I knew perfectly well that open flames were forbidden at a gas-leak scene, yet as a firefighter, I still backed my girlfriend's childhood friend when he insisted on lighting a cigarette "to calm his nerves."

In my previous life, a sudden gas leak erupted during a gathering. Her childhood friend insisted on smoking to steady himself. I slapped the lighter out of his hand and yelled at him for trying to get us all killed.

Humiliated, he ignored everyone's attempts to stop him and stormed outside—only to be crushed by an advertising board blown loose by the explosion's shockwave.

Later, when I saved a child who had fallen from a building and was left hanging in midair myself, my girlfriend—my second-in-command—maliciously cut my safety rope.

She stared at my corpse and said, "If you hadn't humiliated George in front of everyone, he wouldn't have died."

When I opened my eyes again, I was back in that room thick with the stench of leaking gas.

"Finn, what are you spacing out for?"

Lisa Parker's irritated voice dragged me out of those blood-soaked memories.

I… had been reborn.

I looked at her, then at George Penn beside her, cursing under his breath as he toyed with his lighter.

Clenching my fists, I forced myself to stay calm through the pain.

I couldn't repeat the mistakes of my previous life.

If I rushed in and tried to stop George the way I did back then, he would only explode in anger and everything would unfold the same way again.

But this time, if he lit that lighter, we would all die here.

I couldn't die—and my teammates behind me were even more innocent.

Drawing in a steadying breath, I put on an urgent expression and barked sharply in George's direction.

"George! What do you think you're doing? Put the lighter down! This is a gas-leak site!"

George flinched hard, nearly dropping the lighter.

But before he could respond, Lisa instantly blew up.

She stepped in front of him, glaring up at me like a furious cat bristling its fur.

"Finn, what are you yelling for? Look at how you frightened him! He's just nervous and wants a cigarette. Do you have to be so aggressive?"

She spoke with such righteous indignation, as if I were the one making trouble for no reason.

What a touching little scene—beauty rushing to protect the fool.

Too bad I wasn't the clueless idiot I had been in my last life.

"Lisa! Get a grip! This isn't a joke!"

I stared at her shielding that imbecile and let out a cold laugh inside, though on my face I feigned anxiety and helpless frustration.

"Lisa, listen to me! The instruments already detected that the gas concentration is at explosive levels! Forget open flames—one static spark could blow all of us to pieces!"

While pleading with her, I shifted my body to block their line of sight and gently pressed the button on the recorder in my chest pocket.

Seeing how fiercely Lisa defended him, George regained his courage in an instant.

Peeking out from behind her, he smirked with shameless bravado. "Captain, aren't you overreacting a little? You're just fear-mongering. It's only a cigarette. What's the big deal?

"And besides, Lisa said it's fine. You're a grown man—can't you stop being so petty?"

In my previous life, his words would've provoked me. Now, they just seemed laughable.

Realizing that talking wouldn't work, I subtly signaled the team behind me with a covert tactical gesture.

—Prepare to withdraw. Find cover. Stay alert.

Veteran firefighter Josh Kieran, standing right behind me, stiffened slightly, but his expression didn't change. He immediately understood.

He shifted just enough to shield Lisa and George's view from the others, gave me a discreet nod, then stepped back half a pace and tapped the two firefighters beside him.

The three of them moved almost simultaneously, quietly edging toward the kitchen doorway, ready to retreat at a second's notice.

Everything was in place.

I turned my gaze back to Lisa and let a hint of desperation soften my voice. "Lisa, I'm begging you—talk some sense into him! This concerns every life in this room. You're a firefighter too. You should understand."

But Lisa didn't appreciate it at all.

If anything, she seemed to relish how my pleading made her look in front of George.

She turned to comfort him, then spoke the one sentence that destroyed our final thread of hope.

"George, don't be scared. I'm here. Go ahead and light it—nothing will happen."

Watching the two of them stand there, perfectly aligned and perfectly ignorant, I gathered every ounce of strength and shouted to my team, "Down!"

It was a command given to my comrades who trusted me with their lives.

And at the exact moment the word left my mouth, George pressed the lighter in his hand.

Boom!

A deafening blast swallowed every sound in the world. My eardrums felt as if a red-hot iron rod had been driven straight through them, sending a skull-splitting buzz reverberating through my head.

But because of the order I'd issued beforehand, every member of my team had avoided the direct impact in those crucial seconds before the explosion. They protected themselves to the greatest extent possible, reducing the damage to a minimum.

George and Lisa weren't nearly as lucky.

The moment George flicked the lighter, completely unprepared, he didn't even have time to scream before a blue fireball surged forward and swallowed him whole.

Standing so close to him, Lisa didn't escape either. The violent shockwave hurled her into the air and slammed her against a load-bearing wall with a sickening thud.

The fire-resistant suit she wore blackened and carbonized under the terrifying heat, releasing thin curls of white smoke.

A few seconds later, the fiercest wave of the blast finally subsided.

Fighting through the ringing in my ears and the ache in my shaken organs, I pushed myself off the ground and shouted, "Sound off!"

"One!"

"Two!"

"Three!"

"Captain, everyone's present—no serious injuries!" Josh's voice rose from within the smoke, tinged with the relief of someone who had just survived disaster.

Once I confirmed that all team members had escaped with nothing more than impact injuries and scrapes, I issued orders immediately.

"Team One, with me—put out the flames! Keep the fire contained! Team Two, prepare for search and rescue!"

I grabbed an extinguisher and rushed toward the gas tank still burning.

Minutes later, the remaining flames were under control.

When I reached Lisa, she had already fallen unconscious. Her cheeks and neck were covered with horrifying blisters from severe burns.

Beside her, George was beyond recognition—his entire body charred black, only his chest rising and falling with the faintest trace of life.

I wouldn't deny it—my heart went numb for a single, fleeting moment.

All the resentment and tangled history between us flashed through my mind like fragments of an old silent film.

But my professional instinct kicked in in an instant. The next moment, the two of them became nothing more than injured civilians in need of emergency aid.

That was my duty—nothing to do with love or hate.

My hands didn't pause for even a second as I calmly directed the rescue effort.

After getting downstairs, I transferred the wounded to the medical staff already waiting outside.

The accident investigation team and police had arrived as well.

Director Rick Bollen, who was leading the group, walked over and patted my shoulder. "Finn, good work. What's the situation inside?"

I straightened, stood at attention, and saluted him crisply.

"Sir! The fire has been extinguished and the severely injured have been transported to the hospital."

The hospital reeked of disinfectant and burn ointment, the suffocating mix heavy enough to choke a person.

George had been rushed straight into the ICU the moment he arrived—covered in third-degree burns. The doctors issued multiple critical-condition notices. Whether he would live or die was still unknown.

Lisa survived, but her face, neck, and hands were all severely burned. For a woman who valued her looks more than her life, this was a fate worse than death.

I had barely reached the doorway of her hospital room when I heard the piercing screams inside.

"It's Finn! All of it—everything—is his fault!" Lisa shrieked, her voice hoarse and dripping with venom.

"He did it on purpose! He barked at George like a mad dog just to provoke him, to embarrass him! He wanted George dead!"

She was twisting the facts. A classic villain crying foul first.

But what she said next chilled me far more.

"And… and he threatened me!" Her voice cracked with feigned fear.

"Right before the explosion, he sent me a message—he said he never liked George, said… said he wished George would just die! I have screenshots. I have proof!"

The door suddenly yanked open from the inside. George's mother, hair disheveled and eyes blood-red like a vengeful ghost, spotted me instantly.

"You! Murderer!" she screeched, clawing at my face like she wanted to tear it off. "Give me back my son! You despicable bastard, why did you set him up to die?!"

A middle-aged man with an unmistakable air of authority charged out right behind her—Lisa's father.

He dragged George's mother aside and jabbed a finger at my nose, his face livid.

"Finn, you animal! Lisa treated you so well, and you let her end up disfigured! This isn't over! Mark my words—you're going to rot in prison!"

The patients and families gathered nearby started whispering and pointing.

"It's him? He looks decent enough—how can someone this sinister hide in plain sight?"

"Young people these days… hurting others over petty relationship drama. Terrifying."

A middle-aged woman even spat at my feet, glaring at me with open contempt.

"You dare wear that uniform? Firefighters save lives—you take them! You don't deserve to wear that badge!"

"Exactly! How did a psychological deviant like you get into the fire department? Didn't learn how to save people, but scheming comes naturally! Take off that uniform and get out—you're disgracing real heroes!"

The insults buzzed around me like a swarm of flies.

And still, Lisa felt it wasn't enough. Her body began to tremble violently. Her bandaged fingers pointed shakily at me.

"Ah—! Don't come near me! Stay away! Murderer!"

"Dad! Mom! Make him leave! I'm scared! He hurt George! Now he's here to hurt me too!"

She curled up at the corner of the bed, crying harder, putting on a full, dramatic performance.

Seeing the girl her beloved son loved terrified out of her mind, George's mother's rage boiled over.

"You monster—trying to scare her too?! I'll kill you!"

Lisa's father shook with fury. He turned to the crowd and shouted, "Everyone, look! This is the 'hero' they talk about! Today I'll demand justice—for my daughter, and for George, who's still fighting for his life in the ICU!"

The crowd's emotions ignited completely. The accusations surged, harsher, louder.

And as I watched this farce unfold—this carefully staged attack designed to destroy me—I understood instantly.

Lisa wanted every sin, every consequence, every piece of fallout to land squarely on me. She wanted me ruined.

Fine, since she was this ruthless, she couldn't blame me for the consequences that came. Whatever sympathy I had left evaporated in that moment.

"Lisa," I said coldly, locking eyes with her contorted face on the hospital bed, "this performance of yours… it's about time the curtain came down."

The hallway fell into an eerie silence for a heartbeat. I saw the panic flicker in her eyes.

The next second, I reached into my chest pocket and pulled out the recorder.

"What a coincidence," I said. "I also have something I'd like everyone to hear."