The world was white.
The sterile sting of antiseptic filled Rodey's nose. Beeping machines pulsed in rhythm with his shallow breaths.
His eyelids fluttered open, heavy as stone. A ventilator hissed beside him, tubes running into his body like lifelines.
At the edge of his vision, Dylan sat in the corner, arms crossed, his shadow looming like an executioner. His voice was calm, cold—like he had been expecting this moment.
"I knew this could happen," he said. "No one cheats death by speed without paying a price."
Rodey tried to speak, but the mask clamped over his mouth silenced him. His eyes shifted weakly.
There—beside his bed—Alikae.
Her head rested against the sheets, eyes swollen from crying, her hand wrapped tightly around his wrist like she would never let go. She had fallen asleep mid-vigil, her breath trembling in her dreams.
And then—
"HEY!" Deniz's voice boomed, shattering the heavy silence. He barged into the room, a bag of chips in one hand, his coat hanging half-off his shoulder. His blue eyes narrowed, fury sparking beneath his usual playfulness.
He pointed at the ceiling. At nothing.
No—at the AUTHOR.
"Listen here, you bastard writer!" Deniz barked, jabbing the chip bag like a weapon. "If Rodey dies in some future arc because of this nonsense fight between us—between ME and HIM—I swear, I'll climb out of these pages and kill you myself!"
Dylan blinked. Rodey blinked. Even the heart monitor skipped a beat.
Deniz huffed, crunching a chip with exaggerated anger.
"I'm serious. Stop writing stupid death flags, got it?!"
He leaned close to Rodey, smirking despite the fire in his tone.
"You're not dying yet, buddy. Not until I say so."
The room froze between laughter and dread, between the chains of reality and the whisper of fiction itself breaking apart.
And Rodey—weak as he was—managed to squeeze Alikae's hand.
The doctor stormed in with the nurse at his side, clutching the clipboard like a weapon. His eyes darted between the machines and Rodey's pale body.
"Impossible… these ECG readings—abnormal P-waves, QRS spikes off the chart, ST elevation! His heart should've failed hours ago. And look at this—systolic pressure peaking at two-twenty, diastolic refusing to drop under one-thirty. This isn't survival; this is defiance of biology!"
The nurse—her eyes widening, recognizing Rodey as the boy who once saved her—clutched her hands together as if in prayer.
Dylan only sighed, shaking his head with grim calm. "I knew this could happen. He keeps pushing past limits like they don't exist."
Deniz, leaning against the wall with arms crossed, snorted. "Tch. Diastolic, systolic, ST-elevation… You gonna buy a new dictionary every week, doc? Speak human language. All I see is a kid who doesn't know when to quit."
The doctor spun toward him, flustered. "This isn't a joke! A normal patient would be dead!"
Deniz smirked, eyes flicking toward Rodey. "Dead? He's still breathing, isn't he? That's Rodey for you. You can measure him all you want—your machines won't ever keep up."
The doctor finally set the clipboard down, his shoulders slumping. His eyes softened as he looked at the boy on the bed.
"…It doesn't make sense. His body should've collapsed entirely, but instead… his healing factor is accelerating. Cells are regenerating faster than I can measure." He exhaled, heavy with defeat. "You can discharge him soon. Physically, he'll walk out fine… but I fear the next battle will cost him more than blood."
Silence hung for a moment. Alikae stirred in her chair, still asleep, her hand gently resting against Rodey's arm.
Deniz broke the silence with a mocking grin, leaning closer to Rodey's bed. "See, doc? That's Rodey—stubborn even at the cellular level." Then, turning toward Dylan with a smirk, he added, "Besides, don't act so dramatic. You think this hospital's here for patients? This is Dylan's place. Every floor, every nurse, every cop outside—it's all his system. The police? Paid full to keep the 'gang' running smoothly. Hell, even the sirens outside don't wail without his permission."
The nurse froze at those words, staring wide-eyed at Dylan. Dylan only adjusted his coat, his face unreadable.
Deniz chuckled, waving dismissively. "So relax, doc. As long as Dylan's shadow covers this city, Rodey isn't going anywhere."
Rodey stirred faintly, eyelids fluttering open, the ventilator no longer needed. The first thing he saw was Alikae's messy hair sprawled across his arm.
Her eyes snapped open as if she felt his gaze. "...You stupid, stubborn idiot!"
Before Rodey could even muster a weak smile, her fist landed on his shoulder with surprising force. Thud!
"Do you have any idea how close you were—!? You nearly—" Her voice cracked, tears brimming. "You nearly left me!"
Rodey coughed weakly, a faint grin tugging at his lips. "Guess… I'm still here… because I couldn't stand your nagging in the afterlife."
Whack! Another punch to his arm.
The doctor nearly dropped his pen. His face twisted with outrage as he rushed to the bedside.
"STOP—STOP AT ONCE!" he barked, pointing dramatically at Alikae. "No one lays a hand on my patient—especially not this one! Do you understand how extraordinary his physiology is? His systolic and diastolic readings are redefining human limits!"
Deniz leaned back, covering a laugh with his hand. "Careful, Alikae. Looks like the doc's jealous—he wants Rodey all to himself now."
The nurse bit her lip, hiding a smile, while Dylan remained motionless, watching with cold eyes, but a shadow of relief flickered in them.
The doctor spread his arms protectively around the bed like a knight before his king. "He is not to be harmed—he is my powerful patient in recovery mode!"
Alikae blinked at him, half-annoyed, half-baffled. "…Are you seriously gatekeeping punches right now?"
Rodey coughed again, laughing faintly through the pain. "Don't fight… over me… I'm not that handsome."
The beeping of Rodey's monitor faded into the background as Dylan sat in the ward, his gaze distant. His clenched fists trembled on his knees. The sight of Rodey, broken yet alive, dragged him back years into a memory he had buried deep.
The sterile smell of the present hospital dissolved into another one—the scent of antiseptic and fading flowers. A man lay on the bed, his frame frail but his eyes still sharp as steel. Ali Vefa.
Beside him stood two boys, both no longer children but not yet men. Hussain, broad-shouldered and restless, his fists always itching for a fight. And Dylan—skin pale, eyes hollow with fear, his hair still dark, face streaked with tears.
Ali's breathing was shallow, each word costing him strength. "Listen… you two…" His hand shook as he reached out, resting on both of theirs. "You've seen me save people. You've seen me stand… for the weak."
Hussain turned away, biting his lip, jaw tight to stop himself from crying. Dylan stayed rooted, tears falling freely.
Ali's eyes softened. "I'm not asking you to be me. I'm asking you to be better. Swear it. Swear you'll wear the badge. Swear you'll protect, even when the world spits on you."
Dylan's throat burned. He grabbed Ali's cold hand, squeezing desperately. "I… I promise, sir. I promise I'll become a cop. I'll save people. I won't run anymore." His voice broke, but the vow was carved into his heart.
Hussain, still turned away, muttered gruffly. "…Tch. You're making me say it out loud, old man?" His voice cracked as he added, "Fine. I'll do it. I'll save people too. Happy now?"
Ali's lips curved into the faintest smile. His last strength gathered for one final whisper.
"Good boys… my boys…"
The monitor flatlined.
Dylan dropped his head onto Ali's chest, sobbing, while Hussain finally turned, his tears falling silently despite his pride.
Back in the present, Dylan blinked hard, his fists still trembling. He glanced at Rodey—the boy who carried blood of crime, yet heart of gold.
"…Ali," Dylan whispered under his breath. "I promised you. And I'll keep that promise… even if it costs me everything."
The hum of the hospital lights pressed against Dylan's ears as his memory of Ali faded. His chest ached—not from the years of scars, but from the weight of a vow he had broken.
He stared at Rodey's sleeping form, his hand trembling over the boy's wrist. The pulse was steady, alive. Still here.
Dylan lowered his head and whispered, voice thick with grief:
"Ali… you'd hate me now, wouldn't you? I swore to you I'd save people. Swore I'd wear the badge proud. But look at me…" His lips twisted, almost laughing at himself. "…A cop tangled with crime. A man who let his oath rot."
His fingers dug into the bedrail, knuckles white.
"I couldn't save them, Ali. I couldn't save my wife… I couldn't save Ariel. I couldn't save Riely." His voice cracked as the names fell out like shards of glass. "They were everything. And I lost them."
He swallowed hard, forcing the next words through the tightness in his throat.
"That's why I became this monster. That's why I've lied, cheated, killed, made deals with devils. Not for me—for revenge. For the justice no court could give me."
His eyes fell back to Rodey, pale against the sheets. A softness returned, a desperate one.
"But him… Rodey… he's all I've got left. He's the last piece of her I can protect, the last light I can hold onto." Dylan's voice dropped, almost pleading. "If I can save him… then maybe, Ali… maybe you won't hate me completely."
The room was silent, save for the rhythmic beeping of Rodey's ECG. Dylan brushed his hand over the boy's hair, whispering as if Ali himself lingered in the shadows.
"I failed your lesson, old man. But I'll keep this one… I'll save Rodey. Even if it damns me forever."
The hospital ward was quiet except for the steady beep of Rodey's ECG. Dylan sat in silence, lost in his confession, when a voice drifted from the corner.
"Looks like the author likes cliffhangers, huh?"
Dylan's head snapped up, his brow furrowed. "Who are you talking to?"
Deniz leaned back in the chair he had dragged into the room, legs crossed, an infuriating smirk playing on his lips. "To myself. Don't worry, old man—I'm not losing it. Not yet."
Dylan shook his head, muttering under his breath. "You're impossible."
Deniz only grinned wider. "That's what makes me fun."
The conversation dissolved into silence again, but this time it wasn't heavy—it was the calm before another storm.
Because there were only four days left.
Four days until the marriage.
Alikae was happy—smiling in ways she hadn't in months. Her laughter returned, light and teasing. For the first time, she looked like a girl untouched by chains.
Rodey tried to smile with her, but behind his grin, a storm raged.
He wasn't strong enough. Not yet. Not enough to face Dylan, or Deniz, or the shadows in the Diamond Ward.
The thought gnawed at him like a curse: If I can't even hold myself together… how can I ever protect her? How can I protect the weak?
His fingers tightened around the bedsheet, silent rage boiling in his chest.
Four days. Four days to become something more—or lose everything.