When Lucien Blackwood opened his eyes, the first thing he saw wasn't the roof of Scarlett's van.
It was a white ceiling.
For several seconds, he stared upward silently.
Then came the smell.
Sterile air.
Disinfectant.
Medicine.
Lucien blinked once and sighed.
"So I got sent to a hospital after all."
He wasn't particularly surprised.
After forcing Death into a dream world and completely crushing a conceptual entity, collapsing afterward had been inevitable.
He didn't immediately get up.
Instead, he remained lying quietly on the bed, replaying the entire battle in his mind.
How do you kill something that technically doesn't exist?
That question had followed him from the moment Scarlett walked into his antique shop.
A conceptual existence.
A supernatural phenomenon worshipped by fanatics.
Something that wasn't truly alive yet somehow existed.
Initially, Lucien had considered exploiting flaws in Death's own rules.
Interrupt the sequence.
Break the ritual.
Prevent it from finishing its killing cycle and force some kind of system collapse.
But the more he thought about it, the less he liked that solution.
Because that approach still meant reacting.
Still meant waiting.
Still meant being chased.
And Lucien hated that.
More importantly—
what if Death simply changed the rules?
What if it suddenly abandoned the sequence entirely?
He wasn't naïve enough to trust that an evil spirit would obediently follow patterns forever.
That was when another possibility surfaced in his mind.
Dreams.
Reality had rules.
Dreams didn't.
And during the police station investigation, the answer had struck him.
If reality couldn't kill Death—
perhaps dreams could.
The result proved he had been right.
Unfortunately…
the price had also been enormous.
Lucien slowly sat up.
The moment his feet touched the floor, his body felt strangely light.
Almost too light.
Months.
He hadn't slept that deeply in months.
Stretching his arms, he heard his joints crack pleasantly.
Just then, the door opened.
A nurse entered pushing a small cart.
The moment she saw Lucien standing beside the bed, her eyes widened.
"...You're awake!"
Without waiting for an answer, she turned and practically ran out.
Lucien: "..."
Not long afterward, several doctors rushed inside.
Questions followed immediately.
How do you feel?
Any headaches?
Dizziness?
Chest pain?
Hallucinations?
Lucien answered patiently for nearly ten minutes.
After repeated examinations confirmed that nothing was wrong, the chief doctor finally relaxed.
Then he suddenly took out his phone.
"Mr. Blackwood... would you mind if I make a call?"
Lucien looked at him.
The doctor smiled awkwardly.
"Miss Johnson specifically instructed us to contact her the moment you woke up."
Lucien raised an eyebrow.
"Scarlett woke up already?"
The doctor nodded immediately.
"Quite a while ago, actually."
Lucien looked genuinely surprised.
"When?"
The doctor coughed lightly.
"Shortly after arriving."
"And she insisted on staying to take care of you."
Lucien blinked.
Then he noticed the strange expression on the doctor's face.
"...But?"
The doctor's smile became increasingly awkward.
"Let's just say..."
"Miss Johnson's caregiving skills aren't... especially developed."
Lucien stared.
The doctor continued carefully:
"She nearly disconnected your IV twice."
"Pressed emergency buttons by accident."
"Argued with nurses."
"And almost attempted to wheel your bed outside because she thought fresh air would help recovery."
Silence.
Lucien lowered his head.
Then covered his face.
That absolutely sounded like Scarlett.
The doctor quickly continued.
"Besides her, Miss Hathaway visited."
"Jamie also came."
"And even police officers stopped by."
Lucien immediately stood.
"No need for more examinations."
"I'll contact them myself."
Hospitals weren't places he enjoyed.
Especially not when there was nothing actually wrong with him.
He found his old clothes neatly folded inside a cabinet nearby.
As he picked them up, he paused slightly.
A faint fragrance lingered on them.
Lucien stared for a moment.
Then realization flashed across his eyes.
"...She washed them."
Scarlett.
For some reason, that thought made him smile faintly.
The discharge procedures were completed quickly.
Soon afterward—
Lucien stepped outside.
The hospital wasn't far from his antique store.
Since traffic had already become crowded, he decided to walk.
Cold wind brushed across his face.
Winter was approaching.
Los Angeles winters weren't harsh compared to New York.
The weather stayed relatively mild.
Which also meant—
homeless people gathered here in enormous numbers.
Along roadside alleys, Lucien could see figures sitting together eating meals beside temporary shelters.
Some looked exhausted.
Others looked completely numb.
Lucien had lived here long enough to stop finding the sight unusual.
In his previous life, he remembered hearing stories about people dreaming of coming abroad for glamorous lives—
only to end up sleeping beneath overpasses.
Reality often hit harder than fantasy.
Lucien walked slowly.
Passing familiar streets.
Crossing old intersections.
Until finally—
he arrived at his antique shop.
He stopped outside quietly.
Then smiled.
"I'm back."
The interior was dark.
Silent.
He unlocked the door and entered.
Click.
Warm orange light illuminated countless antiques, artifacts, and dusty shelves.
Everything looked exactly the same.
Exactly as he left it.
Lucien spent a while cleaning.
Organizing.
Sweeping dust.
Straightening displays.
After hanging the business sign outside again, he boiled water and made tea.
Only then did he finally sit down.
The atmosphere felt peaceful.
Comfortable.
Home.
This time, instead of opening books to study, Lucien focused inward.
Three new abilities.
He still hadn't properly examined them.
The first:
You Go.
The description seemed strangely simple.
Things returning to their original position.
Movement according to will.
Distance manipulation.
Forced repositioning.
Lucien frowned.
"...Interesting."
Potentially useful.
Very useful.
But he still needed experimentation.
Then he looked at the second ability.
Swordsmanship.
The moment he read further—
his eyes brightened immediately.
Because this wasn't ordinary sword skill.
Not techniques.
Not forms.
Not combat moves.
This was Sword Dao.
Flying swords.
Riding blades through the sky.
Killing enemies thousands of miles away.
Sword immortals.
The real thing.
Lucien nearly sat upright instantly.
Every man—
regardless of age—
dreamed about wielding a sword someday.
Standing atop mountains.
Crossing heaven and earth.
Opening the gates of heaven with a single strike.
It was practically written into the soul.
Lucien took several deep breaths before calming down.
Then he looked toward the third ability.
Demon Slayer.
Simple.
Direct.
Absolute.
Anything categorized as evil could be targeted.
Spirits.
Monsters.
Ghosts.
Corrupted entities.
Even false gods.
All naturally suppressed.
Lucien narrowed his eyes slowly.
Because he suddenly remembered the terrifying existence he once encountered during his trip with Jamie.
Compared to Death—
that thing had been vastly more dangerous.
Lucien leaned back slightly.
"I wonder..."
"...how effective this would be against that thing."
Before he could think further—
his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen.
Jamie.
Lucien answered.
"Hello?"
Jamie's relieved voice immediately sounded.
"Lucien! You're out already?"
"Just finished discharge."
A loud exhale came from the other side.
"Thank God."
"I was worried something serious happened."
Lucien smiled slightly.
"What happened?"
Jamie's tone brightened instantly.
"Remember the appraisal event I mentioned before?"
Lucien paused.
Then nodded.
"The antique appraisal?"
"Exactly!"
"It's this weekend."
"I was worried you wouldn't recover in time."
Lucien's eyes narrowed slightly.
Treasure appraisal gatherings.
Collectors.
Experts.
Merchants.
And hidden treasures.
Potential supernatural objects too.
Interesting.
"Location?"
"A museum nearby."
Jamie laughed.
"There'll be people from several antique markets attending."
Then his voice became serious.
"Lucien."
"I mean it."
"With your ability, making a name for yourself won't be difficult."
Lucien stared silently at the tea rising with steam in front of him.
A faint smile appeared.
After Death.
After nightmares.
After endless danger—
life was becoming normal again.
But strangely enough—
he had a feeling that the appraisal meeting this weekend...
would not stay ordinary for very long.