Axel groaned softly as the golden sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling glass panels, casting warm rays across the plush sheets tangled around him. He cracked open one eye, then the other, reluctantly registering the time on the digital clock by the nightstand.
9:00 AM.
He blinked.
Nine?
Had he really slept that long?
A quiet chuckle escaped his lips, a breathy sound that felt strange in the stillness of the morning. Things were definitely changing. In his previous life—when he was still Z, the deadly, ever-alert assassin—waking up this late was unthinkable. Back then, sleep was a luxury, and true rest was an illusion. He was always on edge, constantly ready for an attack, his senses wired to detect even the tiniest threat. Even a shift in wind or the creak of a floorboard could jolt him into consciousness.
But now?
He lay undisturbed until the sun itself dragged him into wakefulness. Maybe it was because no one knew he had reincarnated. Maybe it was the sheer exhaustion of yesterday. Or maybe, just maybe, he was finally allowing himself to relax—truly, fully, without the weight of paranoia pressing down on his shoulders.
It was a strange feeling. Disarming, even. But not unwelcome.
Dragging himself out of bed, Axel padded into the bathroom for a quick shower. The hot water helped shake off the lingering grogginess, and by the time he walked into his walk-in closet, towel slung low on his hips, he felt almost like a functioning human being again.
Almost.
He stared at the contents of the closet and grimaced.
Sequins. Glitter jeans. Ridiculously bright colors of crop tops. Designer pieces that looked more like display items than wearable clothes. " How could I forget about my clothes problem, this is definitely not a wardrobe for someone who used to dress in all black with hidden weapons and steel-toed boots like me".
A headache bloomed behind his eyes.
Mental note: Buy clothes. Real clothes. Tonight. Online.
Thirty frustrating minutes later, he managed to find something passable—simple dark jeans and a muted oversized sweater that thankfully didn't sparkle or scream for attention. He stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the instrument room. The display told him he had five minutes before their scheduled meeting.
Perfect.
The elevator doors opened, and the rich notes of guitar strings and soft laughter drifted out. He stepped into the room, pushing open the wide doors.
Jayvaughn, Noah, and James were already there, lounging around the central workspace, surrounded by instruments, mic stands, and lyric sheets.
"Good morning," Axel greeted casually, his voice still rough with sleep.
"Morning," came the chorus of replies.
Jayvaughn's gaze lingered on him a moment longer than the others, eyes scanning his face. Only after confirming Axel looked healthy—no pale cheeks like last night—did he glance away, nodding in silent approval.
"Let's make this quick," Jayvaughn said, standing and stretching. "I've got to stop by the company later."
Noah handed Axel a sheet of lyrics. "Jayvaughn and James have seen it already. You're the last one. Let me know what you think."
Axel took the paper, scanning the lines with a neutral expression. But as he read, he noticed the expectant gleam in Noah's eyes—not one of curiosity, but of assumption. It was the look of someone who expected agreement. No pushback. No real feedback.
Axel wasn't offended. Not really. After all, the original Axel—the boy whose life he now inhabited—never offered input. He nodded along with everything, quietly tagging behind the others like an obedient puppy. Maybe Noah wasn't even aware he was treating Axel like someone without a voice.
But that wouldn't fly anymore.
Because Axel wasn't that boy.
He was Z.
A man trained in perfection, forged in fire and war. And even if he had landed in a boyband of all things, he wasn't going to throw that away just to fit into someone else's mold.
"These lyrics are catchy," Axel said, lowering the sheet. "But I want to change a few of the lines assigned to me."
There was a beat of stunned silence.
Noah blinked, then frowned. "Why? I think they're perfect."
Axel met his gaze evenly. "I know you tailored these lyrics to fit everyone's personality. But there's no way I'm singing this." He tapped the offending line with a finger. "'We took a year to nap, now we're back to melt your face, with a cute and mighty slap'? That's not happening."
Noah stared at him. "You think the lyrics I wrote for you are... corny?"
"They're not bad. Just not for me." Axel didn't flinch. "I get that fans like when Axel's 'cute.' But that's not me. Not anymore."
Noah's jaw clenched. He looked genuinely offended, and Axel could see the fire light in his eyes. He knew Noah had poured effort into writing these lyrics, probably envisioning how each line would land with their audience. And yeah, the fans adored the cutesy, harmless version of Axel. Even if he said something slightly inappropriate, they'd just laugh it off and call it 'adorable.'
But that wasn't who Axel was now.
"I don't want to ruin the vibe," Axel continued, voice calm but firm. "I'll keep the structure. Just tweak the tone. I want something that fits better with who I am."
Across the room, Jayvaughn's eyes hadn't left him. There was a glint of curiosity in his gaze now, something like intrigue. Axel could feel it.
He's watching me.
Because they all knew Axel never had opinions. And now here he was—challenging lyrics, standing his ground.
Interesting, isn't it?
James looked between Noah and Axel, clearly sensing a storm brewing. He shifted uncomfortably, subtly inching his chair back. Jayvaughn, ever the leader, finally stepped in.
"I'm already running late," he said, cutting through the tension like a knife. "And I don't have time for a shouting match between you two."
Noah and Axel both turned toward him.
"What do you suggest we do?" Noah asked, brows still furrowed.
"Let Axel make the changes he wants," Jayvaughn said simply. "We'll all meet back tonight and go over the final version together. If anything still doesn't sit right, you two can talk it out then—without fighting."
It was a compromise. A fair one. And more importantly, one that saved time.
Axel glanced at Noah, who still looked frustrated, but he didn't argue. Instead, he gave a curt nod and turned away, arms crossed.
Silently, Axel agreed too.
________________________
"CEO, CEO," Jayvaughn's personal assistant called out, his voice edged with urgency, but Jayvaughn didn't respond. He sat behind his large office desk, unmoving, his sharp gaze lost somewhere past the skyline outside the window.
He was thinking about Axel again.
Since Axel had woken up from the coma, nothing about him made sense anymore. Jayvaughn had spent the last few days trying to piece together what had changed, but nothing added up. He had even considered hiring a psychologist—was it even possible for someone's personality to shift this drastically after a coma? And more importantly, could someone's feelings for another person just vanish into thin air?
The Axel he used to know had been an open book. It was easy to tell what he was thinking just by glancing at his face. Now, it felt like Axel had sealed himself behind a glass wall. His expressions were unreadable, his behavior unpredictable.
Jayvaughn found himself... intrigued.
He didn't want to admit it, but the new Axel was fascinating. Almost dangerously so. The aloofness, the distance—it drew Jayvaughn in more than he cared to acknowledge. There was something magnetic about the way Axel didn't even seem to want to be in the same room as him anymore. That sense of detachment felt foreign and strange.
Then his mind drifted back to the night before, and he smirked at the memory. He'd been teasing Axel, playfully massaging his waist, and watching the flustered reaction when Axel jumped away from his lap like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
Jayvaughn chuckled, low and genuine.
Across from him, the personal assistant stiffened like he had just seen a ghost.
To the staff at the company, Jayvaughn Draxler was a stone wall—cold, unreadable, and utterly professional. When he had inherited the company at a young age, people doubted him, laughed behind his back, assumed he was just a spoiled idol who'd buckle under the pressure. But he'd proven them all wrong. With sharp decision-making and relentless determination, he had turned the company into a force to be reckoned with.
No one had ever seen him smile. Until now.
"CEO," the assistant said again, this time more cautiously. "The CEO of Sol Company is already in the meeting room."
Jayvaughn blinked out of his thoughts, the smirk still faintly on his lips. He nodded and rose from his seat, straightening his blazer with a crisp tug. "Let's go."
His assistant followed him in stunned silence, still not over the fact that his cold-blooded boss had just laughed.
___________________
At the apartment, Axel stretched his arms above his head and yawned. He had just finished tweaking the lyrics to the song, and the final version now sat freshly printed on his desk—four neat copies ready to hand out at later that evening.
He leaned back and picked up his phone, opening a shopping app and scrolling through various fashion collections. He wrinkled his nose at the memory of his current wardrobe—nothing but flashy, uncomfortable pieces the old Axel had accumulated. Once his new clothes arrived, he planned to toss everything out.
Comfort was the new priority.
With his cardio session for the day already complete—he was taking recovery seriously after all—and no other pressing tasks until evening, he decided to kill time by browsing entertainment news. He tapped into the search bar and typed his name: Axel.
The first headline that popped up made him scoff.
"Axel's Mother Seen Taking Her Adopted Daughter to the Airport Instead of Visiting Son Who Just Woke From Coma."
Axel's lips curled into a sneer.
Everything about that headline screamed Dessie. The girl had always craved attention, and now she was making it public that she was the favored child. The article painted Axel in the worst possible light, implying that if his own mother chose not to visit him after a coma, he must have been a terrible son.
He read through the comments, some supportive, others cruel and judgmental.
Do I care? he thought. No.
The old Axel might have spiraled, broken down, or felt crushed. But not this Axel. Not Z.
What did get under his skin, though, was Dessie's audacity. She had gone out of her way to provoke him, and he hadn't even made a move against her yet.
Fine, he thought, setting his phone down with a calm, cold expression.
He'd wait until his computers were delivered tomorrow. Once they were assembled, he'd have everything he needed to begin. And Dessie—foolish, scheming Dessie—would regret ever stepping into his lane.
He closed his eyes, stretching his body across the couch. For the first time in years, he could nap whenever he wanted. That freedom alone was worth more than anything.
As his mind drifted off, a small smile lingered on his lips. In this new life, he was finally in control. And that, to him, was everything.
__________________
Back at the office, Jayvaughn sat through the meeting, his body present but his thoughts still partially elsewhere.
He should have been focused on the Sol Company presentation, but instead, his mind kept wandering back to Axel. The way he carried himself now—confident, the sharp tongue —was such a contrast to the Axel he used to know.
And yet, strangely... Jayvaughn didn't hate it.
He found himself wanting to peel back those new layers, to see if the old Axel still lived underneath them somewhere—or if this version was someone entirely new. He didn't even realize he was smiling faintly again until the CEO of Sol paused mid-pitch and looked at him with surprise.
"Ah... is something funny, Mr. Draxler?" the man asked politely.
Jayvaughn cleared his throat and straightened his expression. "No. Continue."
But inwardly, he was already planning how he'd run into Axel later that evening. Just to talk. Just to see him and maybe to tease him again, just to watch him squirm.