Stepping out through the doors of the station, sunlight struck him full in the face, forcing his eyes into a squint. With a near-automatic gesture, Alphard adjusted his top hat over his brow and tightened his grip on his walking cane.
From a distance, he cut the picture of a flawless young gentleman, untouched by worry; but a closer look told a different story. Exhaustion had carved deep, violet shadows beneath his eyes, and his eyelids fought a heaviness he couldn't shake, the toll of a truly wretched night written plainly across his face.
The walk stretched across several districts before the city's architecture finally gave way to the unmistakable look of Bercy. It took no more than a glance at the familiar façades of the neighborhood for Alphard to feel a deep breath of relief settle into him — a shelter of calm he'd never once felt in any other corner of this world.
Reaching his house, an unusual sense of peace, even stronger than before, spread through his chest, wrapping him in a warmth he'd never imagined himself capable of feeling.
Stepping inside, he found the house empty, wrapped in a quiet stillness. Taking advantage of his family's absence, he climbed the stairs to his room, though the stifling heat of the air kept him from lying down to sleep.
Still, he walked slowly toward his bed, setting his top hat and cane down at its lower corner — the cane slipping loose and clattering to the floor a moment later.
Throwing himself down, he stretched out across the full width of the mattress, staring up at the ceiling, remembering with striking clarity the very first time he'd laid eyes on it.
Feels like this ceiling's practically become part of me at this point. Doesn't it?
Meanwhile, he pulled the card Charlotte had given him earlier from his pocket.
Weighing the facts over with careful attention, a sudden tide of bitterness swept through his thoughts. It took only a moment of distraction for the memory to drag him back to that grim day he'd first been thrown into this world, reopening a wound logic still hadn't managed to close.
Maybe if I agree to work with them, I'll find a way home. That's the goal — but I'm still not entirely sure it's the right move.
Sitting himself back up, he glanced around the room, a strange mix of melancholy and warmth settling over him.
Sunlight filtered through the window, bathing the room in a clarity that, for one brief moment, Alphard read as some kind of hopeful omen. But the illusion dissolved the instant Helena's face surfaced in his mind.
Almost immediately, his more calculating side took over, working through the next step: if Kenji was ever going to leave this world behind, then Alphard would have to do exactly the same.
Some time passed before exhaustion finally won out. Alphard sank into a deep, restorative sleep, a slumber so heavy that the passage of hours lost all meaning.
When he finally opened his eyes, daylight had been swallowed whole by night, leaving the room steeped in darkness, broken only by the faint glow of a crimson moon rising in the sky.
Lighting his gas lamp, it didn't take him long to pull on his coat, brushing it off before settling his top hat into place, adjusted just the way he liked it.
Feeling his way down the dark hallway, he reached the stairs. He descended with extreme care, measuring each step deliberately, careful not to let the wooden treads creak and give him away in the thick silence of the night.
Just as he neared the door, though, Helena — who was in the kitchen — caught sight of her brother sneaking down the stairs, clearly trying to avoid being noticed. Angry, she stopped him at once, her face set in an irritation she made no effort to hide.
"Alphard!"
Alphard turned slowly on his heel, only to find himself caught full in his sister's stare. There was nothing ordinary in her expression: she studied him with a bitter, wounded look, a devastating sadness wrestling against an anger so raw, so plainly written across her face, that there was no way to ignore it.
He drew a slow breath, feeling the cold air seeping through the front door fill his lungs with a sharp, glacial clarity.
"Helena, I was just heading to work — I've got the night shift tonight, so I have to go. Please don't be angry with me."
"That's all you ever think about. You're hiding something, aren't you? You promised you'd teach me your made-up language."
"I will — I'm just busy right now. Your brother's a grown man now, with responsibilities. And besides, the reason I didn't come home last night is because I ended up celebrating with Marcel — he happened to be nearby."
"And what are we, then? Didn't you think about me? About our uncle? You'd rather be with someone else than with me?"
A sharp pang of bitterness tightened in his chest, a grief that had nothing to do with blood, but with the sudden jolt of a memory rising up without warning.
Though Helena was closing in on seventeen, in that moment the rawness of her expression conjured the image of a small child, stirring in Kenji's mind the unshakable shadow of the younger sister he'd left behind in his own world.
Unable to stay unmoved by the frustration eating away at her, Alphard closed the distance in a few short steps and pulled her into a firm embrace. Pressing his lips close to her ear, he whispered that he'd never trade her — either of them — for anything in the entire universe, and that he loved them both with everything he had.
"I'm your brother. I'll never abandon you both. But once you start living through what I'm going through right now, you'll understand — and I'll be there for you when you do. All right? I have to go now. Tell Uncle Alexi I love him too."
Pulling away, he closed the door gently behind him, while his sister watched the sliver of his shadow beneath it slowly fade away.
As he walked on, the night's cloak deepened into a heavy crimson, bathing the streets in a bloodstained glow. Still, the warm, yellow flicker of the gas lamps managed to hold onto some fragile illusion of normalcy for Alphard, as if the city itself were trying to ignore the omen looming over it.
I guess this whole planet's grown used to that red moon by now. What would look normal to me — a plain white moon — would probably feel just as strange to them as this still feels to me. It's the one thing here I still can't get used to.
He wandered aimlessly for long stretches of time until, with a deliberate step, he turned into the mouth of a dark alley. The air there thickened instantly, heavy and suffocating, weighed down by an almost physical pressure.
The moment he crossed into the shadow, an icy jolt shot down his spine, starting at the base of his skull and spreading down his back until every nerve in him stood on high alert.
He stopped short, holding his breath before the massive structure rising in front of him. This was no simple building — it was a masterwork of stone and devotion, a cathedral of sharp spires clawing at the sky, its buttresses carved with painstaking, hairline precision.
The façade, adorned with reliefs of forgotten figures and dark stained glass that barely caught the light, stood imposing in the silence of the night, marking the exact spot where everything had first begun.
This is terrifying. I should be at home right now.
Despite the shiver running through him, Alphard didn't hesitate, forcing his steps to stay firm and resolute — though a visceral terror pressed down on his muscles like an invisible weight, slowing every stride against his own will.
The panic sank so deep into his joints that his breathing grew ragged, his heart pounding with a violent, threatening force.
Pushing open the massive entrance doors, Alphard stepped inside the cathedral. The darkness within devoured every corner without mercy, swallowing the columns and the towering vaults whole; only at the far end of the hall did a single great window resist, a shaft of crimson light spilling through it, staining the floor in a tragic, blood-red hue.