Six days after the Ant Nest operation.
The citizens of Parisie were not particularly shocked by that disturbance.
Many felt that the deformed building should have been cleared out long ago.
The poor wretches and heretics who lived there had never been worthy of sharing the same city with them.
Their deaths were nothing to regret.
What truly surprised people was that a bull of excommunication written in the Pope’s own hand had been sent from the Holy City to Carolingia.
The one being excommunicated was none other than the meritorious figure of this purge—the then-director of the Heresy Inquisition Bureau, Richard Normandy.
Although rumor had it that Richard was not favored by the old fox, he was after all the legitimate eldest son.
The script of a royal family member committing a mistake and the family coming to clean up the mess was common in every country.
People all thought that old Robert would spend a large sum of money to seek a general pardon for his son.
Yet the Carolingian court made no response at all.
This meant that the bull of excommunication would take effect in every country of the All-Saints Faith.
It also meant that Richard Normandy would lose his religious status as well as the right of succession to his secular titles.
***
Claire woke up in the dormitory.
The room was pitch black.
It was already six in the afternoon.
She got out of bed and pulled open the curtains.
The autumn sky had already begun to be steeped in the colors of night.
Over these six days, no matter how much she ate or how much she slept, she could not dispel the sense of exhaustion in her body.
It was as if another existence inside her was constantly drawing nourishment from her at every moment.
This made her feel terrible.
What truly made her suffer was the knowledge that she had harmed Flora that night and had drunk her blood.
The current laws of the Northern Continent strictly forbade any vampire from drinking the fresh blood of a living person.
Once discovered, they would be sent to a sanatorium for lifelong imprisonment.
Fortunately, Liz, who had been responsible for the report, had neither revealed that she had drunk blood nor mentioned her bizarre appearance covered in black scales.
Yet Claire could not forgive herself.
That night she had deeply realized that she was already a bloodthirsty alien.
As long as she remained by Flora’s side she might harm her.
These past few days she had skipped all her classes solely to avoid meeting Flora.
Whenever the princess came looking for her she locked herself in her room and pretended no one was there.
Liz’s attitude also made her feel awkward.
Just as she avoided the princess, Liz seemed to be avoiding her as well.
She felt guilty toward Liz.
After the operation Liz had mentioned once that someone might have leaked information.
Claire understood that the ones she suspected were either herself or the princess.
Although it was Flora who had brought up the plan, the one who had truly leaked the intelligence to Anne was herself.
After the operation she had not even had the chance to properly talk with Liz.
The reception hall downstairs suddenly lit up.
The lights were brilliant, and they also illuminated the bright scarlet color in front of the main doors.
Thousands upon thousands of rose petals had been scattered in front of the reception hall, forming a welcoming red carpet.
Only then did the still-drowsy Claire remember that tonight was Flora’s birthday.
Anne had booked the entire reception hall to hold a birthday party for the princess.
The students drank fragrant champagne and tasted expensive ice-sea sweet shrimp.
The band played melodious tunes.
The cake had a full five layers.
It was said that fireworks would also be set off in the evening.
Looking at that lively scene, Claire only felt a slight ache in her heart.
She took a deep-red long coat from the clothes rack and put it on, stepped out of the dormitory, and walked straight toward the school gate.
The evening wind blew toward her face.
Cité University was situated halfway up the mountain.
In front of the school gate there was a mountain-circling sightseeing ding-dong car.
A miniature railway led straight to the mountaintop.
It was said that the viewing platform there was a sacred dating spot for student couples.
Tonight the station was desolate and empty.
The ding-dong car was quietly stopped at the platform.
Dim yellow light fell upon the empty carriage.
Claire discovered that the familiar figure with chestnut hair was sitting in the front seat.
She sat down beside Liz, yet left one seat between them.
Liz glanced at her.
A complex emotion flashed through her gaze—worry, reproach, and a trace of unspoken distance.
Then she shifted her gaze away and said nothing.
A heavy silence permeated the carriage.
Only their faint breathing interwove.
Claire cast her gaze out the window.
Layer upon layer of coniferous forest swayed in the wind, rising and falling like black waves.
Liz sat quietly, both hands folded upon her knees, staring forward as if sunk in thought.
The ding-dong car stopped at the end of the rails.
They had already arrived at the mountaintop.
Tonight the moonlight was hazy.
Only scattered streetlamps illuminated the stone steps.
Liz walked in front, her footsteps somewhat hurried.
Claire followed behind.
Several steps of distance separated the two of them.
“You do not need to follow me,” Liz said indifferently.
Claire stopped walking. “I only wanted to…”
“Wanted to what?” Liz turned her head.
There was an indescribable sorrow in her eyes.
Claire opened her mouth, yet nothing came out.
The two of them simply looked at each other like that.
Around them there was only the rustling sound of the night wind passing through the trees.
In the end it was Liz who first turned and continued walking upward.
When they climbed onto the viewing platform, the lights of the entire city spread out beneath their feet like scattered stars.
There were several long benches at the edge of the viewing platform.
Liz chose the one at the farthest end and sat down.
Claire hesitated for a moment, then sat at the other end of the same bench, leaving the space of one person between them.
Liz took a thermos from her backpack, unscrewed the lid, and drank a mouthful of hot tea.
Steam rose in the cold air, blurring her face.
“Is your body better?” Liz suddenly asked, her voice very light.
Claire nodded. “Much better.”
“That is good.” Liz drank another mouthful of tea, then placed the cup on the bench between them.
She did not finish her words, yet the meaning was already very clear.
Claire picked up the thermos and lightly drank a mouthful.
A warm current surged up in both her stomach and her heart at the same time.
“Do you not have any questions to ask me?” Claire finally broke the silence.
“What questions?” Liz glanced at Claire.
“For example, who I really am,” Claire paused for a moment, “or what exactly I am.”
Six days had passed.
Liz had not asked a single question about what had happened in the casino hall, as if that terrifying night had never appeared.
“I think you yourself do not know either, so there is no need to ask,” Liz said calmly.
“But there are certainly people who know more than we do. When we meet that person, everything will become clear. There is no need to discuss it now.”
“People who know more than we do?”
“Miriel told me in Kent that your file is specially protected by the bureau,” Liz turned her head and looked at Claire.
“You have never been an insignificant person.”
Claire did not know how to answer and remained silent for a good while. “Are you not afraid of me?”
“Afraid of you?” Liz gazed into Claire’s red pupils.
“An existence that can kill the Queen of Banshees… is probably a monster or something similar…”
“Do you think you are?”
“I do not know…” Claire laughed soundlessly.
“At the very least I could never be afraid of you. You will always be my Claire.”
Liz slowly turned her body and moved closer to Claire.
Her long chestnut hair drifted lightly in the wind.
Moonlight fell upon her face, outlining soft contours.
Suddenly a meteor streaked across the sky from bottom to top.
In the night sky it blossomed from a tiny point of light into a brilliant flower, illuminating both of their faces in an instant.
Fireworks continuously shot up toward the night sky from the foot of the mountain, like reverse-flying meteors.
After the blooming flowers, hundreds of streams of light fell from the air.
Claire and Liz had never seen anyone set off fireworks so extravagantly.
In the brief span of a few minutes the night sky had been transformed into a beautiful flower basket.
Claire turned her head.
Liz’s profile radiated a faint glow under the illumination of the fireworks.
“So beautiful…” Liz whispered softly.
After a moment of silence, the final enormous firework shell rose into the sky, as if a splendid flower blooming at the end of the heavens.
Those flowers formed words in the night sky:
“Flora, joyeux anniversaire!”
***
When the ding-dong car returned to the school it was already ten o’clock at night.
After saying goodbye to Liz, Claire hurried back to her own room before the dormitory doors were locked.
She took off the long coat and hung it on the back of the chair, then turned and walked into the shower room.
Cité University lived up to its reputation as an aristocratic institution.
The campus steam station provided every dormitory with uninterrupted hot water twenty-four hours a day.
Her cold body slowly stretched open in the hot water.
Claire felt as if she were a block of frozen butter gradually softening in the hot water.
After finishing her bath she simply wiped her hair and body with a towel, changed into a clean shirt, and pushed open the door of the shower room.
The room was completely dark; the lights had not been turned on.
Claire sat down on the lounge chair by the window and gazed at the campus scenery.
The banquet in the reception hall had already ended.
Those impoverished students working part-time and the school workers were cleaning up the rose petals and firework paper rolls that covered the ground.
Claire sat alone on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the moonlight.
Suddenly an extremely light sound came from behind her—the creak of the window frame being pushed open a crack, the rustle of fabric brushing against the window lattice, and a nearly inaudible sound of landing.
Claire did not turn her head, yet the corners of her lips had already risen slightly.
Those footsteps deliberately kept very light, one step after another, slowly approaching.
The person behind her clearly believed that her surprise attack was flawless and was holding her breath, little by little shortening the distance.
A pair of hands reached out from behind, intending to cover her eyes—
Claire suddenly stood up, grasped those slender wrists, gently pulled the person closer from behind, and drew her into an embrace.
“Naughty,” she said in a low voice.
The tone seemed to be reproach, yet the corners of her mouth rose uncontrollably, pressed against the ends of Flora’s hair, unable to be hidden.
That fragrance like tulips had already drifted in the moment the window sash was pushed open.
Twelve years had passed, yet Claire was still familiar with this scent down to her bones.
As long as Flora was nearby, she could always be the first to sense her.
This sensitivity seemed engraved into instinct and had never faded with the years.
Flora was embraced fully in her arms.
At first she stiffened slightly, then laughed lightly.
She did not struggle free and simply allowed herself to be held, only raising her face and looking at her with curved eyes.
Moonlight filtered in from behind her, enveloping that face in a dreamlike haze.
Soft golden long hair fell across her shoulders.
Several small hairpins were dotted among the strands, and at the ends of the hair hung tiny gemstone pendants that scattered points of flowing light with her movements.
Claire looked, and her heart suddenly softened.
“The dormitory doors are already closed,” she shifted her gaze, her voice growing a little lighter. “How did you get over here?”
Flora raised a hand and pointed toward the slanted window, a small trace of pride in her tone. “This cannot stop me—I climbed over from the roof.”
Claire’s brows furrowed slightly, then she turned back to look at her.
Twelve years earlier she had countless times seen that figure lightly leaping among the eaves of the summer palace, like an agile little deer, climbing through windows and coming and going freely.
“Fool,” she said, raising a hand and lightly flicking Flora’s forehead. “Too dangerous.”
“It hurts.” Flora covered her forehead and squatted down in response.
The movement was quite quick, yet those eyes peeked out from between her fingers and looked at Claire sparklingly, clearly without the slightest pain.
“Happy birthday!”
Flora, who had just been covering her head and pleading for mercy, suddenly straightened up and lightly looped her arms around Claire’s neck.
Claire was slightly stunned before realizing that today was not so much Flora’s birthday—rather, it was her own.
Flora arranged the porcelain plate properly and placed the cake upright on the table.
On the surface of the cream the words “Happy Birthday” had been written with chocolate sauce, stroke by stroke by her own hand.
She took out the candles, carefully inserted them one by one, and then lit them one after another.
Candlelight flickered, reflected on both of their faces.
“This is still the first time we have celebrated a birthday together,” Flora said softly, lowering her eyes to look at those dancing flames.
She did not continue speaking, only raised her eyes and looked toward Claire.
Claire met her gaze and suddenly did not know where to put her hands.
She subconsciously moved her fingers and finally only lightly rested them on the edge of the table.
“You prepared this?” she asked, her voice a little lower than usual.
“Who else could it be?” Flora smiled.
That smile was very light, yet it made the corners of her eyes curve slightly.
She stretched out a hand and turned the cake half a circle so that the line of words faced Claire directly.
“Want to try some? It is actually just a cake from the cafeteria. I spread the cream myself.”
“It looks very nice.”
After saying these two words Claire shifted her gaze away.
Candlelight cast soft shadows on the side of her face, making her expression unclear.
Flora also said nothing more.
She lowered her eyes to look at the writing on the cake, her fingertips unconsciously toying with the tassels at the edge of the tablecloth.
After a while of silence Claire raised a hand and stroked the top of her head.
Flora stiffened slightly, then slowly leaned over and rested her forehead against Claire’s shoulder.
She did not raise her head, her voice muffled.
“…Let’s cut the cake.”
Claire lowered her head to look at her and could only see the falling strands of hair and a small section of ear, faintly tinged red.
She answered with a sound and stretched out a hand to take the knife.
The candlelight burned quietly.
Although the two of them tasted a cake of ordinary flavor, their hearts were filled with happiness and warmth.
The autumn wind outside the window still blew gently, yet inside the room they seemed to be situated in a world that belonged only to each other, far from all the noise and turmoil.
At this moment they leaned tightly against each other, no longer worrying about the arrival of tomorrow.