THE LOSER GOD OF WAR IS MIRACLE DOCTOR

CHAPTER 4

The receptionist stood frozen in place, mouth agape as if he'd just witnessed a ghost materialize before his eyes. The manager, Mr. Zhasper, was practically drowning in his own nervous sweat, his forehead glistening under the restaurant's elegant lighting as he continued his profuse apologies.

"Mr. Keith, I cannot express how deeply sorry I am for this inexcusable incident," Mr. Zhasper said, bowing repeatedly. "Please, I beg for your forgiveness."

Mr. Zhasper suddenly whirled around, his apologetic demeanor vanishing as he faced the receptionist. "You!" he bellowed, his voice echoing across the entrance hall. "Did I not specifically explain on your very first day what that card signifies? Did I not make it absolutely clear?"

The receptionist's eyes darted nervously between his furious boss and the mysterious guest. "I—I didn't actually look at the card, sir," he stammered.

"You didn't look?" Mr. Zhasper's voice rose to an even higher pitch. "You insulted our most prestigious guest without even bothering to look at his credentials?"

The receptionist finally glanced down at the black card still lying on the counter. Now that he examined it properly, he could see the subtle engraving in the corner: "001." His face paled dramatically.

"This... this is the supreme VIP card," he whispered, horror dawning on his features. "Number one. That means—"

"Yes, you incompetent buffoon!" Mr. Zhasper hissed. "Mr. Keith is our most honored guest!"

The receptionist immediately dropped to his knees, trembling like a cornered mouse. "Sir, please forgive me! I had no idea—"

"Save your breath," Mr. Zhasper cut him off. "You're fired. Clear out your things and leave immediately."

Keith observed the scene with mild amusement, saying nothing as the receptionist scrambled away, nearly tripping over himself in his rush to escape.

"Now, Mr. Keith," Mr. Zhasper said, his voice instantly returning to its smooth, deferential tone, "please allow me to escort you personally."

"Thank you," Keith replied simply. As they walked through the restaurant's opulent interior, he added, "My friend will be arriving shortly. I'll wait for her here."

"Of course, sir!" Mr. Zhasper guided him to the best table in the main dining area, positioned perfectly to enjoy both privacy and an excellent view of the city skyline through the floor-to-ceiling windows. "I'll fetch our finest wine for you while you wait."

As the manager hurried away, Keith relaxed in his chair, enjoying the momentary peace. It didn't last long.

"Well, well, well," came an all-too-familiar voice from behind him. "Look who's here."

Why do I keep running into these two selfish people?  Keith thought, suppressing a sigh. He turned to find Emilia and Denver standing nearby, both dressed in designer outfits that practically screamed "trying too hard."

Emilia's lips curled into a sneer. "You have some nerve following us into a place like this, Keith. What did you do, tell them you're my husband to get past the door?"

"Pathetic," Denver added with a smirk. "This is a reservation-only establishment, and I made our reservations personally. You have no right to be here."

Keith regarded them coolly. "I'm a guest here. I don't need to explain myself to either of you."

Emilia snorted with laughter. "A guest? Here? That's like a cockroach claiming the penthouse suite!" She turned to Denver. "Can you believe this guy?"

Denver joined in her laughter. "Next, he'll claim he owns the place!"

Keith was about to respond when a striking woman entered the restaurant. She had jet-black hair cascading down her shoulders and wore a sleek burgundy dress that accentuated her elegant figure. The entire restaurant seemed to dim in comparison to her radiance.

"Keith!" she called out, spotting him immediately and making her way over.

Emilia's laughter died in her throat as she watched the beautiful woman approach their table.

"I'm so sorry I'm late," the woman said, giving Keith a warm embrace. She glanced curiously at Emilia and Denver. "Are these friends of yours?"

Keith's expression remained impassive. "Linda, meet Emilia Richardson and Denver Walsh. Emilia is technically still my wife, though divorce papers are forthcoming."

Linda's eyes widened slightly. "Oh! It's... interesting to meet you both." Her tone suggested it was anything but interesting.

Emilia stood there with her mouth slightly open, struggling to process the scene before her. The jealousy that flashed across her face was as obvious as a peacock's display—colorful, excessive, and impossible to miss.

"And who exactly are you?" Emilia demanded, her voice unnaturally high.

"I'm Linda," she replied coolly. "Keith and I are old friends."

"Old friends?" Emilia repeated, her eyes narrowing suspiciously as she took in Linda's stunning appearance. The green-eyed monster of jealousy was clearly taking hold, transforming her face into a mask of barely concealed envy.