Demonic Tongue [3]

By midnight, Vanitas arrived at the magitrain station, ready to head back. Or rather, to the university tower.

His office was his temporary home for now.

"Platform five. The next train leaves in twenty minutes."

"Thanks." 

Vanitas took the ticket and turned away, making his way through the station.

As he walked, his eyes scanned the crowd. Travelers hurried about, some dragging luggage, others chatting quietly. 

He paid little attention until something familiar caught his eye.

"....?"

A head of snow-white hair.

It was Margaret, who was sitting alone on one of the benches, seemingly waiting for something—or someone.

There was no mistake. It was her. Dressed in a simple yet elegant outfit, she sat with her legs crossed as she rested her hands on her lap.

Vanitas walked to a vending machine, bought a drink, and approached her from behind. 

Without a word, he pressed the cold can against her cheek.