Late at night, Finnian Murdock woke up on the sofa.
He'd only closed his eyes for a short rest, but the nightmare had been enough to jolt him awake.
In the dream, he wasn't himself anymore—he was blond, blue-eyed, pale-skinned. He grew up as someone else, married, had children, then aged until he was forgotten completely.
The fear of being forgotten pressed down on him again.
Finnian stood up, poured a glass of water, and took several deep breaths before the panic in his chest finally eased.
Two lives. In his first life, bad luck had crushed him. In this second life, no one remembered his true self.
Everyone thought he was just Murdock.
That was why he'd insisted on calling himself King Murdock in the beginning, a translation of his real name—Finnian's way of leaving a mark, even if nobody else ever acknowledged it.
At least he remembered who he was.
"Still awake?" Lily Ellis appeared, holding two wine glasses.
She gave a little smile. "Want a drink?"
Normally, Finnian would have refused. He was an upright, principled man, after all.
Drink too much, and accidents happen. And with the boss—the President of the United States—sleeping just one room away, the whole thing was like playing with dynamite.
And the ending? Probably explosive.
But tonight? He needed it.
"Alright. Just a little."
He took the glass from her. One toast to his past life. One to his present.
As for the next life? Screw the next life. In this one, he'd claw his way up to invincible and immortal.
Even if the world burned, he'd live free.
Cup after cup, the line blurred. Predator and prey, hunter and hunted, they both grew tipsy.
Lily Ellis couldn't hide her curiosity. Where had this strength of his come from? Why had he hidden it until now?
Curiosity between a man and a woman… that was always the spark before the fall.
Finnian, still half caught in the shadow of his nightmare, met her gaze with fire.
The electricity between them was instant. She flushed, her body heating, heart pounding like a drum.
Things naturally escalated.
Finnian swept her into his arms, and in a blink, they were gone.
Coulson, on night watch, froze as the scene unfolded. His jaw dropped.
"This kid is insane!!!"
He rubbed his forehead, déjà vu washing over him. He'd just seen this sort of madness not long ago.
Hill's words echoed in his mind: Finnian Murdock is fickle…
Fickle? That was underselling it. He wasn't just fickle—he was lawless.
Coulson clutched his chest dramatically.
"That's it. I swear. I am never doing missions with this kid again. He's gonna kill me."
Seriously. The President was sleeping in the next room, just a wall away. And this guy dared?
"No, wait… why isn't there any sound? Is the hotel's soundproofing that good? Or…" Coulson squinted, suspicious. "Am I imagining things?"
Meanwhile, Finnian and Lily were worrying about the exact same thing.
Was the hotel soundproofed enough?
They kept it suppressed. Kept it controlled.
Suppressed. Controlled.
Ding~ ding~ ding~
The bells of Elizabeth Tower finally rang, covering everything perfectly.
By the time the sky began to brighten, the night's chaos had melted into silence.
Relations between America and England were complicated. Once father and son, now flipped—America the father, England the child.
So naturally, England put on its best face for Ellis's visit.
As one of the top security staff, Finnian stayed glued to Ellis's side.
As for Lily Ellis, the boss's daughter? She was "unwell" and skipped the day's events—though Finnian knew damn well she'd just been defeated in last night's "Wheel King secret technique tournament."
Ellis thought nothing of it. A father only saw a sick daughter.
Coulson, on the other hand, couldn't stop glancing Finnian's way with barely contained envy.
This bastard actually did it… he really ate the forbidden fruit.
Damn it. Some people just got everything.
The meeting went smoothly. Ellis had only been sworn in a few months earlier, and picking England as his first overseas stop showed just how important he considered the alliance.
Finnian, calm as ever, played his role perfectly. A puppet on the surface, but behind his eyes, every calculation ran cold and sharp.
Love was a luxury. Politics wasn't.
Why settle for fleeting feelings when you could lock down the President's only daughter as a resource?
A daughter like Lily wasn't just a woman. She was a political weapon. If Finnian didn't take that opportunity, someone else would.
And he never let other people have his spoils.
Meanwhile, outside the venue—
A tall Black man with a crew cut, a long sword strapped to his back, stood among the rows of security personnel.
He looked completely out of place beside the neatly dressed British guards.
A voice crackled through his earpiece, urgent.
"Eric, vampires have infiltrated the venue! They're gonna blow it up!"
"Fuck!" Eric hissed, sprinting forward.
Eric Brooks—half human, half vampire. Known across the underworld by a single name: Blade.
The Daywalker. The Vampire Hunter.
Right now, part-time MI5 asset.
No shame in making money.
And with Captain Britain absent, MI5 had called him in as backup security. It was supposed to be routine. Easy money.
But of course, the damn bloodsuckers had to show up again.
If the President of the United States died in London under his watch… Blade didn't even want to imagine the fallout.
"These idiots can't even secure a broom closet," he cursed. "No wonder the sun never sets—it's too busy babysitting fools."
Inside, the talks were getting heated. Exchanges turned into shouting matches.
Unsurprisingly, it was mostly the Americans pointing fingers and swearing at the Brits.
Finnian was calm, eyes sharp. Then—
Every hair on his body stood on end.
Spider-Sense. Automatic.
"Danger," he muttered.
His gaze swept the room, every detail playing out in slow motion. Two "British soldiers" who'd been standing still moments ago were now moving—too fast, too wrong.
He didn't hesitate.
Bang—!
An explosion tore through the air. Shockwaves rippled toward the delegates.
"Oh, shit!!" Blade cursed. He was too late.
But Finnian wasn't.
He lunged forward, stretching both arms wide.
In an instant, he absorbed the heat and light of the blast itself, the energy folding into him like a film reel running backward.
Half the crisis vanished instantly.
Then, with a sharp gesture, he froze the moisture in the air, throwing up ice shields that caught the brunt of the debris.
Not everyone was protected—but those who weren't would live. Bruised, battered, but alive.
He'd made sure of it.
Could he have stopped everything? Sure. But letting a little damage through made his own contribution more visible.
Always leave witnesses for the legend.
Chaos broke out. Finnian yanked Ellis back, shielding him with his body.
"Sir, we can't stay here. We need to move—now."
Ellis didn't argue. He nodded frantically.
"Yes, yes—let's go together."
Life came before politics. Dead men didn't run for re-election.
Thanks to Finnian's deliberate calculations, almost no Americans had been seriously injured. The Brits, on the other hand… not so lucky.
During the retreat, the head of MI5 was already being torn apart by the Prime Minister's rage.
"Fuck! Call Captain Britain back! Call him back immediately!"