A pair of black flip-flops slapped lazily on the white hospital tiles.
Alaric Langford strolled down the hallway with hands buried in his pockets. His tousled black hair fell into his eyes, and his coat swung open, revealing a plain white tee stretched over abs that had no business belonging to a man everyone called mad.
Once a year.
That was the leash his family doctor set for him. He insisted he leave the estate where he was locked up only once a year for a physical checkup, with the thoughts it might help him heal.
He exhaled sharply.
He hated hospitals, mostly the smell, and loathed the memories clawing at him the moment the cremation wing came into view.
Three years ago, he lost her. His world had lost its color since.
People called him mad for how he handled her death. Maybe they were right. Who but a madman burned buildings just to erase memories?
His family locked him up, stuffed him with pills, dragged in the best professionals. But he fed the pills to the butlers, threw knives at the doctors, nearly strangled one with his own tie.
At first it was emptiness. Later, it was amusement. Their fear gave him life.
And when everything they did failed, his family, still not giving up, decided he should at least produce an heir, and forced him to marry a Highland girl.
A Highland.
That very name made his blood boil. Of all the families they could chose from, they chose a Highland?!
Richard Highland was a cheap scum who could even sell his own blood if it meant climbing a step higher. His loyalty was like a chintzy two dollars chocolate bar sold by the road side on Valentines.
And they wanted that man's daughter tied to him?
Alaric had laughed when he heard. He spent months plotting how to sever the tie. But like ghost, the girl vanished. Her father claimed she was studying abroad.
Earlier, while he was going to meet his physician, a slab wheeled past him to the cremation wing, and he saw a face he recognized by accident.
She was pale, motionless, and dead. It wasn't her usual plump, round face. It was skinnier, but it was unmistakable that it was the Highland girl.
And he was here to confirm it.
Slowly, he peeked through the glass on the door.
What he never expected was the sudden wide, pale eyes staring back at him. Alive.
He flinched.
The door didn't open. Instead, a small voice whispered through the crack: "H-hi... Give me your clothes!"
Alaric blinked.
This was definitely the Highland girl, but she was alive.
He frowned.
"Please... I just need something to cover myself with!"
He took a step back. "I don't care what dimension you crawled out from, but I'm not stripping for you."
"I don't need all of it!" Poppy hissed, standing on tiptoes to peer at him. She admired his coat. "That. Just the coat! Give it to me and I'll disappear."
"No," he said flatly.
She slammed the door with her palm. "No?! I'm freezing to death!"
Alaric stared at her baffled. Who begged like this?
"Do you even have a conscience?!" She snapped.
Still, he said nothing.
When Poppy saw he wasn't bulging, she growled frustratedly. Then, she shoved the door open just enough for her slim fingers to pass through.
"Hey!" He barked as her fingers hooked his coat.
"I said I'm cold!" Poppy shot back, tugging like a wild cat.
Alaric staggered back, afraid he might actually hurt her if he pulled harder. But she was relentlessly hanging onto him like she'd die without it. Her head even popped from behind the door to get a better look at what she was pulling.
Not knowing what to do, he slammed the emergency button close to the door.
But that little distraction was all Poppy needed. She pulled harder.
And then—rip!
The coat slipped free. She tumbled back into the room, hugging it to her chest like a trophy.
Alaric stood in shock, staring at the door in disbelief.
That was when four nurses came sprinting with emergency kits.
"Sir, you're not supposed to be here!" One gasped. "Are you hurt?"
Alaric slowly pointed to the door.
The nurses blinked, then pushed inside.
They froze.
Poppy sat there with wide eyes, covered in his coat. Her tangled, messy hair fell on her face, and her legs were bare.
One of the nurses stumbled back. Her face grew pale like ash, and her voice shook vehemently. "You—! That's impossible. I-I certified you myself. You're supposed to be dead!"
Alaric's eyes narrowed, but hurried footsteps that approached them distracted him.
"Young master!" Guards in black stormed around the corner, panting slightly as the group ran toward him.
Alaric cursed under his breath. He had to get back into character again.
He gave Poppy one last piercing glance, before he started laughing loudly and ran to the opposite direction.
But it was already too late. The guards caught up to him, holding both his arm to stop him from inflicting any injury on them.
"Let go! Do you want to die?!"
They dragged him down the hallway, his wild laughter echoing through till they vanished.
Both the nurses and Poppy stared at them confused, wondering what just happened.
But Pain suddenly pounded through Poppy's skull. As her body grew weak and her vision spun, she clutched the coat tighter.
And then darkness consumed her.