4 finally Releive...done

The man let out a deep, hollow laugh as he slumped in his worn chair, his eyes clouded with a mix of bitterness and resignation. He allowed the sadness to wash over him like a cold wave, settling deep within. His voice low, carried a heavy weight of defeat.

"Well, well, Max. What a shitty life I had, didn't I?" lucian muttered, a sad smile hanging on his lips, like a mask he had worn too long. "It would've been better if I hadn't gotten a second chance at all."

i really wish...i didn't

[Host, you chose the wrong people to love…] Max's voice came through, devoid of its usual robotic detachment, almost as though he too felt the pain the man was in. [They don't deserve you in their lives. Even now, I'd say just forget them. You can live a wonderful life without love.]

The man chuckled darkly, the sound almost a scoff. "Ha! That's rich, hearing that from you. Aren't you a love system? Weren't you supposed to turn me into some kind of hero of romance, doing love tasks and winning hearts?

its funny don't you think maxy hehe

There was silence for moment, as if even system itself didn't quite know how to respond.

Then, after sometime which felt like eternity, Max's voice came again, quieter this time. [That's why I exist, Host. Believe me when I say this one-sided love isn't a thing in this world. The more effort you put into love, the less you often get in return.]

The man leaned his head back, staring up at the cracked ceiling, his sad smile deepening with an almost bitter amusement. "What a wonderful world we live in, huh? Out of all the billions of people on this planet, I managed to pick just wrong ones to love. Every. Single. Time again anf again." He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I really wish I didn't have a heart at all, Max.just Imagine that… loving someone without the burden of feelings. It wouldve so much easier sighh.

His voice quieter, softer, like the confession of a man who had long since given up. "The heart… the love that's supposed to make you feel alive, make you feel happy it also hurts you the most. People can forget the pain of a broken arm, a deep scar, even being crushed under a boulder. With time, those kinds of wounds heal. But love? It hurts more as time passes. It doesn't fade. It's like a scar that gets deeper the longer you live with it. Isn't that something, Max?"

The man's eyes glistened, though no tears fell. "If someone were to ask me what the most painful torture in the world is, I'd tell them to make someone fall in love. And then… don't love them back. Believe me, Max, that person will remember that pain until the day they die."

He suddenly paused as thinking of something, his hands gripping the edges of his chair as if grounding himself in that moment of vulnerability. "So, Max, why don't you go ahead and rate my efforts over this shitty life of mine? Let's take a look at your data panel, huh?"

i really am curious

[On what basis would you like me to rate, Host?] Max asked, its usual robotic tone returning, though there was an undercurrent of something almost… empathetic.

The man's bitter smile widened. "Well, of course. Did I love enough? Did I love in the right way? Did I know how to love?"

There was a brief pause, and then Max answered in that steady, neutral voice. [It's a perfect score, Host. One hundred percent. If it weren't for the people you were bound to the characters of the novel or the plot they would've definitely loved you back. Your love was boundless. Even I, as your system, am honored to have chosen someone like you as my Host.]

The man let out a low, humorless laugh, rubbing his chin as if he were contemplating Max's words. "A hundred out of a hundred, huh? And yet, after all that, I couldn't even get the girl I practically sacrificed my life for. That's rich." He sighed, shaking his head, and then looked up toward the ceiling again. "As for that 'honor,' Max? I think I'm the one who should be honored. You were a big help on this long, torturous journey of mine. More than you know."

His voice grew quieter, more introspective. "You know, you once said they were just characters, part of a plot. That they were bound by something I couldn't control. I still can't believe I was that unlucky. That out of all the possible fates, I was destined to fall in love with people who couldn't love me back, bound by some kind of twisted narrative. It's almost funny… I was a villain in their story all along, wasn't I?"

He smiled again, the sadness heavy in his expression. "Even when you told me about this when I turned eighteen, I didn't believe it. I didn't want to believe in that bullshit. Fate? Plot? No. I didn't believe in any of that. I believed in effort. In how much love you pour into something. I thought one day, maybe one day, they all will see it. They'll see me. See my efforts. See how much I cared."

just how much they really mean for me

His voice cracked slightly, betraying the emotions he had been holding back for so long. "I dreamed about that day, Max. I dreamed of moment when they'd finally see me with eyes full of love. But I guess… I wasn't protagonist in this story, huh? I wasn't meant to win. I never was meant to be loved."

For a long while, there was silence. man closed his eyes, feeling the weight of words settle over like a suffocating blanket.

When he opened them again, his gaze was empty, devoid of the fire that had once driven him. "I didn't lose to anyone else, Max. I lost to myself. That's what hurts the most. I fought so hard, and in the end, the one I couldn't beat… was me."

lucian let out a long, shaky breath, as if releasing the last of the fight he had left in him. "I'm tired, Max. So damn tired. I don't want to care about them anymore. I don't want them. I just want to enjoy what's left of my life. But… I don't think am strong enough for that. Not anymore."

[Host,] Max's voice came, quiet and steady, [You are stronger than you think. You're just choosing to let go right now. You still have the strength to live a life beyond this. You have things that could make even the most powerful people in the world bow before you. And yet, you're ready to throw all that away for someone who doesn't deserve it. I'm against it, Host. She doesn't deserve your love. No… not anymore. Never.]

The man closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of those words sink in. When he opened them, his gaze was softer, more resigned. "I knew you'd say that, Max. you always were the practical one sighhh." He sighed again, a long, weary exhale. "But there's more to this decision than just her, you know. There are a lot of reasons why I've come to this point."

He paused, letting the silence stretch out between him and the system, as if he were gathering the last bits of courage to voice his final thoughts.

"First of all… I can't do this anymore. I'm tired, Max. I'm so damn tired. My heart… it's broken. It's shattered beyond repair. It can't carry anyone else in there anymore. There's no space left for love. I don't even know if there's any space left for me."

He looked down at his hands, his fingers tracing invisible lines on the armrests of the chair. "You know, in my last life, I used to say my heart was small. Not many people could fit in there, but it was strong. I used to tell myself that small things are hard to break. thought my heart was stronger than a diamond. That no one could shatter it."

Man smiled, the sadness in his expression deepening. "But guess I was wrong, Max. My heart wasn't strong. It was fragile. And despite everything I did to protect it, to repair it when it cracked… it crumbled. Over and over again. And what's worse… it wasn't my enemies or my rivals who broke it. It was the people I loved most. The ones I would've died for."

His voice dropped to a whisper, as if he were speaking to ghosts of his past. "The people I couldn't imagine hurting… were the ones who destroyed me."

He clenched his hands into fists, his knuckles turning white as he tried to keep the raw pain from spilling out. "And third… I need to prove something to her. One last time. I need her to know that I loved her. That I wouldve given my life if she really had asked me. Maybe it's stupid. Maybe it's pointless. But I have to do this."

and i will do it... just to prove her

The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, the decision settling in. He smiled again, though there was no joy in it, only a deep, aching sorrow. "It's time to prove it, Max. To prove that even after everything...I still would have given everything for her"

There was a knock on the door again, pulling Lucian out of his thoughts.

This time, it wasn't a lawyer. The soft sound of the knock seemed heavier like the weight of what was about to happen was already pressing down on the world around him.

The door creaked open slowly, and the doctor walked in. He was holding a folder of paperwork in his hands. His movements were tentative, and his expression was filled with nervous apprehension as if he were about to do something deeply wrong.

"Hello, Mr. Kane," the doctor began, but Lucian raised his right hand, cutting him off before he could even continue.

"It's Lucian. I am no longer attached to the Kanes, not anymore. Just call me Lucian."

The doctor blinked, stupefied by this weird request. The name Kane carried weight, power, and legacy. But here was this man who had willingly discarded it, as if it were nothing. The doctor cleared his throat awkwardly as he approached the small table near Lucian's chair, laying the folders in his hand.

You don't know what you are asking. Sigh. Don't you know, once it's done, you can never go back... and Also, we can't just go with a heart transplant without any formalities... Please, I beg you, don't make it hard for me... I have kids too.

"I know what I am asking," Lucian interrupted, his voice emotionless.

His eyes looking intthe o doctors with calmness. "I am clear on my decision. There's nothing to discuss.

Give me the papers, and let's get this done fast."

The doctor hesitated, sweat on his forehead. His eyes were looking at papers, but his mind was racing. It's not normal.

Boy... I have to ask... doctor finally couldn't take it and asked, his voice faltering and struggling

"Why? Why are you doing this sigh? You are healthy. There's no medical reason to do this. Why are you destroying your life like this?"

Lucian exhaled his breathing low. So many emotions flickering on his face: pain, exhaustion, and something even deeper, which for someone his age... is rare.

It's like he already has made peace with the end.

"No need to ask anything," Lucian said, his voice low and full of sighs, as if he were holding back the tides of emotions within. "I am not in the mood to explain ANYTHING. Just know that this is what I've chosen to do. And I'm doing it now."

And I will do it... no matter what

The doctor swallowed hard, his throat dry as he tried to process the weight of Lucian's words. "Y-yes… ohk, sir. I won't ask anymore," he stammered. This wasn't a routine procedure; it was something much darker, much more final.

"So," Lucian said, breaking the silence as he stood up from his chair, "when are we doing this?

The doctor's hands trembled slightly as he adjusted his grip on the folder. "We... we can proceed now if you'd like. Everything's ready. We already completed your tests, and sadly enough, you have no medical complications preventing us from starting the procedure. We can begin anytime."

Lucian ignored Doctor Jabb, only nodding, his face an unreadable mask. "Good. am ready."

But the doctor hesitated again, unable to suppress concern. "Boy, please… are you sure? You don't have to die just to save her. There are other options. You can donate your heart to Miss Avey.

After transplanting your heart into hers, we can't just put some other heart into yours... with which you can give your heart to hers, and you can live too... What you say, doctor, said slowly, trying to...

Didn't I already say...

"I don't want to live," Lucian said, cutting him off with eerie finality. His eyes looked into the doctor's, and for a second, the air in the room felt suffocating.

The calm exterior Lucian maintained cracked, just for a second, revealing the deep, cavernous emptiness in him. "Didn't I already tell you? I'm DONE. There's no need to keep dragging this again and again. Am giving her my heart, and that's all there is to it."

Don't try your luck doctor.

Doctor's face paled his throat tightening due to fear and discomfort. There was something about Lucian's tone, something so absolute, that made the doctor feel like he was standing on the edge of the precipice, staring into the dark and unfathomable void.

"But...imagine if you survived," the doctor began hesitantly, his voice shaking, "you'd be able to..."

Lucian eyes narrowed dangerously. "Believe me," he said his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "If I woke up tomorrow, you'll never see the light again. Am not here to survive. I am here to end this."

The doctor gulped, visibly shaken by the sudden shift. He nodded quickly, his palms sweaty as he fumbled with the papers in hand. "Yes yes... I understand," he stammered, clearly terrified of what Lucian might do if he didn't follow through.

As the doctor shifted nervously, Lucian's expression softened a little, his mind drifting back to the task at hand. He reached to his pocket and pulled out his phone, staring at it for a moment before speaking again.

"After I'm gone," Lucian said quietly, his voice filled with a sadness so deep it almost seemed to echo in the small room, "call this number." He handed the doctor a slip of paper with a phone number scrawled on it in his sharp handwriting. "Tell them I'm no longer alive. And give them this."

Lucian held out his phone, his fingers lingering on it for a moment before releasing it into the doctor's trembling hand. "The person on the other end… he'll know what to do. Tell him to check my gallery. He knows my password." Lucian's voice wavered, just for a second, as he added, "It's my last request, not an order. Please, do this for me."

The doctor stared at the phone in his hand, his heart pounding in his chest. This was no ordinary patient. There was so much pain in Lucian's words, so much finality in his actions, that it was almost too much to bear. But he nodded, his voice barely a whisper. "I… I'll do it, Mr. Lucian. I'll make sure everything is handled."

Lucian's eyes locked onto the doctor's, a strange mix of gratitude and resignation flickering in their depths. "Thank you," he said softly. "That's all I need."

With that, Lucian turned toward the door, his back straight, his face calm as if he were preparing for a routine appointment. But inside, the storm was raging. His heart, broken beyond repair, was screaming with a thousand unsaid words, a thousand emotions that he would never voice.

"Let's go," Lucian said firmly, his voice steady despite the hurricane inside him. "It's time."

The doctor, still shaken, nodded and gestured toward the hallway. "This way, Mr. Lucian… everything is ready."

They walked down the dimly lit corridor together, the doctor leading the way as Lucian followed in silence. The sound of their footsteps echoed eerily off the sterile hospital walls, and with each step, Lucian felt himself growing lighter as if the weight of his decision was slowly being lifted from his shoulders. He wasn't scared. He wasn't nervous. He felt… ready.

As they approached the doors to the operating room, the doctor paused, turning back to Lucian one last time. "Mr. Lucian… are you sure you don't want to reconsider? There's still time. You don't have to do this."

Lucian's gaze was unwavering, his eyes filled with an unsettling calm. "I'm sure," he said quietly. "This is my choice."

With a resigned nod, the doctor pushed open the doors, and Lucian stepped inside. The room was cold and clinical, the harsh overhead lights casting a sterile glow over the equipment. The surgical team was already there, waiting in silence, their expressions tense and uncertain. They knew what was about to happen, and it wasn't something any of them were comfortable with.

The door closed softly behind him, sealing Lucian inside the room where his life would end.

"Lie down here, Mr. Lucian," one of the nurses said quietly, gesturing toward the operating table. Lucian complied without hesitation, lowering himself onto the cold metal surface. The lights above him were blinding, but he stared up at them without flinching, his mind strangely calm.

The doctor approached the table, his hands trembling as he prepared the anaesthesia. "This… this will make you sleep," he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the hum of the machines.

Lucian nodded. "Good," he whispered. "Let's get it over with."

As the doctor administered the anaesthetic, Lucian felt a strange sense of peace wash over him. His eyelids grew heavy, and the world around him began to blur, the bright lights fading