"You saved my life… and helped Rachel escape all that suffering—"
"Eat your food."
Lucien cut him off without even looking up.
Jamie really was dependable in every sense—loyal, bold, and surprisingly attentive—but once he started thanking someone, he became impossible to stop. No matter how much money he paid, he always felt it wasn't enough, and every conversation somehow circled back to gratitude. After hearing it a few times, Lucien had already learned the trick: interrupt early, or sit through the entire speech.
Jamie didn't seem embarrassed at all. He simply paused, took a bite, and continued eating as if nothing had happened.
Lucien seized the moment and shifted the topic. "What's your relationship with Rachel?"
That did the job.
Jamie swallowed before answering, his tone turning calmer. "She was Lisa's and my childhood friend."
Memories seemed to flicker behind his eyes as he spoke. "Back then, the three of us were inseparable. But later, because of the curse, Lisa and I had to leave town. Rachel's family wasn't involved in what happened to Mary Shaw, so she wasn't targeted… but staying in a place where people kept dying wasn't exactly an option either."
He exhaled quietly. "After she left, Lisa's condition only got worse. Add my father's situation on top of that, and I had no choice but to leave as well. I just didn't expect Rachel to end up in the film industry."
Then he looked at Lucien, expression sharpening slightly.
"Yesterday, while you were in the dream, Rachel and I talked about something."
Lucien straightened just a little, interest finally showing.
"We think your antique shop needs more exposure," Jamie continued. "But not the shop itself—you."
"Me?" Lucien raised a brow.
"People remember names more easily than businesses," Jamie said, taking a sip of water. "Rachel has connections as an agent, and I recently sponsored an appraisal-related event. So we thought… why not bring you into appraisal shows? Or even organize offline appraisal events."
Lucien considered it briefly and found no fault in the idea.
With connections and funding already handled, everything else would depend on his own ability—and that, he didn't lack. Having grown up around antiques, guided by his grandfather, his eye for authenticity had long been sharpened. Without that, he wouldn't have dared open a shop in the first place.
"Rachel will contact you once she arranges everything," Jamie added.
Lucien nodded. "Alright. Thanks for the effort."
He understood that getting into those programs wasn't simple. Behind the scenes, it would require negotiation, coordination, and careful handling—none of which were easy tasks.
"Oh, right." Jamie suddenly slapped his forehead. "Rachel called earlier. Anne Hathaway wants to invite you to dinner to talk about payment."
"Dinner?" Lucien repeated.
"Yeah… dinner. Apparently, she's still asleep."
Lucien let out a faint chuckle.
After what she had been through, one night of rest was nowhere near enough to recover.
"How are you planning to spend the day?" Jamie asked. "Still locking yourself in your room reading like before?"
"No," Lucien said, shaking his head. "This time, I'm actually going to relax."
For a long time now, his life had been nothing but cultivation, exorcisms, and study. Either he was hunting something, preparing to hunt something, or refining his abilities. Even for him, that pace wasn't sustainable forever.
"Then let's grab a drink," Jamie suggested casually.
"At this hour?" Lucien glanced at him.
"Drinking doesn't need a schedule," Jamie grinned. "Come on. Just one."
…
They stepped out together and wandered down the street, eventually settling on a small, quiet bar tucked between two buildings.
The moment he stepped inside, Lucien felt a strange sense of familiarity. The dim lighting, the low hum of conversations, the occasional clink of glasses—it reminded him of a scene he couldn't quite place, something distant yet oddly vivid.
"I thought you'd pick somewhere louder," he remarked.
"That kind of place is for chasing women," Jamie replied without hesitation. "This is where you actually drink."
He waved to the bartender. "Screwdriver for me, and for him—"
"A dry martini," Lucien said calmly.
The bartender paused for half a second, giving him a quick, measuring glance before starting the mix.
Jamie blinked. "Didn't expect that."
"I've been around long enough," Lucien replied. "Social drinking isn't exactly avoidable."
That wasn't the full truth, of course. The real reason was simpler—he didn't trust Jamie to choose something decent. Left to him, Lucien might've ended up with something overly sweet and unbearable.
The bartender's movements grew more precise, almost deliberate.
Lucien noticed.
A dry martini wasn't just a drink—it was a test. Its simplicity left no room for mistakes, and only someone confident in their skill would take it seriously.
Realizing that, Lucien quietly turned his attention away, uninterested in encouraging unnecessary theatrics.
Instead, he looked toward the television mounted in the corner.
"A disturbance occurred earlier today at an airport…"
The news anchor spoke as footage rolled.
"A female passenger began screaming before takeoff, insisting the plane would crash. The situation caused panic among passengers, ultimately delaying the flight…"
"She was later escorted off by authorities. Experts suggest possible psychological instability…"
Lucien's gaze sharpened slightly.
A faint, unfamiliar sensation stirred within him.
A premonition.
Almost instinctively, his thoughts drifted to one of his newly acquired abilities.
Was this connected to him somehow?
Before he could examine the feeling further, the next report began.
"A death has been reported on a film set…"
"The deceased, Elizabeth, aged sixty-seven, was a psychologist hired for consultation…"
"The suspect is currently under investigation, with a well-known director considered a key person of interest…"
The footage shifted to the arrest.
A bearded man struggled violently as officers dragged him toward a police vehicle, his face distorted with fear.
"It wasn't me! It wasn't me!" he shouted.
"It was Freddy! He came into our dreams! He tortured us—made us wish we were dead! Listen to me! Believe me!"
His voice turned frantic, almost unhinged.
"No… no, that's not right! You're all fake too! This is still a dream! I'm still dreaming! Let me go!"
With a sudden burst of strength, he broke free and tried to run.
But he didn't get far.
A stun gun fired. His body convulsed violently before collapsing onto the pavement.
The screen froze on the chaotic scene.
Lucien watched in silence, the faint unease in his chest deepening.
For him, this wasn't over.
Not yet.