I Was Hoping She Would Notice but again Now When She Did... Im Tired

“Sigh… it’s too hard to handle these situations,” Lucian muttered, dragging a hand through his messy black hair, fingers slipping through the strands in frustration.

The System offered no reply.

“These are the times I miss that bastard Max,” he exhaled again, voice softer, almost wistful. “Don’t even know how that motherfucker is doing now…”

His feet moved on their own as he followed the path the system had mapped out for him earlier. He didn’t care where it led his thoughts were heavier than his steps.

And then… Cassandra.

That damn complicated mess still gnawed at his mind.

What was his answer to her?

He said no… obviously. But even now, it didn’t feel like the right word. It hadn’t felt like a rejection, not really but it still was. He hadn’t shut her down coldly, no. Lucian had taken his time, his tone calm, patient. Gentle, even. Like someone handling something fragile. He explained, honestly, that he wasn’t ready. That he didn’t want to step into something he couldn’t return fully.

Well he doesn’t know honestly what was he living for now. Not to say love and marriage.

But still, he had seen her eyes.

God, those eyes.

Red from holding back tears, filled with pain that stabbed deeper into his own heart than he cared to admit. A tightness had clenched in his chest as she looked at him not with anger, but with hurt.

He hadn’t known what to do with that expression.

He never did.

The whole thing left him rattled. Off-balance. Conflicted.

Was this guilt?

Was this the price of being honest?

Even worse was he becoming like her?

Avey.

She’d rejected him back then too. He had once loved with everything he had, naive and burning with passion. He’d chased, persisted, hoped… only to be cast aside.

And now? He was the one turning away.

It felt ironic. Twisted.

Almost like karma had taken the wheel and turned it back toward him.

Tho he himself was terrified of rejection. He had lived it, swallowed it, suffocated under it thousands of times. He knew that pain like a second skin.

And now he was the one inflicting it.

First Celestia. Now Cassandra.

“Am I… becoming the kind of person I once hated?” he whispered, almost inaudible.

The question lingered.

Lucian shook his head hard, trying to dislodge the weight of that thought. It clung to his mind like cobwebs thin, annoying, impossible to fully brush away.

His boots clicked softly against the pavement as he approached the next turn. The taxi had dropped him here a while ago, and his clothes courtesy of the New-so- called “helpful” system clung uncomfortably to him. Black pants, a fitted white shirt, and a sleek black blazer that screamed too classy for a casual day.

Of course, the system had insisted.

[Villains don’t dress sloppy. Class is mandatory.]

Lucian scoffed internally.

It wasn’t just uncomfortable. It was attention grabbing every pair of eyes on the street subtly shifted toward him. Some curious, some admiring, most just judging.

He hated it.

“I’ll buy something else later,” he mumbled, tugging at the sleeve, already imagining something looser. Something less loud.

But then his eyes landed on the building up ahead and his steps stopped short.

A hotel.

Not just any hotel.

“…There we go again” he sighed.

It was the same hotel.

The one where he’d first opened his eyes after death.

Where he’d woken up after the regression.

Where he’d first felt the weight of his second chance settling on his shoulders like an invisible crown and a noose.

“Never thought I’d come back here,” he murmured, gaze locked on the building like it had clawed its way out of his past to haunt him.

And in that moment, Max’s words returned. Clear. Echoing in the space of his mind like a ghost. He had spoken at that time

[Host, let it go.]

[You’ve been given a second chance. Don’t waste it making the same mistakes. This time, try something new. Find someone who sees you. Someone who loves you. Someone who’s worthy.]

A faint smile tugged at Lucian’s lips remembering those words.

Bittersweet.

Wistful.

He could still hear Max’s voice. The one who’d stood beside him, laughed with him, and told him to live when he himself was too tired to try.

Am i Missing that mfr already?

Lucian shook his head again, chasing away the swarm of emotions buzzing in his chest.

“Now what, System? Where do I go next?” Lucian asked, his voice steady but distant, as his fingers idly toyed with the hem of his sleeve.

[Inside, Host.]

The system’s cold, monotonous reply buzzed in his mind like a machine void of empathy.

“Inside the hotel?” Lucian raised an eyebrow, exhaling in quiet frustration. “At least tell me where. And what’s inside?”

[You wouldn’t need to ask. You’ll understand soon enough.]

The voice was vague. Deliberately so.

Lucian clicked his tongue but didn’t argue. His curiosity was piqued but wariness curled within his chest.

He took a step forward.

Whatever. Let’s just get it over with.

Thankfully, thanks to his classy appearance, no one stopped him at the entrance.

His footsteps echoed faintly on the hotel floor as he entered, the lobby dimly lit with soft chandeliers. He scanned the area absently.

And then

His eyes halted.

His breath hitched.

In the far corner of the lounge, almost tucked away in shadows and silence, sat two figures.

Lucian’s gaze sharpened.

A chuckle dry and bitterescaped his lips.

Of course.

Sitting there, like a cursed memory repeating itself, were Avey and Victor. The same place. The same damn table. Just like that day.

Lucian’s face was unreadable, but inside, something twisted.

“What a weird fate I have,” he murmured under his breath, voice almost sarcastic almost pained.

He didn’t move. He just stood there, eyes fixed on the two of them. Avey’s side profile caught in the golden lighting, Victor’s smug posture as he leaned forward, laughing.

They looked comfortable.

Too comfortable.

Lucian’s fingers twitched.

His jaw clenched as he watched them sip their coffees, laugh softly, completely unaware of the storm standing a few feet away.

So I was just imagining it, huh?

All those moments… the way she acted lately… like she’d finally seen me really seen me. That apology. That confession. That damn proposal.

Was all of it just a game? A phase?

He scoffed under his breath, the sound hollow.

Or maybe… she was just lonely.

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair, trying to dislodge the thoughts clawing at his skull.

“And here I was thinking she’d be worried… at least a little. I’ve been gone for three whole days without a trace. I could’ve been dead for all she knew.”

His heart gave a soft tug but he didn’t let it show. Not on his face. Not in his posture.

But she’s here. Smiling. Coffee. With him.

It wasn’t jealousy not really. Not the possessive kind.

It was something more bitter.

It was the realization that someone who once knew him deeply, painfully, entirely didn’t even notice his absence.

That… hurt more than he wanted to admit.

Lucian let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head.

“God, I really was an idiot.”

He turned slightly, just enough to step away. Just enough to leave without causing a scene. His expression was calm serene even but his eyes? They told a different story.

But just as he pivoted to walk out

Her gaze met his.

Avey.

Their eyes locked.

Lucian froze. His heart jumped once just once.

And yet, even in that moment… he didn’t break eye contact.

He waited.

Expected something.

Anything.

Maybe surprise. Regret. A sign that she felt something. That she noticed him.

But Avey… blinked.

And then…

She looked away.

She broke eye contact.

Looked down.

As if she hadn’t seen him at all. As if he didn’t exist.

Lucian inhaled slowly.

No anger. No rage. Just a quiet, deep emptiness.

A numbness that spread like frost across his chest.

He smiled.

Not the bitter one from earlier.

This one was different.

Soft gentle the brightest smile he knew. Almost beautiful.

“I see,” he whispered to himself, voice so quiet it wouldn’t even stir dust.

“I guess… I made the right choice rejecting all past days she doesn’t love me no… Doesn’t care about me even if i die or not. She was faking it all along.”

His lips curled into the brightest smile he could manage.

And then he turned.

He didn’t say goodbye.

He didn’t glance back.

His footsteps echoed as he walked out, each step a little heavier than the last.

Behind him, Avey lifted her eyes again this time trembling.

She watched his back as he left.

She saw the slump in his shoulders, the way his spine slightly curled as if he’d lost something weightless but essential.

She opened her mouth but nothing came out.

Her throat tightened.

Her fingers dug into the fabric of her dress under the table.

And when the door finally closed behind him.

She leaned back fully into her chair.

Head tilted against the frame, neck exposed.

Eyes closed.

As if trying to escape the this weird feeling blooming in her chest.

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