The air grew heavier, dimly electric with tension as Eve's black sclera glead under the flickering light of the chandelier. Her spiraling twin tails undulated hypnotically, each movent exuding chaos and malice.
While the severed head of the Drowned Revenant rested on the table like a grim centerpiece, her defiant eyes glaring even in her dismbered state.
Eve took a step forward, her dark grin stretching unnaturally wide, her floating hands flexing and curling like ravenous predators eager to pounce. "Oh, what a beautiful place. So cozy, so warm. But don't mind ... I only ca to fetch what's mine."
The Vivianes were the first to react.
"Enough!" my original Viviane declared, her orange eyes blazing like twin suns as she stepped between Eve and the rest of us. Her voice cut through the room like a blade, firm and unyielding. "You won't take another step."
In an instant, the remaining Vivianes mobilized, each of them moving with synchronized precision. The scholarly Viviane began weaving a lattice of glowing runes into the air, their shapes pulsating with latent energy. The battle-scarred Viviane unsheathed a jagged blade, her scars glowing faintly as she grinned with savage anticipation. Even the child-like Viviane, who had been swinging her legs monts ago, sprang to her feet, her playful deanor replaced by a focused determination.
The puppets stationed around the room sprang to life as if summoned by the urgency of the Vivianes' movents. Their porcelain faces remained expressionless, but their limbs moved with eerie precision as they drew weapons and positioned themselves strategically around the room at lightning speed.
Eve tilted her head, her spirals slowing montarily before resuming their maddening rhythm. "So many little fireflies buzzing about," she purred, her discordant voice echoing like a broken symphony. "How cute... But do you really think you can stop …? Why are there so many annoyances…? Didn't I just fight an army of those dolls a mont ago…? Hah! They are itching to pounce , I see…!"
"Go!" the stately Viviane barked, her voice a command that left no room for argunt. "Everyone, to the next room!"
The bastioneers hesitated for only a mont. "But—" Yora began, only to be silenced by a sharp glare from the scholarly Viviane.
"Now!" she snapped, her tone leaving no room for debate.
I didn't move. Not yet.
As I watched the Vivianes array themselves against Eve, a single, chilling realization settled over .
This was futile.
I hadn't seen the full extent of Eve's power, but I didn't need to. The Drowned Revenant's severed state was evidence enough. I had fought and sealed that monstrous entity alongside Kuzunoha, and even then, it had been a desperate struggle. Now, seeing the Revenant's diminished form, I understood how far beyond us Eve truly was.
Eve couldn't be defeated by conventional ans. Not by violence. Not by force.
The Vivianes had to know this. They were clever—calculating. If they were still willing to clash headfirst with her, then it ant one thing: they were prepared to sacrifice themselves.
My heart clenched at the thought. These were alternate versions of Viviane—fragnts of a soul I had co to admire and trust. They were prepared to throw their lives away, and for what? A delaying tactic?
My mind raced. My thoughts unraveled and reassembled in an instant of searing clarity.
Why did I care so much? Why did I care about these bastioneers, these Vivianes, or Verina, or anyone?
I didn't truly understand them. Not completely. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't connect with people the way others seed to. All I saw were the benefits they brought .
I saw them as puzzle pieces. Even if they were a precious one, and were part of the puzzle that I loved the most, should my heart feel this clenched?
They are beneficial to , for sure, but they weren't an all-solving tape that I could use reliably…
Yet... why did I cling to those re benefits so desperately? Was it to be happy? To achieve so semblance of stability? To fill the void that had defined in another life?
Lothair.
In my past life, I had been Lothair, a man disconnected from the world around him. I had trusted no one. I had lived a life devoid of warmth, alienated even from my own family. Even with my unique symptom, it was still hard for to place myself in others' shoes without sorting the logic and reachable conclusion behind their behaviour and action.
But that wasn't entirely true.
In those rare monts of clarity, when the walls around my heart had crumbled, I had felt it. Trust. My family, flawed as they were, had trusted . And that trust had cracked the frozen shell encasing my soul, allowing to feel sothing—anything—other than emptiness.
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Thanks to their trust in , I also began realizing how irrational and illogical their decisions were when it cos to . I'm not the brightest child they possessed, nor was the greatest, kindest sibling that stood in their house.
But they accepted as their own.
As I think about it, was it really the right choice to hide the truth from them? Maybe my life won't be as lonely and painful if I were a little bit honest back then…
And now, as Narcissus—or Daffodil, or whatever I was—I was trusted again.
And for the first ti, I trusted them in return.
"Haaah…"
Trust.
It was fragile, precarious, and easily broken. Yet it was powerful. A mother trusted her infant despite the risks. A child trusted their parents despite the flaws. Trust was a leap of faith, a bridge between souls.
And my trust in these people had not been betrayed. Not yet. Not once.
It wasn't a bond of logic or calculation. It was sothing kinder, sothing unspoken. Sothing worth protecting.
I took a step forward, through the depth of heart and the warmth of the fireside corner of my soul, my voice cutting through the chaos with the clarity of a praying bell.
"
Stop.
"
The room froze.
Every eye turned to . The Vivianes hesitated mid-action, their runes and weapons held in suspension. The bastioneers, caught between retreat and resistance, looked at with wide eyes. Even Eve paused, her spirals slowing as she tilted her head, her black sclera gleaming with curiosity, possibly noticing how sincere I was with my word.
"I want a mont alone with Eve," I said, my voice steady and resolute.
The stately Viviane's expression hardened. "Absolutely not. She's too dangerous."
"Dangerous is an understatent," added the battle-scarred Viviane, her scarred lips curling into a grimace. "You can't seriously expect us to leave you alone with her."
"I do," I replied firmly, eting their gaze one by one. "I know what I'm doing."
The stately Viviane opened her mouth to protest again, but my Viviane stepped forward, her orange eyes searching mine. "Are you certain?" she asked quietly.
I nodded. "Yes."
She studied for a long mont, her expression unreadable. Then, to my surprise, she turned to the others. "We'll give her the space she's asking for."
"What?!" the scholarly Viviane exclaid. "You can't be serious!"
"I am," my Viviane replied, her tone brokering no dissent. "She's made her decision."
Verina, who had remained at my side throughout, placed a hand on my arm. Her touch was warm, steadying. "Can I trust you?" she asked softly, her voice carrying a weight that made my chest tighten.
She was the first one to fully trust in this world. Right after my first Ordeal, the gleam in her eyes changed into sothing so understanding and dangerous.
I t her gaze and smiled. "You can."
She held my gaze for a mont longer before stepping back, her faith in evident in the quiet certainty of her movents.
"Alright," she said, addressing the room. "Let's go."
The bastioneers and Vivianes began to file out reluctantly, their expressions a mix of worry and disbelief. Along with them, also followed the puppet servants who noticed the calming tension in this mansion.
Erika hesitated at the door, her clear-blue eyes shimring with unshed tears.
"Be careful, my lord," she ekly whispered before following the others.
As the last of them disappeared through the doorway, the room fell silent.
It was just and Eve now.
She watched intently, her spirals slowing to an upbeat rhythm. Her grin widened, her floating hands curling and uncurling in anticipation.
From now on, it all depends on the trust that I had put on myself.
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