Axel wandered through the polished halls of the Draxler's Entertainment building, his pace unhurried, hands tucked into his pockets.
The familiar scent of coffee and printer ink filled the air, and the soft echo of heels clicking on the floor trailed behind distant employees and the company artist shuffling around. Yet his mind wasn't focused on his surroundings—it was somewhere else entirely.
Jayvaughn.
Over the past month, Axel had started seeing Jayvaughn in a new light. At first, it had been annoyance, then confusion, but now... he wasn't sure. Jayvaughn cared. That much was obvious. From small gestures like checking in on him when he skipped meals, to the quiet moments where Jayvaughn would sit beside him in silence just to keep him company—it was all new to Axel.
No one had ever taken care of him before.
Back when he was still Z, the only person he could call a friend was K. And even then, he had been the one doing the protecting, the guiding. He had given, never received. That's why Jayvaughn's kindness... felt foreign. Strange.
Warm.
Maybe this was what true friendship feltlike. Axel thought.
If Jayvaughn knew what was running through his head at that moment, he'd probably smack him. Hard. And not just anywhere—right on the buttocks, with enough force to make Axel hiss. Because Jayvaughn wouldn't want to be seen as just a friend. The mere idea would make him grit his teeth and say something like, "What gave you the damn impression that I want to be your friend, Axel?"
Axel continue thinking.What would Jayvaughn think if he found out the truth?
That Axel wasn't even the original Axel.
Just an impostor, a parasite occupying someone else's body.
Would Jayvaughn cut him off completely? Treat him like a stranger? Or worse... see him as a monster?
Axel stopped in front of a wide glass panel, the cityscape sprawled beneath him. Cars flowed through streets like blood through veins, life pulsing in an orderly chaos below.
"Well," he muttered to himself, his reflection ghosted on the glass, "the only thing I can do now is keep my secret tighter. If Jayvaughn finds out anything..."
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
"We'll cross that bridge when we get there. No need to think too much about it now."
Shaking his head, he turned away from the glass and began heading toward the exit. But just as his hand brushed the door handle, a voice called from behind him.
"Axel!"
He froze.
He turned slowly, and there she was.
Dessie.
Flanked by a group of unfamiliar women, she strutted towards him with that same sugary sweet smile she always wore when she is scheming something. Axel blinked, recognizing none of the girls around her. That meant the original Axel didn't know them either.
"Well, look who's here," he thought. He hadn't even spared her a thought lately, and yet here she was, making herself known.
He stood, waiting, as Dessie finally reached him. Her eyes sparkled with that forced warmth that made his stomach twist.
"Big brother," she chirped, her voice nauseatingly sweet.
The moment she spoke, something inside him snarled.
Hatred.
Sharp. Unyielding.
It wasn't his emotion—not entirely. It belonged to the remnants of the original Axel. Axel hadn't felt that remnant in weeks. He had begun to think it was gone.
But no, it was still there.
"Well, looks like you're still here," he thought.
He kept his tone level, though a chill laced his voice. "Do you need something?"
It wasn't meant to come out cold. But with that remnant flaring up inside him, it couldn't be helped.
Before Dessie could respond, one of the girls at her side pointed an accusing finger at him.
"What's with your attitude? Dessie is just greeting you, and you're acting like a jerk! You've been bullying her for years!"
Axel tilted his head and stared at the girl.
He chuckled.
It was a soft, humorless sound that sent a chill through the hallway.
"Look at me, all mellowed out," he thought. "The last person who pointed a finger at me lost their hand. And here she is, still whole. How generous of me."
The girl must have seen something in his eyes, because she went pale and darted behind Dessie.
Dessie frowned, her expression twisting with doubt. She feels like something had changed with axel, but she could not pinpoint what that thing is.
"Brother," she said again, her voice now laced with delicate sorrow. "I was worried about you. You just woke up from a coma."
Axel snorted. "Yeah, I can tell how worried you were. So worried you didn't even visit."
Dessie's face fell further. Her ability to twist her expression into heartbreak was almost admirable.
"I wanted to visit," she said. "But Mum said I shouldn't. She said if you didn't even care enough to visit your parents after waking up, then we shouldn't bother visiting you."
Axel raised a brow. "Really? Mother said that?"
Dessie nodded.
He smiled. Sweetly. Dangerously.
"Then you won't mind repeating what you just said, right? I'd like to record it and ask Mother later why she expects her comatose son who just woke up to visit her."
Dessie's face froze, as if she had swallowed a fly.
He almost laughed.
He knew their mother. Despite her favoritism, despite her disappointment in the original Axel, she still loved her son. She would never say something like that.
Dessie had been playing this game for a long time—sowing discord between mother and son. But if she thought this Axel would react the same way as the original axel, she was sorely mistaken.
Axel leaned in slightly. "What are you waiting for? Repeat it. I'll show it to her when I visit later."
Dessie blurted, "You're planning to visit?"
Axel shrugged. "You can walk in and out of their home, but when I say I want to visit, you scream like you've seen a ghost. Are you saying you don't want me to visit my own parents?"
He turned to the other girls, his gaze sweeping over them.
"You all better be careful around her. There's a good chance she'll turn your parents or your friends against you, too."
The jab landed. He could see it in their faces.
Mission accomplished.
Without waiting for Dessie to respond, Axel turned and walked away. He didn't look back.
Once outside, he strolled down the busy street, inhaling the crisp air.
"Looks like Dessie is too free these days," he muttered.
A grin curled on his lips.
"Well, I'm a generous man. I'll help her find something to get busy with."
To a passerby, his tone might've sounded kind.
Helpful.
But the reality was far from it.
What he meant was: he was going to dig into her secrets.
And post them online.
Let the world see the real Dessie.
And then, she would be busy indeed—scrambling to wipe her dirt off the internet.