"There you are!"

Finn's head spun like a washing machine full of bad decisions. Dizzy, nauseated, he tried to recompose himself, blinking the blur from his eyes. When his vision finally steadied, he was met by a sight both familiar and chaotic—his entire party gathered around him.

Lickthorn, Chestelle, Seraphina, Isolde, Elise (wherever she'd been hiding), and right in his face—Majestria. All of them had different shades of worry painted on their expressions.

Lickthorn looked both aroused and horrified—like a pervert worried that his favorite toy had just broken.

Chestelle looked like a child about to cry beside her dying dad's hospital bed, lip quivering, eyes glassy.

What a beautiful welcoming committee, Finn thought. Straight out of hell.

Elise let out a relieved breath, smiling softly.

Seraphina looked heartbroken, her face the picture of a girlfriend who'd just been told her boyfriend didn't make it.

Isolde had the expression of a worried older sister—stern, protective, deeply concerned.

And then there was Majestria.

Unlike the others, her expression wasn't sad—it was furious. Lips tight, brows arched, eyes flaring with divine irritation.

She leaned forward, shouting right in his face. "How are you this useless—you've died for the second time now!"

A bit of her spit hit his cheek. Oddly enough, it felt… kind of nice. Which only confused him more.

"It's not my fault I died…" Finn muttered under his breath.

Isolde quickly stepped in, hands clasped together, wearing a soft smile. "Please, step back from Mister Finn. He's just returned from losing his life—it would be best to give him some space to—"

She didn't even finish before Chestelle launched herself at Finn, hugging him tightly while sobbing.

Then Lickthorn joined in—except his "hug" involved grinding on Finn's crotch like a cat marking territory.

Seraphina's face turned red instantly. "Guys! Give him space! You can't just—just jump on him like that!" she stammered, gripping her staff like it was her last strand of sanity.

"Get off him!" Majestria barked. "He shouldn't be receiving love! He should be on his knees begging for forgiveness that I didn't smite him the moment he opened his eyes!"

Chaos erupted around Finn once again—shouting, flailing, divine fury and horny nonsense all blending into one perfect storm.

Then—cough.

A distinct, loud cough cut through the noise. Everyone froze. Except Majestria, who was still glaring daggers at Finn.

Another cough followed, louder this time.

Majestria snapped her head toward the sound, eyes twitching. "WHAT?!"

It was none other than Theron, standing tall with his cane jabbed into the ground, giving Finn a stern, concerned look.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Theron spoke calmly but firmly. "It would be in everyone's best interest to back away and give him some room. He's clearly been through enough."

Beside him stood Silvara, showing absolutely no emotion. No concern, no sympathy—just the cold, unblinking stillness of an assassin maid who probably didn't know what feelings were.

Chestelle and Lickthorn reluctantly backed away from Finn—only because Theron said so.

"As if!" Majestria shot back, crossing her arms beneath her chest. "He's died twice already! This is his third time! What makes this any different?!"

Theron's stern look faltered. "…What?"

Finn blinked, confused. "Wait—third time? I've died two other times before this?"

Majestria whipped her head toward him, eyes wide. "Yes, dumbass! How do you not remember the first time you died?!"

Finn scratched the side of his head, mentally digging through the clutter of trauma, bad luck, and weird divine nonsense until—

Flashback:

Finn walking across a road. A truck slams its brakes. The driver and Finn lock eyes—both horrified. Then the trucker reverses, revs the engine, and floors it. Finn gets flattened instantly.

Both scream.

End Flashback.

"Ohhh yeah, I remember now," Finn said, snapping his fingers. "What a weird way to go—wait… nooo, the video!" His hands started trembling, eyes watering. "It was so good…" he sniffled.

Majestria tilted her head. "You remember now, dumbass?"

"Yes, yes, I do," Finn said solemnly, looking down in defeat. "It's horrible…"

Theron blinked slowly, baffled. "So he's… died three times now?"

Finn shrugged casually, as if death was just another Tuesday. "Yeah, pretty much."

"How are you still alive and sane…?" Theron asked, his earlier composure slipping into genuine concern. He looked at Finn like he was staring at a walking ghost.

Finn looked down at himself, flexing his fingers. "I don't know? I think I'm fine. Maybe physically. Mentally's a solid maybe. But I'm definitely alive," he said, glancing at Majestria. "Definitely 'cause of her."

Majestria smirked proudly, soaking in the recognition like sunlight. "Of course. You'd be nothing without me."

"Daddy is definitely fine!" Chestelle declared suddenly, voice bright and confident. "He even lets me grab his butt sometimes! He always knows what to do!"

Finn's eyes widened in horror. "No… no, I don't—don't say it like that…" he said, shaking his head slowly as his soul visibly left his body.

"Maybe he's dead," Silvara said blankly, her tone calm and eerie. "Maybe he's a hollow. Working for the Demon Lord. Sent to spy on us and infiltrate the kingdom."

Finn threw his arms up. "What—no?! I'm alive and well! I am not some undead zombie thing working for the Demon Lord trying to spy on everyone!"

"The idiot said it himself," Silvara replied stoically, nodding in quiet satisfaction. "A confession."

Finn's voice cracked. "Wha—where is this even coming from?!"

Theron coughed loudly, louder than before, finally cutting through the chaos. "Everyone, please! Even if he has somehow managed to die before, that is no reason to argue or accuse him of espionage. Dying repeatedly is still… a rather traumatizing experience."

Finn threw his hands up, exasperated. "Thank you! Finally someone gets it!"

"Though, unfortunately," Theron continued, resting both hands on his cane, "there are still plenty of things for us to handle. The people would like to see you as well, Finn. We couldn't have done it without you."

"Done what? All I did was yell orders at people. It's not that hard. What, do I get a medal for basic management skills now?"

Theron smiled faintly. "That's still something, Finn. Besides, I think you should rest for now—you've done enough. There's also… quite a mess that needs to be cleaned up."

"What mess?" Finn asked, blinking before actually beginning to look around—and immediately froze. His jaw dropped.

"DEAR GOD!"

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