Clara's POV
I walked beside Ciel in silence, the kind that felt heavier than words. He carried Jason's body—limp, blood trailing in slow, terrible drops along the floor. Each step left a stain, like a breadcrumb trail of tragedy.
When we reached the room at the end of the hall, Ciel laid Jason gently on the bed. The sheets turned crimson beneath him, the red blooming like some cruel flower.
"Clara," Ciel called, his voice low, frayed, almost not his own. He sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders bowed, shadows hollowing his face. "You should go back to your room. I don't know if Lila is still around. It would be safer."
"No," I said instantly, shaking my head. "I'm not leaving. Not like this. I don't think it's right."
Ciel stood, closing the distance between us, his eyes finally meeting mine. They were stormy, broken, yet somehow steady. He placed his hands on my shoulders, his touch light but firm.
"It's fine, Clara. You should go back," he said softly, almost pleading. "I don't want something bad to happen to you too."
My throat tightened. I wanted to argue, to fight him, to say I'd stay no matter what. But the grief in his eyes stopped me. He was already carrying too much—I couldn't add my defiance to his pain.
So I lowered my head in silence.
"Auriel," Ciel said quietly, "take her back."
"Yes, Your Majesty," she replied, her voice gentle as she guided me forward.
I looked back one last time. The door was closing, but not before I caught a glimpse of Ciel's face—shattered, unguarded, the weight of loss crushing him.
The door shut. The sound echoed inside me.
I turned away, walking on, my chest aching with sorrow that pressed deeper with every step.
Ciel's POV
I crossed the room like a man walking through fog, every step leaden. Jason lay on the bed, pale under the smear of crimson, every breath he'd ever taken stolen from the room. I sank to my knees beside him.
"Jason…" The name tore out of me, raw and small. My hands closed around his cold fingers. They were so familiar—callused from a lifetime of work—so wrong in death.
He had been my steward, my blade, my counsel. My friend. My family. For years he had stood at my side; for years he had taken the blows meant for me. I had never imagined the day I would hold him like this.
Memories crashed through me—battle smoke of the Celestial War, laughter in the dark, nights when he steadied me while Serena stayed in the illusion. He had been constant. He had been home.
Tears fell hot and ignorant onto his skin. I shook, uselessly, as if shaking could scramble death back into mercy.
Then grief curdled into something harder. Heat braided through my blood. Anger rose like a fever.
My jaw locked. I leaned close until my breath ghosted his ear. "On my life," I whispered, each word a blade. "I will find her who did this. I will burn her until there is nothing left. Lila—"
The name tasted like ash.
"I will kill you."
Lucien's POV
"Lila." The name left me before my brain could catch up. I hadn't expected her—hadn't allowed myself to imagine this—yet there she stood, framed in the doorway like a dark little portrait.
She smirked, as if she'd been waiting for me to say it. "Miss me?" she purred.
A humorless laugh escaped me. I stepped forward until the space between us burned. "Well. It's good to see you," I said, scanning her like a man reading the damage on a blade. "You look… awful."
Her smile widened. "Jason roughed me up, yes. Surprise." She shrugged, as if the bruises on her were accessories. Then her voice dropped, eager and oddly bright. "He came to my cell earlier. Told me a cock-and-bull story—said he'd never worked for Ciel, said he was Asriel's Mirrored. I thought it was a ploy—trying to make me confess." She made a small, theatrical shudder. "But then he drank the Etherance. The vial was empty. He slumped like a puppet with its strings cut."
She leaned closer, eyes glittering. "I stabbed him again afterwards. Just to be sure."
My fists tightened. The room narrowed until only Lila and the smear of red remained.
She laughed, a soft, cruel sound. "I escaped with the directions he gave me. I thought it might be a trick. But…" She looked past me, toward Asriel, and something like awe softened her face. "You look just like him. So it's true." Her voice dropped to a whisper of triumph. "I really thought Jason had cracked."
Asriel stepped forward then, cool and composed, as if her confession were the prelude he'd been waiting for. "Excellent," he said, folding his hands. "Now that you're here, it's time to introduce you to the plan." His laugh filled the room—dry, confident, hungry.
Lila clapped once, delighted. "Perfect."