Chapter-34 Conversations In The Dark

Frederique pushed open the door to her small apartment, the hinges creaking softly in protest. The faint scent of old wood and rain lingered in the air, the kind of dampness that clung stubbornly after storms. Dim evening light spilled through the cracked blinds, painting long shadows across the floor.

It still didn't feel like home.

Not entirely.

The apartment was sparse... a table, a couch, and a narrow kitchen that felt barely lived in. On the counter, a folded note caught her eye, the paper pressed beneath a smooth stone.

Lira's looping handwriting was unmistakable:

' Freddy,

Got called for a mission. Don't wait up... should be back tomorrow. Try not to burn the place down while I'm gone.

P.S. There's leftover pasta in the fridge. Eat.'

Frederique snorted softly. Typical Lira. Always making it sound like she needed babysitting.

But as she set the note down, the realization crept in.

She was alone.

No cheerful teasing. No company. Just the quiet hum of the city outside and the subtle weight pressing behind her eyes.

She rubbed her face and slouched onto the couch, the book Lysandro had given her still clutched tightly in her hands. She hadn't opened it yet. She wasn't sure she wanted to.

The silence pressed heavier now.

But it wasn't just silence.

It was never just silence anymore.

"You're awfully quiet tonight."

The voice whispered from inside her, cold and soft as breath fogging glass.

Frederique stiffened, fingers curling into the fabric of her hoodie.

"Not in the mood, Frideria."

"Liar."

The presence stirred... not hostile, but lingering, brushing the edges of her mind with a hunger she couldn't ignore.

Frederique scowled.

"What do you want?"

"You let the questions pile up. I can feel them."

Frideria's voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, like nails tapping faintly against the back of her thoughts.

"You're thinking about that book, about the hunters. About the things Lysandro didn't tell you."

Frederique stared at the book in her lap, its silver spiral design catching the dim light.

"...Yeah. So? What does it matter?"

"It matters because you're afraid."

The words struck deeper than they should have. Frederique's jaw tightened.

"I'm not afraid."

"You are. You're afraid of me."

Silence again. Frederique's pulse ticked faster.

Her lips parted, but no words came.

It wasn't the first time she'd heard that accusation. But this time, there was no anger behind Frideria's voice. No mockery. Just... quiet understanding.

"...You're dangerous," Frederique said finally, her voice quieter than she intended.

"And you're not?"

Frederique blinked.

"You've hurt people too, remember? When you lost control? Or have you already forgotten the taste of blood?"

She flinched. The memories flashed behind her eyes... the first time her hunger had really taken over. The weight of another body against her. The pain. The heat.

"I didn't want that," she whispered.

"Neither did I."

That stopped her cold.

For a long moment, Frederique couldn't respond. Frideria had never sounded so... honest.

Finally, Frederique whispered, "Then why do you keep pushing me? Why do you make me lose control?"

The presence shifted, a cold ripple across her skin.

"I don't. I survive. I exist. I am hunger, Frederique. That's what I was born to be. But that doesn't mean I enjoy it."

Frederique felt her chest tighten.

"So... you're saying you can't stop it? That you won't stop?"

A beat.

"I'm saying we both need to stop lying to ourselves."

The room felt smaller, suffocating.

Frederique ran a hand through her tangled hair, nails biting into her scalp.

"So what? We're just stuck like this forever? You eating away at me while I try to pretend everything's fine?"

"It doesn't have to be like that."

Frederique stilled.

"You think I want to fight you? To be your monster? I don't. But I can only survive if you survive. And you're not surviving like this, Frederique. You're starving."

Her breath caught.

"Not for food. Not really."

Frederique shook her head, heart pounding.

"Don't... "

"You're starving for something you won't admit. You're scared to feel. Scared to let yourself want anything real because it hurts too much. But I can feel it. Every time you're alone. Every time you push people away. The hunger's deeper than you think, Frederique. And you won't let it go."

Tears welled at the edges of her vision, hot and unwelcome. She swallowed hard.

"...I don't need you psychoanalyzing me," she muttered.

"Then stop pretending you don't hear me."

Frederique wiped her eyes, furious at herself for the weakness.

"...What do you even want, Frideria? What's your endgame? You just keep pushing and pushing, but I don't even know why you're still here."

A pause.

And then, softer than ever before:

"I don't want to disappear."

Frederique blinked.

"What?"

"You think I'm just... a thing inside you. Some parasite. Maybe I was. At first. But now? I'm more than that. I'm you, Frederique. Or at least part of you. I don't want to fade. I don't want to be forgotten. So I push. I fight. Because if I don't... what am I?"

The silence stretched.

Frederique's voice cracked.

"...And if I let you in more? What happens then? Do I stop being me?"

"No. We become something stronger. Together."

Frederique didn't know how long she sat there in the quiet, the sound of her own heartbeat thundering in her ears.

But eventually, she whispered, "Okay. Let's try."

And for the first time, the presence in her mind felt... calm. Not gone. But no longer pushing.

Waiting.

Trusting.