Neat wish

"I'll say it again. Shall we hold hands this time?"

Alice didn't need her skill to know what to say.

"And what do you get out of it?"

"It's a partnership, isn't it? I want the same thing as you. To earn some points with the man I love..."

Alice shook her head. The milkshake was delicious. Cold like her gaze.

She didn't like the joke one bit.

"I'll be honest... I only want one thing. For you not to come between him and me."

Sparks of doubt and distrust filled the air.

"You're asking the wrong person."

Sofia raised an eyebrow. Surprised by the tired tone.

"So even hunters have feelings?..."

'You two make a beautiful couple.'

The desire to cut everything off only grew in Alice's heart. Silent and poisonous. Stretched like a rubber band about to snap.

"Be honest. I can read people. If I came here, it's because you're the only thing between me and that man. So stop it."

"I'm not anymore."

"You're the only one in his heart," Sofia's tone vibrated in the air. Severe, direct and so frustrated that notes of discomfort arose in her chest.

The food wouldn't go down well if she didn't admit that at least once.

"It doesn't matter how many human women Nero has. I don't care. But unless I erase the memories of both of you..."

The energy core in her chest began to vibrate. Curses she didn't know about began to sprout in her mind like weeds. Her heart trembled along with her soul.

One thing was certain.

She wasn't willing to see that future happen.

'Come on, sorry about before! Just calm down, okay? Eat some more.'

If Sofia saw the danger, she didn't show it.

"... I can't imagine you out of his life," his voice was soft from start to finish.

Neither of them looked away.

Alice wasn't hungry anymore, but she still brought the tray closer, as if they could defend her.

"Okay."

And in the end, she accepted.

Her thinking was simple.

It was better to create a bridge and know the enemy than to build a wall that could be destroyed.

...

..

.

"I'm dying."

The old man touched book after book. The shelves were full of them. He had no time for the pains of a young woman's love.

"We all are, my dear. The difference is when and...", he leaned on the ladder, searching for the last one with his fingertips. "... Where. Of course, other things matter."

He looked into her blue eyes. Like cobalt blue stars. So beautiful, cold and distant... As far as the old man could remember, the coldness had always been there. The void, no.

Distant, cold and lifeless...

"For example, how much you love," she replied. She adjusted her posture on the sofa. "We are all born to die. That is a fact, the difference is whether we die resisting or suffering. So, what is your pain?"

"Have you ever loved?"

The old man smiled. His white mustache gave him a paternal appearance. His eyes were shells, his irises two pearls. And yet the young woman felt that many had died seeing that expression.

Perhaps a little distorted.

"Of course. All of us, right? We are born loving."

She could imagine a red stain here and there. Blood would only enhance its beauty and terror.

"For a baby, milk is love. For an adult, it needs to be a little more complex."

"I was a child at the time. It shouldn't be complex. We were so good together..."

"I bet it is, miss."

"Is it wrong for me to want to kill something? Getting it off my chest seems hard..."

"Would watching someone suffer help? Self-knowledge is neces..."

"I don't want your books, Claude! I deserve more!"

He realized right away. It wasn't the same amused melancholy as always.

His child was suffering from a much greater pain.

A never-ending thirst.

"You'll have it. Don't worry," her eyes sharpened. The subtle emptiness became an abyss,

Claude felt suffocated.

To make a predator feel fear...

'As expected of you. But this is bad... she has reasons to kill someone.'

The young woman, with a delicate touch, picked up the heaviest and most elegant book on the table.

The silver eyes saw this with a pang of pain, not so much because of the book.

"Throwing books won't fill the void..."

"Reading, maybe? I've swallowed enough letters...", she wasn't joking.

"You know that too, don't you? After I lost him, the letters turned to ink. Then a little black dot..."

A dark flame that could devour the world was born in that indigo abyss.

"... And so the abyss devoured me", her stern voice reverberated, completing her speech. The contrast in their tones... Almost non-existent.

"It's a beautiful poem. I could recite it to you backwards, without getting tired. But don't underestimate me. I know the place you're in, and there's a way out."

The appearance of his body was that of an adult before forty, young and virile, that's how it was supposed to be. Seconds later he became prey. An old, trembling rabbit.

The hairs on her body stood on end even with the windows closed, the cold crept up her spine like a slender finger on bare skin.

Age, experience, strength... all that was built over time?... None of that mattered in front of a talent like that.

"Please calm down, princess..."

The next moment the bookshelves vibrated. Soon they were shaking like cornered animals.

The windows exploded into fragments, a storm turned the pages for the reader. The shards cut her face, but what hurt her heart was seeing her child crying.

Her hatred was real, as voracious as the burning bookshelves right behind her.

The elements were out of control.

Vines and branches grew on the wood, only to burn and crackle. Orange covered her entire vision as the wind blew her long hair.

The tears couldn't stop either.

Claude blinked.

Everything was gone. His books were back.

There were no wounds, flames, or wind.

Only tears continued to stain the beautiful face.

"C-claude..."

"Yes?..."

"I want to die."

"I know."