This Damned Fated Affinity

The next day.

Lake woke up in his chair, yawned, and then, as if remembering something, his gaze drifted to Skye, who was lying on a hospital bed in front of him, once again in a patient’s gown.

This was definitely not fate.

Lake dared to say that. What kind of fate involved meeting someone for the first time and ending up in a hospital?

The first time, Skye had bumped into Lake, and as a result, she had been hospitalized for acute appendicitis.

This time?

Heh.

Lake thought about the CT scan the doctor had brought last night, along with a whole string of professional medical terms, and twitched the corner of his mouth.

Two consecutive meetings.

The same outcome: Skye hospitalized, Lake bankrupt.

This was a cursed fate.

Lake couldn’t help but cover his forehead. Fortunately, he could still put it on the tab at New Amsterdam Hospital, so he wouldn’t be completely wiped out, not that his wallet was particularly full to begin with.

At that moment, Skye on the hospital bed also slowly woke up.

"You’re awake?"

"…"

Skye turned her head to look at Lake, who was sitting with his legs propped up on a chair. She blinked, then her eyes widened, and she tensed up on the bed, adopting a defensive posture. "Don’t come any closer, you freak."

Lake: "…"

Freak?

Me?

How am I a freak?

Lake’s face darkened. He had found the thirteen-year-old little loli, Skye, quite appealing before, but after that comment, his favorability dropped to zero.

However…

Lake was willing to give Skye another chance. "Me? A freak? Give me a reason."

Skye said, "You almost killed me."

Lake tilted his head. "Did I?"

Skye opened her mouth, about to nod, when the image of the bullet that had suddenly dipped and then curved flashed in her mind.

The next second.

Skye looked up at Lake. "How did you make the bullet curve?"

Lake frowned. "You saw that?"

Skye nodded.

Lake said "oh," and got up. "That’s right. You’re sick."

"…You’re the sick one."

"I’m not, but you are. I have proof from the hospital."

"What?"

Seeing Skye looking utterly bewildered, Lake sighed and shook his head. "Get ready. We’re operating on you soon."

Skye was stunned. "Operating on what?"

"Brain surgery."

"…"

Skye’s eyes widened, and she once again looked at Lake with the gaze of someone looking at a freak.

Lake shrugged. "I didn’t say that. The doctor did. Do you know you have epilepsy?"

Skye’s face darkened. "You’re the one with epilepsy. I’m perfectly fine."

"Your brain CT scan says otherwise."

"Huh?"

Lake explained, "To put it simply, you ate undercooked pork, and then you got worms in your brain. So, the doctor needs to open up your head and take out those little worms."

Skye: "…"

Last time they met, it was an appendectomy.

This time, not only had the method of meeting escalated, but the level of surgery had also escalated, and consequently, the medical fees had also increased.

Without a doubt.

This was a cursed fate, a truly cursed fate.

Skye’s mouth hung open, and she couldn’t snap back to reality for a long time. When she finally did, she shook her head. "Impossible. I don’t believe it. I don’t have that."

Lake looked at Skye, saying nothing.

An hour later.

The specialist doctor Lake had called for left the ward.

Skye, sitting on the hospital bed, replayed the doctor’s words in her mind, lost in thought for a while.

After a moment.

Skye snapped back to reality, her gaze drifting towards Lake with a hint of melancholy. "It’s all your fault."

Lake looked at Skye with suspicion, a question mark appearing above his head.

My fault?

What does this have to do with me? The bug is in your head, not mine, and I didn’t put it there.

Skye looked at Lake with a touch of resentment. "Every time I see you, I end up in the hospital. Last time it was appendicitis, and now I need brain surgery. I was perfectly fine before I met you, eating everything in sight."

Lake coughed.

Well, well.

I haven’t even said anything about you, and you’re already playing the victim.

Only the truly wicked and women are difficult to deal with.

Lake got up, preparing to leave.

The ward door was pushed open.

George, Beckett, and Cassel walked in.

Lake frowned. "What are you guys doing here?"

George said, "We heard you didn’t go home last night. We just finished up at the precinct, and we were all together, so we decided to come check on you. How are you, are you okay?"

Lake pointed at Skye on the bed. "I’m fine. She’s the one who needs brain surgery."

Skye’s small eyebrows twitched. "Hey, hey, what do you mean ‘she’s the one’? Can you speak properly?"

Lake turned to look at Skye, thinking seriously for a moment. "One?"

Skye took a deep breath. "You…"

You’re the ‘one’.

Your whole family is ‘one’.

Seeing Skye flustered, Lake chuckled and said to George, "Come on, let’s go for a smoke."

Beckett and Cassel didn’t come.

Having a bug in your head wasn’t a minor issue; it required surgery. If he came back from smoking and Skye was gone, who knew if he’d see her as a ghost next time.

Hmm.

Wait a minute.

Speaking of which…

In a ghostly state, one probably wouldn’t be hospitalized, right?

Lake mused this to himself, stroking his chin as he smoked.

While smoking, George told Lake about the events that transpired last night.

Simply put.

Burrwell Allen died from excessive blood loss.

Lake looked at George.

George said, "He had a gun, and he was a serial killer. We told him to drop the gun, but he refused. After a standoff, he died from excessive blood loss."

Lake nodded.

Watching his own blood flow out of his body, bit by bit, until he died from blood loss?

While that method of death was practically a mercy, the psychological trauma he must have endured while waiting for death to claim him would have been immense.

Still.

As long as the aftermath was cleaned up, it was fine.

Besides.

Even if it wasn’t cleaned up, it wouldn’t matter. Lake would handle the aftermath. If anyone dared to cause trouble, Lake had the ability to deal with them. In some ways, Lake felt he had a lot in common with Washington.

They both shared the idea that perhaps they couldn’t solve the problem, but they could solve the person who raised the problem.

Lake smiled.

Just then.

Cassel pushed the door open and walked in. "Hey, the surgery is about to start."

Lake nodded, extinguished the cigarette butt, put it in his pocket, and left the stairwell with George.

David and his wife Martha also came over.

When the doctor, preparing to move Skye for surgery, entered the room, he was startled by the sight of so many people with guns. He immediately handed over the surgical consent form, saying, "Who is the patient’s family? Please sign."

George and Cassel immediately turned their gazes to Lake.

Lake’s mouth twitched.

Skye, on the bed, looked at the doctor. "I don’t have any family. Can I sign myself?"

The doctor replied, "No. What about your adoptive parents, or the child welfare agency responsible for you?"

Seeing that the doctor seemed about to notify the child welfare agency, Skye got out of bed. "I don’t need surgery."

Beckett, by Skye’s bedside, immediately held her down. "If you don’t have this surgery, you’ll die."

Skye struggled against Beckett. "I’d rather die outside."

Lake looked at Martha, signaling her to help.

Soon.

Lake signed his name on his own surgical consent form.

The doctor took back the consent form, glanced at Martha, and then looked at Lake. "It would be best to complete the procedures within a month. Otherwise, if it’s discovered, I’ll be in a lot of trouble."

Lake nodded. "Understood."

After all, perhaps, maybe, in the end, Skye was indeed hospitalized because of Lake, and she had to undergo surgery every time. It might be a coincidence, but Lake was soft-hearted.

Completing the paperwork was a simple matter.

He could have the Department of Homeland Security create a minor case later, making Skye a key witness, then write a statement, and have it signed and stamped to be filed with the hospital.

A week later.

When Lake pushed open the door and entered the ward, he saw Skye leaning against the hospital bed, holding a mirror, pouting, and looking at her bandaged head, on the verge of tears.

He closed the door.

"Stop looking."

Lake walked over to the adjacent bed and sat down, chuckling. When Skye looked at him, he shook his head. "The back of your head was shaved. It’s very ugly, and it reflects light."

Skye’s teeth chattered. Although she hadn’t known the seriousness of the illness before, the doctors had explained it to her these past few days, and they had even shown her pictures of the extracted worms.

They were disgusting.

Skye lowered her head. "I’ll pay you back."

Her plan to earn money until she was sixteen to buy a small car to live in was ruined.

Skye had also asked the doctor how much the surgery would cost without insurance.

The doctor had told her.

But after hearing the first two numbers, Skye chose to block it out. In short, Skye felt that her future life would likely be spent paying off debt.

Lake smiled. "Okay, work hard, keep it up."

Although it was public funds.

But…

If Skye was willing to pay it back, Lake had no objections. After all, the money she paid back could be used for a lottery draw.

Lake looked at Skye, who was sitting cross-legged on the hospital bed. "How are you feeling today?"

Skye said, "I still have a few more days of IV drips, and then they’ll observe me for a few days. If there are no problems, I can be discharged and live normally."

Lake nodded.

Skye was silent for a moment and then looked at Lake. "Um… can you do me a favor?"

Lake said, "Of course."

Skye handed Lake a note she had written yesterday. "Can you help me get my things? I’m afraid if I’m not here for so long, my things will get lost."

Lake took the note and looked at the address, nodding. "Recover well. Martha will bring your special meal later."

Skye looked at Lake as he got up. "Thank you."

Lake waved his hand.

It was a small favor, and Lake was happy to build good karma with this future great demon king who could break the Earth.

An hour later.

George drove Lake to the address on the note.

But…

After Lake got out of the car, he looked up at the five-story gray and white building in front of him, which looked like a haunted house. He opened his mouth and said to George, "Are you sure we’re in the right place?"

George locked the car. "If your address is correct, then it’s here."

Lake: "…"