While Elyon was in the kitchen, ready to serve the last dishes of the evening to the restaurant’s customers, he overheard Lazar’s phone vibrating on the counter. Lazar, who had just finished checking the last of the reservations for the following week, picked up casually.

— "Alen? What’s up?"

Elyon barely paid attention at first, focused on wiping down the counters. But then, Lazar’s expression shifted, his usually calm features tensing.

— "Wait, what? The hospital?!"

Elyon’s head snapped up. Without hesitation, he crossed the room in two strides and snatched the phone from Lazar’s hand.

— "What the hell happened?!"

A few tense seconds passed as he listened, his grip tightening on the device. When Alen mentioned twisting his ankle during practice, Elyon exhaled sharply through his nose, pressing two fingers against his temple as if that alone could suppress the storm brewing inside him. Then, flatly, through clenched teeth:

— "I’m going to kill him."

He didn’t wait for further explanation. Without a word, he tossed the phone back to Lazar, ripped off his apron, and headed for the door.

— "We’re going. Now."

Lazar, used to Elyon’s short temper, simply sighed and grabbed his keys. Isek muttered something under his breath but followed suit, and Folre, ever composed, adjusted his coat before stepping outside with them.

They all piled into Lazar’s car, but Elyon was the one who took the driver’s seat without asking. He didn’t give anyone time to protest before starting the engine and pulling out onto the road.

— "You know, I could have driven," Lazar pointed out, though he didn’t sound too surprised.

— "Not fast enough," Elyon shot back, his grip firm on the steering wheel.

The ride to the hospital was tense, the air thick with unspoken concerns. Isek, sitting in the back, drummed his fingers against his knee, clearly annoyed but staying quiet. Folre simply stared out the window, unreadable as ever. The only sound was the occasional irritated huff from Elyon every time they hit a red light.

By the time they arrived, Elyon barely took the time to park before stepping out, his coat swinging behind him as he strode toward the entrance. The automatic doors slid open, revealing the sterile, fluorescent-lit interior of the hospital. His sharp gaze immediately locked onto the reception desk, where Alen and the trainee were in the middle of signing the discharge papers.

For a split second, relief flickered through him—Alen was standing, which meant it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. But that relief was short-lived, quickly smothered by frustration.

He knew this was a bad idea. He had said it. He had repeated it. But no one had listened. And now, Alen was hurt.

Elyon walked up briskly, stopping just beside them, his jaw tight as he stared at the trainee.

— "I hope you're satisfied."

His voice was quieter than expected, but the sharp edge in it was unmistakable. He crossed his arms, exhaling slowly as if trying to hold himself back.

— "I knew this was going to happen."

He didn't yell. He didn’t need to. The weight of his disappointment was enough. He let his gaze linger on the trainee, as if debating whether to say more, before clicking his tongue in frustration and looking away.

— "Tss."

At that moment, Alen, still leaning against the counter, looked up with a sigh.

— "Stop, Elyon."

— "It's not his fault. I was just being stupid. I landed badly, that's all."

Lazar, who had been watching quietly, stepped forward and placed a hand on Elyon’s shoulder, grounding him slightly. Elyon exhaled sharply through his nose but didn’t shake him off.

Instead of arguing further, he turned back to Alen, his irritation shifting into something closer to reluctant concern. Without another word, he moved to his side, slipping an arm under his to help support him.

The ride home was silent. Elyon drove, jaw clenched, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. Every now and then, he shot a sharp, disapproving glare at the trainee, making it clear that this wasn't over.

Once they reached the apartment, Lazar, Isek, and Folre helped Alen inside, leaving Elyon behind. He shut the car door with a little too much force before turning sharply toward the trainee.

— "You’re the leader, aren’t you? So tell me, what the hell were you doing while he was getting hurt?