No," Raphael said. "It wasn't pity. It wasn't fear. It was… something else."
Arthur raised a brow. "You've been isolated too long. Don't read too much into one moment."
"I'm not reading anything," Raphael replied. "I just… noticed."
A beat passed.
Then Arthur added, "Regardless, I hope you remember why we keep our lives separate from theirs. You are not like them."
"Trust me," Raphael muttered. "I know."
DM Group Headquarters – Conference Room
Dante threw the report on the table. "If you'd just show up to more board meetings, they'd stop breathing down my neck."
Raphael, seated across from him, didn't even look up. "Tell them to stop staring at yours then. Get a scarf."
Dante scowled. "This is serious."
"You're not a child anymore, Dante."
"Neither are you—but you're acting like one."
"Really?" Raphael smirked. "Because I remember a ten-year-old who used to call me 'monster' behind my back."
Dante stiffened.
"Let's not pretend we're friends," Raphael added. "You're just mad I still own the name you thought you could take."
Dante slammed the door on his way out.
Raphael leaned back and tapped the table with his baton. His reflection in the conference glass stared back—same gloves, same cold stare, same untouchable barrier.
Later That Day: Lily, Hospital Cafeteria
"Girl, you okay? You've been zoning out all week," Linda said between bites of yam porridge.
"I'm fine."
Linda squinted. "It's that delivery day, right?"
"I said I'm fine."
"Alright damn. No need to go Batman mode."
Lily didn't respond. Her eyes were glued to her phone—the picture of the white lilies still her background. The only proof she hadn't imagined it all.
She pocketed it and stood.
"I need air."
Back at the mansion…
Raphael stood at the foot of a new card stack—barely five inches tall. Fragile. Crooked. Lacking the perfection of the one he lost.
He crouched down, adjusted one card with gloved hands. Another slipped. He cursed.
Arthur watched from the hallway.
"You really plan to rebuild the whole thing?"
"I did it once," Raphael said. "I can do it again."
"You took ten years."
"Then I'll take twenty."
Arthur hesitated, then said, "Do you remember why you started in the first place?"
Raphael didn't answer right away.
"I built it with my father," he said finally. "Before they died."
Arthur's face softened. "And now?"
"Now I build it alone. Like everything else."
He placed another card down. This one held.
For now.