Ken froze. It was Hades—the last person he expected to see in the dead of night.
How did he know I would be here? Is he following me? The thoughts raced through Ken's mind, accompanied by the memory of Hades' unnervingly cold hands and the string of unexplainable "coincidences" that had trailed him for weeks. But Ken shook his head violently, dampening his suspicion. There was no time for paranoia. His mother was dying, and he had neglected her.
Before the wealth, before Mikael, before the whirlwind of gifts, Ken's life had been a clockwork of duty. He had visited every weekend; he had checked in with the doctors daily. But in the last week, he hadn't said a single word to the staff. He had missed his last visit.
The ride to the hospital felt interminable. As the city lights blurred past the window of the obsidian SUV, Ken reflected on the past seven days. He had been so lost in the silk and gold of Mikael's world that he had started to lose the very core of himself. He had once had a plan—difficult, grueling, but manageable. Now, everything was moving at a velocity he couldn't control.
A single tear escaped, tracing a hot path down his cheek. He realized now that a relationship wasn't just a distraction; it was a consumption. He had been so caught up in the "pleasure of the moment" that he had abandoned his own principles.
How did it get this bad? Why was I so easily bought? Everything had started the moment Hades appeared. Every perfectly planned detail of his life had begun to crumble, replaced by a luxury he hadn't earned. Hades stared at him from the driver's seat, his profile sharp against the passing streetlamps. Sensing the boy's spiraling thoughts, he muttered in a low, certain tone:
"Don't worry. She will survive."
Ken looked at Hades with tear-rimmed eyes. He wondered how a stranger could be so sure, but the energy radiating from the man discouraged further questions. The luck, the footage, the cleared debts—Ken knew now that Lucien's hand was in all of it. And every favor he had ignored would surely come with a price. One moment he was a waiter in a restaurant; the next, he was trapped between two powerful men who saw him as a prize to be won.
The life of luxury came with a cost he couldn't afford: his peace, his jobs, and now, his mother's health. He needed time away from all of it—from his boss, from Lucien, and from Mikael.
When they reached the hospital, Ken bolted from the car without a second thought or a word of thanks. He checked her room first, finding her fast asleep, before sprinting to the oncology wing to find the resident on duty.
"Mr. Ken, we've managed to stabilize her for now," Dr. Finn said, looking up from a tablet. "We will proceed with the aggressive treatment starting tomorrow. However... we cannot determine the final outcome. The success depends entirely on how her body responds."
"What do you mean?" Ken asked, his voice trembling as he pushed the tablet away.
"If she responds well, she could live for a year or two," Dr. Finn said gently. "If she doesn't, she may have less than six months."
Ken's world shattered. She was all he had left. One option was better than the other, but both felt like a death sentence. He finally glanced at the tablet, his eyes catching the row for the "Medication and Procedure Total."
"A hundred and thirty-three thousand dollars?" Ken choked out.
"Oh... you don't have to worry about that," the doctor said with a small, reassuring smile.
"Why? How?"
"A man paid for it earlier tonight. He was dressed in black," the doctor replied. "I believe his name is Sir Lucien. The woman with him referred to him as such."
Ken stood up and ran back to the driveway, but the obsidian SUV was gone. The silence of the night air felt heavy.
"So it wasn't a coincidence," Ken whispered to the empty street. "He knew all along."
He walked back inside and sat by his mother's bed, resting his head on the mattress. He cried until the sun began to peek through the blinds, his heart heavy with the weight of a time limit he couldn't stop.
The next morning, Sunday, Ken woke up with swollen eyes. His mother was still asleep, looking pale and fragile, her skin almost translucent. He realized he hadn't showered or changed. He kissed her forehead and stepped out to find breakfast and some flowers to brighten the sterile room.
Meanwhile, Mikael woke up feeling a strange, heavy exhaustion. He reached for his phone, expecting a sweet "good morning" text. Instead, his screen was flooded with missed calls and frantic messages from Ken sent hours ago.
"Please come pick me up... I need a ride... Please Mikael, help me!"
The words sent a chill down Mikael's spine. He called Ken immediately, but it went straight to voicemail. He tried five, ten, twenty times. Nothing. Panicked, he grabbed his keys and raced to Ken's apartment, but the door remained locked and the windows dark. No one was home.
Back at the hospital, Ken returned with a modest bouquet and a tray of food. His mother was awake, her eyes tired but warm.
"Hey, honey," she said with a strained smile.
"Hey, Mom." Ken went to the nightstand to swap the water in the vase, but he stopped. There was already a bouquet there—vibrant, yellow Daffodils.
"Who brought these?" Ken asked, his voice tight.
"A nice young man," she replied weakly. "He was wearing a black suit. He visited this morning and left almost immediately. I've never seen him before, but he was very polite."
"Lucien," Ken whispered. What is his game? Does he think he can buy her life and my soul at the same time?
He dropped his own flowers and sat by her side. "How are you feeling, Mom?"
"I'll survive. But you... I know you've been having a hard time. How are you doing, baby?"
"I'm not fine, Mom." The tears he had been holding back flooded over. He gripped her hand, his voice breaking. "I can't do this. I'm tired."
"You can," she whispered, rubbing his hand with her thumb. "You've always been a strong kid. Don't let anyone pull you down or break you. It's going to be hard, but you can face it."
"I can't lose you too," Ken sobbed, burying his face in the blankets. "I have no one else. I'm not strong enough."
She pulled him closer, her own tears falling into his hair. She knew her time was a flickering candle, and there was nothing she could do to shield him from the dark.
Outside the door, Hades stood in the sterile hallway. He listened to the sobbing from within for a long moment, then turned and vanished into the shadows of the corridor.
Mikael spent the entire day outside Ken's apartment, waiting like a ghost. He sent hundreds of messages, his worry turning into a cold, hollow knot in his stomach. By midnight, he realized Ken wasn't coming home. He decided he would confront him at school on Monday morning.
Mikael couldn't sleep. He stared at the ceiling until 6:00 AM, his eyes burning. He checked his phone one last time before getting ready. A single message from Ken sat at the top of his notifications. It was short, cold, and final.
"Let's take a break."