After purchasing everything he needed at the convenience store, a sudden thought struck Heka. There was one more essential item he had to buy: oriental lilies.
These flowers were crucial for the candle Marchio had asked him to make. Without hesitation, he decided to stop by a flower shop he had noticed earlier on his way.
The small flower shop was tucked between two larger buildings. Its windows were adorned with colorful blooms and delicate arrangements.
Heka pushed open the door, the soft tinkling of a bell announcing his arrival. Inside, the air was fragrant with the scent of fresh flowers and earth.
He approached the counter where the florist stood with a gentle smile. "Excuse me, I'm looking for oriental lilies…"
As he spoke, a peculiar feeling washed over him. The woman's face seemed familiar, as if he had met her before. But try as he might, he couldn't place where or when.
Yet, the memory was hazy and unimportant. He was here for flowers, nothing more. Besides, he doubted he would be buying flowers again anytime soon, in the same place.
The florist's warm demeanor quickly dispelled any awkwardness. She asked briefly. "Okay, how many stalks do you need?"
Heka shrugged, his answer curt and uncertain. "Whatever."
Marchio hadn't specified the number of lilies required for the candle. And Heka had no idea how many would suffice.
The florist paused, sensing his hesitation.
She suggested. She tried to gauge his needs. "Maybe for a banquet?"
Heka nodded. He hoped she understood the vague request. "Yeah, something like that probably."
"Okay, wait here a moment." She said. And then she disappeared into the back of the shop.
Left alone, Heka wandered among the vibrant displays of flowers. Roses, tulips, daisies, and exotic orchids surrounded him, their colors vivid and inviting.
A few moments passed. He glanced at his watch, fifteen minutes had passed. His patience was thinning.
"Why does she take so long?" He muttered under his breath.
As the minutes dragged on, boredom turned to frustration. Another fifteen minutes ticked by. Half an hour in total.
The wait felt excessive, and Heka's irritation grew. "Well, five minutes more." If the florist didn't return by then, he would leave.
Suddenly, the quiet was broken by the sound of a car pulling up outside, stopping right in front of the shop. Heka turned toward the door. He thought. "Seems like there's a new customer."
To his surprise, Ansel stepped out of the vehicle. His body was heavily bandaged, wrapped as if recovering from serious injuries.
"Ansel...what's wrong with him?"
Heka's curiosity piqued. What had happened to Ansel during his time in the immortal realm? The sight of Ansel's angry expression unsettled him. Why was he so upset? And why did it feel like that anger was directed at him?
Heka's mind raced. They hadn't seen each other in a long time. And he hadn't done anything to provoke Ansel. The tension was palpable, and Heka couldn't make sense of it.
Then, a sudden realization hit him. The florist was the same woman he had met at Ansel's house before.
Unlike Heka's vague memory, she seemed to remember him clearly. Before he could react, she had already informed Ansel of Heka's presence.
That betrayal ignited a fire inside Heka. He spat, furious at the woman for siding with Ansel without even knowing him. "Damn!!! You are a sycophant!!!"
Despite knowing Ansel well, Heka felt it was unfair for the florist to inform Ansel about him.
The situation was confusing and hurtful. He didn't know the woman. And yet she had chosen to take Ansel's side immediately.
The vibe in the flower shop thickened with tension. Heka's mind was a whirlwind of emotions, anger, confusion, and a deep sense of betrayal.
Ansel stood right in front of Heka, his presence looming like a dark storm cloud. It was unmistakably clear that Ansel did not want to see him.
His eyes burned with a cold and unspoken resentment. Yet, Heka tried to keep his composure, to act as if nothing had happened.
"Ansel…" Heka called him. His voice was tentative. He hoped for some explanation or at least a civil exchange.
But before Heka could say another word, Ansel's anger erupted violently. Without warning, Ansel swung his fist hard, striking Heka across the face.
The fist of the blow sent Heka sprawling to the ground. It made the delicate flowers scattered around him turn chaotic, the messing petals and broken stems.
Just as Heka had feared, Ansel's fury was real and directed squarely at him.
Heka's cheek throbbed painfully where Ansel's fist had connected. He instinctively cupped his face, trying to endure the sharp sting of the hit.
Confusion and hurt swirled inside him. He had no idea why Ansel had suddenly attacked him with such brutality.
At that moment, the florist emerged from the back room. Her eyes widened in shock as she saw Heka on the floor, nursing his injury. "Ansel, what are you doing !!!"
But Heka felt a deep sting of betrayal. It was painfully obvious to him that she had been the one to call Ansel here for the first time. Yet now, she acted as if she sympathized with Heka's plight, pretending to be on his side.
"He deserves it." Ansel said coldly. His words cut deeper than his fist.
The harshness in his tone stunned Heka. Previously, he had always thought of Ansel as soft-hearted. As someone who wouldn't resort to violence without cause. Yet here he was, striking him without any explanation or justification.
The florist stepped forward, offering a hand to help Heka up. But Heka refused her firmly. He didn't want sympathy from a hypocrite who had orchestrated this confrontation. His pride and anger kept him rooted on the floor.
Without another word, Ansel turned and walked away. He left a heavy silence in his wake.
Throughout their acquaintance, Heka had always harbored a bad feeling about Ansel. He had tried to keep his distance. He avoided sharing the details of his struggles and experiences.
Yet Ansel had often urged him to open up, to tell him everything that had happened. But Heka found it too difficult.
Now, his instincts were confirmed. Perhaps, it was a sign that he should sever ties with Ansel altogether.
After all, someone new had entered his life, Marchio. Unlike Ansel, Marchio inspired a sense of trust in Heka. He didn't regret his decision to follow Marchio's orders without question. He believed that this new path was the right one.
Just then, the florist returned. She held a bucket filled with fresh oriental lilies. She said curtly, placing the bucket in front of him. "This is your flower."
Heka looked at the flowers, then back at her. He asked, suspicion lacing his voice. "How much?"
If it weren't for the necessity, he would never have accepted anything from this place.
"You don't need to pay. You'd better get out of here immediately." She replied sharply. Without waiting for a response, she practically shoved him toward the door.
Heka didn't argue. He gathered the bucket and walked away, the weight of the day's events pressing heavily on his mind.
As he was walking. He put out his wallet and grabbed some money. He placed it in nearby flowers.
Heka knew he would remember this day vividly, the betrayal, the violence, and the coldness of both Ansel and the florist. It was a painful lesson etched into his memory. A reminder of whom he could no longer trust.