Beep. Beep. Beep.
The heart monitor pulsed steadily in the dimly lit hospital room.
Two men in WFAB uniforms stood beside the bed, staring at the pale figure lying motionless. One had his arm in a sling; the other's head was wrapped in thick bandages.
"Think he'll make it?" asked the one with the sling.
"He better," grumbled the bandaged man. "I owe him a full-blown punch to the face. Ugh… my head's killing me. You didn't tell my Sweeches about this, did you?"
"I don't think she'll miss that swollen melon you're wearing," the other chuckled. "Looks like someone gift-wrapped a watermelon."
"Oh, shut up, Davis. As if you'll get any luckier with your hooligan. She'll break your other arm for sure."
Isaac's voice was dry, sarcastic—but alive.
Davis smirked. "Still… we got lucky this time."
His gaze drifted, remembering the chaos of the night before.
******
Flashback…
"Well, too bad for you," the goon sneered, pulling out his gun and aiming it at Isaac's head. "Say goodbye, agent. I'll see you in hell."
"NO!!" Davis screamed.
Bang! Bang!
Gunshots rang out.
Davis felt his heart stop....certain his captain had been hit.
But to his surprise, he saw the goon staggering and blood oozing out of his mouth before collapsing on the ground.
Then..
"WFAB! Hands up! You're all under arrest! Get on the ground—now!"
Sirens blared. Red and blue lights sliced through the darkness.
Davis blinked, stunned, then scrambled to his feet and rushed to Isaac's side.
"Captain… Captain… hang in there. You're gonna be alright. Get the paramedics—now!"
Medics arrived just as Isaac lost consciousness. He was rushed into the ambulance, treated immediately.
Even the wounded goon was taken in.
Present Time…
"We truly were lucky," Isaac murmured, staring at the ceiling. "I don't know how I'd have faced my Sweeches in the afterlife… dying before marrying her, before that honeymoon cruise—with a horse."
Davis snorted. "You'd probably show up with another swollen watermelon head. Knowing our hooligans, we'd still get an earful and a beating for being reckless—even in the afterlife."
Isaac chuckled. "Yeah… we'd never hear the end of it."
Suddenly—
"Lord Phillips, if thou shalt ever die without me placing the edge of this blade into thy chest, then I swear I shall hunt thee down and kill thee—even in the afterlife! For I am not the Maiden of the Rose for nothing!"
"AAAH!"
Isaac yelped, clutching his head as pain surged through his skull. The voice echoed inside his mind—sharp, and furious.
"Isaac!.... Isaac..... are you okay?" Davis's voice sounded distant, warped, like it was underwater for a while until it became clear.
"Isaac! Isaac! Are you okay? Should I call the doctor?"
Isaac blinked, the pain slowly ebbing. "No… no, I'm fine. Just a mild migraine. Nothing to worry about."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. Very sure." He whispered the last words more to himself than to Davis—trying to convince himself that what he'd just heard was a hallucination. Just a side effect of the injury. Nothing more.
He hoped.
"Good afternoon, agents."
The two men turned to see an elderly doctor entering the room. He looked to be in his early sixties, with silver hair and a calm, clinical demeanor. He approached the bed, checked the vitals, scribbled something on his clipboard, then turned to face them.
"So?" Isaac asked, voice tight. "How is he, Doctor? He's going to live, right?"
The doctor hesitated.
"I'm sorry, detectives. I wish I could give you good news… but I'm afraid it's not that simple."
Isaac and Davis exchanged bewildered glances, then turned back to the doctor.
"What do you mean?" Davis asked.
The doctor hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "The man is alive… technically. He's breathing. But he's completely unresponsive to treatment. The bullets didn't damage his organs enough to explain this level of shutdown. It's as if… something else killed him. Something that took his soul but left the body intact."
He paused, eyes troubled. "And what's more disturbing—there's nothing wrong. His brain shows no trauma, no swelling, no bleeding. It's healthy. But it's also… dead. No activity. No response."
The agents stared at him, lost.
The doctor sighed and tried again. "Imagine his brain is an apple. It looks perfect—shiny, firm, no bruises. Inside, it's just as pristine. But when you bite into it… there's no taste. Not sweet. Not bitter. Just… nothing."
He continued, voice low. "If it were sweet, we could trace the nutrients that made it so. If bitter, we could investigate what went wrong. But this? It's blank. No cause. No trace. Just emptiness."
"So you're saying his brain looks fine," Davis said slowly, "but it's functionally dead. And you can't explain why."
"Exactly," the doctor replied. "So I am afraid my dear agents that it seems like you are waiting for a resurrection of dead man not a recovery. His case has thrown all my years in medical school and as a doctor out of the window. It is actually a phenomenon that can't be explained."
He gave a dry chuckle. "Unless if you believe in those fantasies like the 'Sleeping Princess'. Only this time, it's a 'Sleeping Prince'.At least we know what could awaken the princess, a true love's kiss. But in this case....we have absolutely no idea."
Isaac nodded solemnly. "Thank you, Doctor. We appreciate your help. Our top specialists will take over from here. If you don't mind?"
"Not at all," the doctor said, giving a respectful nod. "If they can crack this mystery, I'll be the first to applaud. Good luck, agents."
He exited the room, leaving a heavy silence behind.
"What do you think?" Davis asked.
Isaac rubbed his forehead, wincing at the lingering pain. "I don't know, Davis. But I need answers. I'm tired of wandering through this mist of mystery. I need a way out of this maze."
He stood slowly. "I'm going to rest. We leave for Luz tomorrow. If I have to face my Sweeches's wrath, I'd rather do it after a well-earned rest. Tell Tess to handle the bastard's transfer—quietly. I smell moles in this town. It won't be long before they catch wind of what happened."
"Got it. I'll make sure everything's done discreetly. Rest well, Captain."
Isaac gave one last glance at the pale figure on the bed, then turned and left.
....
In his room, he sank onto the bed, head resting against the pillow. The ache in his skull pulsed gently.
Then—
"Patricia, who is this? And why does she look like you?"
"That's Queen Adriana Wiltshire of Arlene… better known as Lady Rose."
"If thou shouldst know, I am called The Maiden of the Rose, a reverend warrior chosen by Lady Wisdom herself to fight, protect, and defend our people unto death."
"Lady Rose… history says she was known for her brilliance, bravery, and tactical genius."
"Lord Phillips, if thou ever shalt die without me placing the edge of this blade into thy chest, then I swear I shall hunt thee down—even in the afterlife! For I am not the Maiden of the Rose for nothing!"
Hissss!
"AAAAH!"
Isaac clutched his head, pain exploding behind his eyes as the voices echoed like thunder.
When the agony finally ebbed, he growled through clenched teeth:
"What the hell is going on?"
.....
"Here are the keys to the house. We have agents placed all across the area, so if anything tries to happen, we will respond immediately." Said a woman handing over the keys to Nicole.
She wore a grey tracksuit and white slippers, her hair tied into a messy bun.
"Thank you," Nicole murmured, accepting the keys.
"It's okay, Ms. Swerver. If you need anything, press the green button on your wristband. Trouble? Press the red one. Got it?"
"Yes… thanks."
"Good. I'll leave you to settle in. Have a good evening."
With that, the woman turned and left.
Nicole sighed, watching her go. She began surveying the house—two bedrooms, a small kitchen, dining room, and living room. It was modest, a far cry from her luxurious Roseville home with six bedrooms and sprawling spaces. But it was cozy. Safe.
"Where do you want me to put your bags?"
Nicole jumped at the sudden voice.
She turned to see her brother, dressed head-to-toe in black—t-shirt, jeans, sneakers. He held her bags with one hand and revealed another with camouflage prints.
"Jeez… did you have to sneak up on me like that? And what's with the combat chic? We're not going into battle."
"Better to be ready than caught off guard," Simeon replied. "I call dibs on the ground floor bedroom. You, missy, get the upstairs."
"Wait—you're staying here? With me?"
"Why not? I don't trust these WFAB agents. Who better to protect you than me?"
"But what about Mom and Dad? They could be in danger too. If anyone finds out I'm alive—"
"You're dead, Nicky. Everyone believes that. And your boyfriend's boss already placed agents with them. You're the one who needs protection. I'm not taking chances. You got lucky last time—I'm not counting on luck again."
He hoisted the bags and headed upstairs.
Nicole sighed watching him disappear upstairs. She then went to the kitchen and started rummaging through the cabinets for groceries to make supper.
After a while, Simeon joined her and the two of them started preparing dinner in silence.
"When are you going back to work?" Nicole asked breaking the silence during dinner.
Simeon sighed. "Only when they need me." He then continued to eat his food.
Nicole sighed. "That's not a clear answer you know? You're lieutenant of the country's most important defence factors. I'll be surprised if you could stay for more than a month without being called back to duty."
"There's barely any threats that need our attention so far, so it's no big deal. However with the scoop that you confessed to me two nights ago. I can feel a war brewing in the air. And I don't like it that you are involved in it. I don't like it at all." Said Simeon as he finished his food and drank some water.
Nicole scoffed. "Well unfortunately dear brother, it's too late to turn back now. I am going to try to stop these bastards before they continue to destroy this world. I can't sit back and watch as they control us like puppets or turn this world into their own death show. They have done far enough damage and they need to be stopped. "
Simeon sighed. "How are you going to stop them exactly. By chasing ghosts! These people are dangerous, and the only reason why they are roaming free it's because they have the world in their hands. Which is why it is very difficult to stop them. Not that you will listen anyway."
He then suddenly stood up and began collecting the plates.
"I'll do the dishes. Go and relax. You're still not well."
Nicole did not reply but just sighed and watched her brother disappear into the kitchen to do the dishes.
Later, he returned to find Nicole standing at the window, gazing out. The house was nestled deep in the forest, shielded from the bustling city beyond. Distant lights shimmered like stars fallen to earth.
She sighed.
"Will I ever get to enjoy my life again?" she whispered.
Simeon's heart cracked. His sister had always been vibrant, full of laughter and light. She thrived on adventure, not confinement.
This situation was a big change for her and he was wondering if her old self will rise and shine again or she is left to fade away as a distant memory.....
He walked over and stood beside her in silence. After a moment, he wrapped her in a side hug.
Together, they watched the city lights dance in the distance—flickers of a world that felt just out of reach.
....
Meanwhile, Back in Costa Rica…
Crash!!
Crash!!
Furniture shattered as The Bull Dog rampaged through his office, smashing everything in sight. He moved like a beast unchained, eyes pitch black—no whites, no mercy.
"Son of a bitch!! Son of a bitch!!!"
He heaved like a rabid hound, breath ragged, fury boiling over.
After obliterating the last of the furniture, he staggered to his broken desk, gripping it for support.
Just then
Ding.
His phone buzzed with a message.
He opened it.
And froze.
His face drained of color, pale as a ghost. The phone slipped from his hand and hit the floor with a dull thud.
"Aaaah!!!"
"Aaaah!!!"
Blood-curdling screams echoed inside his skull—memories clawing their way up from the abyss. A haunting fragment of his past, one he thought he had buried forever, now resurfaced with vengeance.
The message meant only one thing.
He messed up. He'd been found out.
The moment he didn't receive a message from his goons, he knew everything was fucked up.
And now, he had one mission: to destroy the threat before it sprouts. Or be destroyed himself.
The ticking of a clock rang in his ears—loud, relentless, like a countdown to doom.
"AAAAH!" He roared.
The Bull Dog clutched his head, trembling violently as the screams grew louder. His gaze locked onto the phone lying on the floor.
The image on the screen was grotesque.
Baby doll heads hung from a tree, their eyes pitch black, leaking a thick, ominous black liquid like tears. Beneath them, scrawled in bold red letters:
"THE OGRE SENDS HIS LOVE."