My 'Flirt or Die' System: Wooing the Ice Queen to Stay Alive

7: The Hospital Bed Hustle

The silence that followed Elzandri’s declaration was not empty; it was heavy, pressurized like the air inside a diving bell. The Van Dyk Patriarch, a man whose presence felt like a tectonic plate shifting, leaned heavily on his silver-headed cane. His eyes, two chips of flint-grey ice, didn't look at his granddaughter. They bored into Ruan’s pale, sweat-slicked face as the younger man’s consciousness flickered like a dying candle.

Dian Kruger’s face underwent a terrifying transformation. The "perfect" mask didn't just crack; it dissolved into a raw, pulsating fury. The sapphire light in his eyes flared, casting jagged blue shadows against the white marble. "Fiancé?" he spat, the word sounding like a curse. "Elzandri, this is a pathetic ruse. You found this man in a gutter three days ago."

"My floor is covered in the blood of a Van Dyk guest," the Patriarch’s voice rumbled, a sound that seemed to vibrate the very foundations of the Opera House. He didn't raise his voice, but the tactical team stepped back as if struck. "And you, Dian, speak of gutters while your men hold weapons in my house?"

Ruan didn't hear the rest. The world dissolved into a smear of red and gold, the rhythmic thump-thump-thump of a medevac helicopter becoming the only heartbeat he had left.

Ruan woke to the smell of sterile ozone and the rhythmic, mocking chirp-beep of a heart monitor.

Every breath felt like dragging a rusted saw blade across his chest. He tried to move his left arm, but a white-hot spike of agony shot from his shoulder to his jaw, pinning him back against the stiff, high-thread-count sheets. The room was bathed in the soft, blue-tinged light of a private medical wing—the kind of place where the machines didn't just monitor you; they whispered of bills that could buy a small island.

[HOST STATUS: CRITICALLY STABLE (WHICH IS AN OXYMORON, BUT WE’LL TAKE IT).] [LIFE-FORCE: 18%... REGENERATING AT 0.1% PER HOUR.]

"Oh, look who’s decided to join the living," Liefde-7’s voice drawled in his mind. The AI sounded exhausted, its usual digital crispness replaced by a faint, static-filled rasp. "You took a high-velocity round to the scapula, Ruan. If the Ice Queen hadn't dumped her 'Contact Bonus' into your system, you’d currently be a very handsome corpse in a very expensive bag."

Elzandri, Ruan thought, his mind a foggy swamp. Where is she?

"Three o'clock," the AI replied.

Ruan tilted his head, the movement making the room spin. Elzandri was slumped in a minimalist leather chair by the window. She was still wearing the silver-scaled gown, though it was stained with a dark, dried rust color across the bodice—his blood. Her hair was a tangled mess, and she was gripping her own elbows so tightly her knuckles were translucent. She wasn't sleeping; her eyes were fixed on the door, her jaw set in a line of pure, unyielding tension.

She noticed his movement. In an instant, the vulnerability vanished, replaced by the familiar, frosted armor. She stood up, her heels clicking softly on the linoleum as she approached the bed.

"You’re awake," she said. It wasn't a question; it was an accusation.

"Missed me... that much?" Ruan wheezed, his voice sounding like it had been filtered through sandpaper.

Elzandri reached out, her hand hovering near the IV line. For a second, her fingers trembled. "You are an idiot, Ruan Visser. You jumped in front of a bullet meant for a woman you’ve known for less than forty-eight hours. Why?"

Ruan looked at her, the 'X-Ray Sincerity' flickering weakly in his vision.

[ACTIVE THOUGHT: HE SAVED ME. NO ONE HAS EVER... WHY DID HE SAVE ME?]

"The... benefits package... was too good to pass up," Ruan whispered, forcing a ghost of a smirk.

Elzandri’s eyes narrowed, but the frost didn't return. Instead, a strange, flickering shadow of something else—guilt, perhaps, or something more dangerous—crossed her face. "Don't get cocky. You’re only here because I told my grandfather we were engaged. If I hadn't, Dian’s 'cleaners' would have had you in a furnace before the sun came up."

"Engaged," Ruan repeated, the weight of the lie settling on his chest. "That’s... a big step for a first date."

"It’s a strategic necessity," she snapped, turning away to pace the small room. "The Board was ready to move against me. Dian had them convinced I was losing my mind. But a surprise engagement to a 'private consultant' from a powerful, albeit mysterious, family? It creates enough chaos to buy me time. But it only works if you play the part."

[WARNING: SYSTEM INTERFERENCE DETECTED.] [THE PREDATOR IS AT THE GATE.]

The heavy oak door to the suite didn't open; it was thrown back.

Dian Kruger stepped in, flanked by two men in suits that looked more like body armor. He had changed into a charcoal suit, but the sapphire light in his eyes was blindingly bright, pulsating with a rhythmic, predatory hunger. He held a holographic tablet in one hand, the blue light of the display reflecting off his sharp features.

"Visiting hours are over, Elzandri," Dian said, his voice a smooth, lethal purr. He didn't look at her; his gaze was fixed on Ruan like a hawk watching a wounded mouse. "I have a court-ordered medical transfer. Given the 'unstable nature' of Mr. Visser’s presence and the suspicious circumstances of the shooting, the Board has authorized his relocation to a secure Kruger-affiliated facility for 'specialized care.'"

Elzandri stepped between Dian and the bed, her height no match for his, but her presence filling the room. "He stays here, Dian. This is a Van Dyk hospital."

"Not for long," Dian countered, holding up the tablet. "Your grandfather's signature is already on the digital warrant. He wants the 'fiancé' vetted, Elzandri. And I’ve offered to do the vetting personally."

[ALERT: PROXIMITY WARNING!] [DISTANCE TO TARGET: 2 METERS.] [IF HOST IS REMOVED FROM ELZANDRI’S PROXIMITY, SYSTEM SELF-DESTRUCT WILL TRIGGER IN 60 SECONDS.]

Ruan felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead. "Liefde... what do I do?"

"You have one shot, Host," the AI hissed. "Unlocking High-Tier Skill: 'Pathological Liar (Aura of Conviction).' You need to convince the world—and Dian’s system—that this engagement isn't just real, it's ancient history."

Ruan felt a strange, oily heat spread through his brain. It wasn't like the 'Perfect Smirk' or the 'Waltz' skill; this felt like his own memories were being rewritten in real-time, weaving a tapestry of lies so vibrant they felt like truth.

"Dian," Ruan said, his voice suddenly steady, vibrating with a rich, unearned confidence.

Dian paused, his eyes narrowing. "Quiet, worm. The adults are—"

"You really should check your archives before you try to kidnap a man," Ruan interrupted. He forced himself to sit up, the pain in his shoulder screaming, but his face remained a mask of calm, aristocratic boredom. "Did you really think Elzandri and I met this week? We’ve been 'vetted' since the summer of '19 in Zurich. Or did you forget about the Visser-Van Dyk shipping merger that was scrapped five years ago?"

Elzandri froze, her head whipping around to look at him. She knew it was a lie, but Ruan’s voice was so certain, so filled with specific, mundane details, that even she felt a flicker of doubt.

"Zurich?" Dian laughed, but the sapphire light in his eyes flickered. "There is no record of a Visser family in Zurich."

"Of course not," Ruan said, leaning back into the pillows, his eyes locking onto Dian’s with a piercing intensity. "We go by the maternal line there. The Von Bergens. My grandfather and the Patriarch go back forty years, Dian. The 'engagement' isn't a surprise to the family. It’s a fulfillment of a contract that’s older than your father’s company."

Ruan reached out, his hand finding Elzandri’s. He squeezed it, his skin meeting hers.

[SKILL: PATHOLOGICAL LIAR (SYNCED WITH TARGET)]

The 'X-Ray Sincerity' surged. Ruan didn't just lie; he projected the lie into the air. For a moment, the room felt different. The smell of the hospital faded, replaced by the ghost of alpine air and expensive cigars.

The door opened again. The Patriarch walked in, his cane thudding against the floor. He looked at the scene—Dian with his warrant, Elzandri holding Ruan’s hand, and Ruan looking like a king on a throne of pillows.

"Grandfather," Elzandri said, her voice catching Ruan’s rhythm. "Dian was just trying to tell me that our history in Zurich was... 'suspicious.'"

The Patriarch’s eyes traveled to Ruan. He stayed silent for a long, agonizing minute. The air in the room felt like it was ionizing, the pressure building until Ruan’s ears popped.

"Von Bergen," the Patriarch whispered, the name tasting like old wine on his tongue. He looked at Ruan’s hand clutching Elzandri’s. "I haven't heard that name in a long time. You have your grandfather’s eyes, boy. The same... unsettling honesty."

Dian’s jaw tightened. "Sir, this is a fabrication! Look at his vitals, look at his—"

"Enough, Dian," the Patriarch commanded. He turned to the guards. "Leave us. Now."

Dian hesitated, the blue light in his eyes turning into a dark, bruised purple. He looked at Ruan, and for a split second, his 'Tyrant' HUD became visible to Ruan—a jagged, red notification flashing: [TARGET PROTECTED BY HIGHER AUTHORITY. HARVEST DELAYED.]

Dian leaned over the bed, his voice a whisper that only Ruan could hear. "Zurich was a nice touch, Host. But lies have a way of catching fire. I’m going to enjoy watching you burn when the Patriarch asks for the Von Bergen seal at the hunt tomorrow."

Dian turned on his heel and strode out, his men following like shadows.

The Patriarch watched him go, then turned his gaze back to Ruan. The warmth he had shown moments ago vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating sharpness.

"My granddaughter is a brilliant CEO," the old man said, his voice like grinding stones. "But she is a terrible liar. She didn't learn it from me. You, however..." He leaned in, his silver cane head pressing into the mattress inches from Ruan’s hip. "You lie like a man who has already died once."

Ruan’s heart hammered against his ribs. "I don't know what you mean, sir."

"I don't care who you are, Von Bergen or Visser," the Patriarch said. "But you’ve claimed to be part of this family. And in this family, we don't just sign contracts. We prove our worth in blood."

He straightened up, his eyes flicking to Elzandri. "The traditional Hunt begins tomorrow at dawn on the estate. If you are truly the man you claim to be, you will survive it. If not..." He paused, a cruel smile touching his lips. "The wolves on the estate haven't been fed in three days."

The Patriarch turned and walked out, leaving a suffocating silence behind him.

Elzandri let go of Ruan’s hand as if it had turned into a snake. She stood up, her face pale. "The Hunt? Ruan, you can't even stand. The Hunt is a three-day trek through the mountains. It’s how my family 'culls' the weak."

"I'll be fine," Ruan panted, the 'Pathological Liar' skill wearing off and leaving him drained. "Liefde... tell me we have a 'Super Soldier' skill."

"Better," Liefde-7 whispered, a new notification blooming in Ruan’s vision.

[MISSION UPDATE: THE PATRIARCH’S TEST] [OBJECTIVE: SURVIVE THE MOUNTAIN HUNT.] [UNLOCKED SKILL: LEGENDARY MARKSMAN (PASSIVE).] [CRITICAL CATCH: THE SKILL ONLY FUNCTIONS WHILE HOLDING THE TARGET'S HAND.]

Ruan looked at his bandaged shoulder, then at the window where the sun was beginning to rise over the jagged peaks of the Van Dyk estate.

"Elzandri," Ruan said.

"What?" she snapped, her hand on the door.

"You might want to get some comfortable boots," Ruan wheezed. "Because for the next three days... we’re going to be inseparable."

Elzandri opened her mouth to argue, but the hospital’s television, left on mute in the corner, suddenly flickered. The news ticker at the bottom began to scroll a message that wasn't a headline.

[SERVER UPDATE 2.0: BATTLE ROYALE MODE INITIALIZED.]

A low, guttural howl echoed from somewhere far outside the hospital walls—a sound that wasn't human, and certainly wasn't an animal.

"Ruan," Elzandri whispered, staring out the window at the dark woods below the mountains. "Why are the trees... glowing blue?"

Ruan looked out, his blood turning to ice. In the distance, dozens of sapphire-blue lights were blinking on in the forest—the eyes of a hundred 'Tyrant' drones, all turning toward the hospital.

[NEW MISSION: RUN.]