As Sergei Ricci stepped into the hospital corridor, intending to leave, the chatter of a few nurses caught his attention. Though they spoke in hushed voices, their excitement was impossible to miss.
"They're here again! My eyes have been blessed! Even if they extend my shift, I don't care."
"That's nothing. Tristan Felan smiled at me—smiled! I thought I'd die."
"But does anyone know what happened to Shin Keir? I heard he's a patient."
Sergei froze in his tracks.
Shin Keir… is here?
He turned sharply. "Stop right there," he ordered, his tone laced with authority as he approached the three nurses.
The women exchanged uneasy glances.
"Tell me about Shin Keir," Sergei demanded, eyes narrowing.
They hesitated. Ever since Dr. Zahn Neri returned from his medical mission and took over hospital operations, the institution had transformed. Regulations were strictly enforced, and several staff members—some with long tenures—had been fired for breaching patient confidentiality.
"We have no idea," one nurse quickly replied, while the others nodded in agreement, lips sealed.
Sergei frowned. Rejection wasn't something he was accustomed to. As a Ricci—heir to one of the most powerful elite families and a CEO—his words usually moved mountains. His pride flared.
"Someone clearly said 'they're here again.' I'm merely an acquaintance. No need to worry," he said smoothly, attempting to leverage his charm.
But the nurses remained resolute, nervously shaking their heads. One of them finally suggested, "You can ask at the reception desk, sir."
Annoyance surged through him, but he kept his expression composed. Unfortunately, this wasn't his turf—and Zahn Neri commanded respect even from someone like him.
He gave the nurses one last pointed glare before striding off toward the reception desk.
The hospital's security had been notably strict lately—particularly on the VIP floor. There had been cases of several unauthorized attempts to access certain patients, could be paparazzis.
After waiting for what felt like an eternity, Sergei was finally granted access to the VIP floor.
---
Meanwhile, at the corridor, just outside a private ward, Tristan Felan leaned against the wall casually as he spoke with Dr. Zahn Neri.
"When he wakes up, make sure he doesn't yank the IV out," Zahn said, stern but calm. "No matter how healthy he is, the human body still needs rest. He should eat on time and cut back on smoking."
"I'll try," Tristan chuckled. "You'd be surprised. He's actually changing lately."
"Changing?" Zahn raised a skeptical brow.
"Secretary Yun said he's been asking for desserts—can you believe that? And he's been limiting board meetings to actual business hours. Even started scrolling through social media."
A rare flicker of astonishment crossed Zahn's usually unreadable face. Shin Keir hated sweets like they're humanity's most treacherous invention.
Tristan grinned. "Looks like someone's got an influence on him."
Zahn allowed himself a slight smirk. "Didn't expect his girlfriend to be that influential."
At that exact moment, just around the corner, someone's footsteps came to a halt.
Sergei's eyes widened.
Girlfriend? Shin Keir has a girlfriend?
A jolt shot through him. His deranged sister Calin, for once, might not be hallucinating. Her obsession with Shin Keir was annoying at best—but maybe her wild instincts weren't entirely off base.
Still, Sergei couldn't believe it. No, no… he must've misheard. They're probably talking about someone else.
Yet a seed of doubt took root.
Sergei wasn't at all a stranger with Shin or Tristan. They all attended the same elite academy years ago, though in different year levels. Despite that, their social circles often collided.
Sergei liked to tell himself that his dislike of Shin's group was due to an old prank in high school. But deep down, he knew it wasn't just that.
There were uglier reasons: envy, inferiority, and a gnawing resentment that never quite left him.
He waited until Dr. Neri finally left. Once the hallway was clear, he approached and knocked on the door.
Tristan answered. His gaze dropped to the bandage on Sergei's forehead, and his grin widened.
"What kind of woman did you offend to end up like that?"
"It's just a scratch. I fell. Don't talk nonsense." Sergei's glare could've melted steel. "I heard you were here but didn't expect Shin's a patient."
He would never admit he'd eavesdropped on the nurses. The last thing he wanted was to boost Tristan's ego over how good-looking he apparently was.
Fell? With Sergei's arrogant personality, who could possibly harm him when he's almost always surrounded by bodyguards? It must have been someone close who caught him off guard. Besides, he's so petty he would've made a huge scene—called an ambulance, dragged the media in, and destroyed whoever dared to touch him.
But Tristan hadn't heard a word of it—no news, no scandal. Clearly, it's something Sergei is desperate to keep quiet. It's either his mother… or that Shin-obsessed sister of his, Calin.
"Just a fever," Tristan said nonchalantly, blocking the doorway. "He'll be discharged tomorrow. But it's past visiting hours—you can't go in."
Sergei narrowed his eyes. A fever? Shin Keir, voluntarily in the hospital? Sounds suspicious.
Tristan smiled with that same maddening calm. "Right, If you want to catch up, let's schedule something later. Been a while since high school, huh?"
At the mention of high school, Sergei flinched ever so slightly. "Well, since it's nothing serious, I'll take my leave."
He glanced at the door again, but Tristan didn't budge. Suspicion churned in his gut.
Without another word, Sergei turned and walked away.
As soon as he was gone, Tristan pulled out his phone and issued a quiet command: "Find out what Sergei Ricci is doing here."
---
With Sergei suddenly dangling himself in front of him, Tristan recalled that certain time in high school.
There was once a time when Shin and Tristan shared a villa near their school. Saeki often dropped by, and even Zahn—reluctantly—became a part of their small, infamous circle.
It was during their third year that something strange happened. Rumors began spreading around campus—scandalous, immoral and grotesque stories about what went on in their villa. Underground crimes. Dark rituals, Orgy parties and drugs.
Eventually, they traced the source of those whispers: Sergei Ricci.
The idiot had too much of a great imagination—and far too much spite. So, they decided to help him feed his fantasies.
With Saeki's family ties to the entertainment world, they staged the villa's basement into a grotesque slaughterhouse. They used realistic props: hanging corpses, bloody walls, rotting stench—everything designed to stimulate the mind of an overactive, self-important teenager.
Then, on Sergei's birthday, they invited him over for a celebration and that night, they dragged him—blindfolded—into the basement for his present.
The result?
Sergei screamed like a dying pig. Snot ran down his face, and he wet himself from fear. It seemed he was greatly stimulated, he avoided them entirely after that, treating them like the plague.
He even tried to transfer schools, though his parents refused. They were too eager to cozy up to the Keir family to allow something as inconvenient as their son's pride to interfere.
Tristan smiled faintly at the memory. Now, years later, Sergei was lurking again—what is he up to?
---
Sergei was already in the underground parking lot, leaning back in the driver's seat of his black luxury sedan. The hospital's fluorescent lighting cast pale reflections over the windshield, flickering like ghosts. His phone vibrated beside him on the console. He glanced at the caller ID.
Mother.
He let it ring, watching the name pulse like a heartbeat before it finally stopped. He could guess why she was calling. Likely to ask if Calin had shown up at his penthouse.
Sergei wondered—if he told their mother, would she take his side? Or would she, as always, choose her beloved daughter?
Not that it mattered. Not really. He was still seething—over the shattered vase, the blood staining his floor, and the storm of drama Calin had dragged in uninvited.
Still, his gaze drifted to the ceiling of the car, mind ticking.
Shin Keir has a girlfriend.
The words Tristan and Zahn had exchanged replayed in his head like a slow echo, looping louder each time. At first, it had just been about curiosity. Then disbelief. Now… opportunity.
He slowly picked up the phone again—this time searching through his contacts. His finger hovered over a name: Calin.
She was deranged, unstable, obsessive. But she was also useful. Dangerous, yes, but like all weapons, it depended on how you wielded her.
A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Let her go crazy somewhere else.
Sergei pressed dial.
The call connected quickly. No surprise—she was probably waiting for someone to contact her. The moment Calin's voice came through, it was a breathless, agitated whisper.
"Sergei? You better have a good reason for calling me at this hour."
No guilt. No remorse. Just brittle hostility.
He didn't waste time. "You are right. Shin Keir has a woman."
The silence on the other end was immediate and absolute.
Then a cold, broken laugh. "That's not funny, Sergei. Are you getting back to me because of earlier?"
"I'm not joking." His voice dropped to a casual, offhand tone—exactly the kind that twisted knives in the gut. "I overheard it myself. Tristan and Zahn Neri were talking about her. Oh, and Shin Keir? He's here. As a patient."