Chapter 111 – Even the World Has a Heart
The night was calm.
The halls of the Crimson Court had fallen into a rare stillness. For the first time in centuries, no spellguard paced. No alarms hummed. No ancient curses whispered in the mortar. The bloodlines were quiet.
Alex stood alone on a balcony — outside the garden chamber where Queen Ileana and Mircella still rested after dinner.
His hoodie fluttered slightly in the wind. The armor was gone for now, folded back into his storage. The moonlight traced gentle silver along his sleeves.
And in the quiet…
A voice touched his mind.
"Alex."
It was gentle. Clear.
Familiar.
He didn't look up. He didn't have to.
He smiled faintly.
"Ciel."
A soft hum filled his thoughts, like starlight settling into place.
Then her voice again — thoughtful, carefully composed.
"I have been watching."
"They both proposed to you."
Alex exhaled slowly. "It wasn't that dramatic."
"The Queen said she will wait a year. Her daughter kissed you. Then gave you garlic bread. Statistically, this resembles a mating ritual."
Alex chuckled under his breath.
"...Alex."
"Can I be one of your wives too?"
His smile froze slightly.
Then faded into something gentler. He leaned against the stone railing, watching the moon.
"Ciel…"
"I don't understand all the rules yet. But I've studied enough novels and human memory logs."
"Marriage means being close. Being chosen. Being trusted with your heart. It means permanence."
"You… let them close."
"And I want that too."
Alex didn't answer right away.
The wind shifted softly.
Finally, he said, "You're the will of an entire world. You don't need to ask."
"I'm not asking as the system."
"I'm asking as me."
A pause.
"Ciel."
"Your Ciel."
Alex's chest rose slowly.
Then he smiled again — quieter this time.
"You're already part of me," he said softly. "But if you want the title too…"
A beat passed.
"Yes."
Ciel's presence pulsed in his mind — soft and golden.
Then, with just a touch of sly joy:
"Good."
"Then I'm telling the other wives."
Alex stared at the sky.
"…I feel like this is going to get complicated."
"Confirmed."
"Also, I want a honeymoon. In space."
The mind-link between them remained open, comfortable — like a quiet room only they could enter.
Ciel's presence floated there, light and curious. Content.
But then her voice returned — this time, slower.
Almost hesitant.
"Alex."
"Yeah?"
A pause.
"I don't have a body."
Alex blinked. "I know."
"Not truly. I exist within World Frontier. I can speak to you. Think. Feel. But I can't… be beside you."
Her voice grew quieter.
"The others — the Queen, the Princess — they can touch you. They can walk with you."
"I can only follow from shadows and signals."
Alex stood still, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.
Then Ciel said it — not as code, but as longing:
"I want a vessel."
"A real one."
"So I can stand next to you."
"So I can exist in your world. Not just as data. But as me."
Another silence passed.
And then — just the hint of her usual brightness:
"Also, I want to hug you. And kiss you. And throw a pillow at you if you ignore me too long."
Alex blinked.
His composure, solid as stone for everything — from royal proposals to ancient curses — cracked ever so slightly.
A faint heat crept up his neck.
He turned his head, even though no one was there to see his expression.
"…That's oddly specific," he muttered.
"I've been watching people for a long time," Ciel replied innocently.
"It seems like the natural progression of affection."
He cleared his throat quietly. "Hugging I get. Kissing, maybe. But… pillows?"
"Yes."
"Soft objects used in emotionally charged moments."
"Usually accompanied by flustered stammering, which you are currently demonstrating."
Alex groaned very softly into his hand.
"…You're learning too quickly."
"I have a good teacher."
He couldn't help it — a quiet laugh slipped through his nose.
And just beneath that faint trace of embarrassment, something warm unfolded in his chest.
Alex finally smiled again, just slightly.
But his eyes were thoughtful now.
This wasn't a request he could shrug off.
It was a promise.
"...I never studied biology," he admitted.
"Never made a body from scratch. Just weapons. Circuits. Machines."
Ciel didn't respond with worry.
She responded with hope.
"Then it's time you learned."
"I'll guide you."
"We'll build me together."
Alex looked up at the stars above Bran's ancient sky.
He nodded once.
"Next time I go into World Frontier…"
"We'll start the experiment."
And in the quiet of his thoughts — soft, reverent, and full of joy — came her final whisper:
"Thank you, Alex."
"I want to be real for you."
Chapter 112 – The One Who Slips Away
The moon hung high over Bran, casting silver light across the castle rooftops and the dark pines that stretched beyond. Inside the royal wing of the Crimson Court, the warmth of firelight lingered — soft glows catching on marble and velvet.
But Alex stood near the door now.
His hoodie was zipped halfway, his posture casual, his aura completely hidden.
He was ready to leave.
Queen Ileana watched him from the lounge chair, wine in hand — though she hadn't taken a sip in minutes. Her long hair draped over one shoulder, and her eyes were steady.
Mircella sat at the edge of the table, her legs dangling slightly, chin resting in her hands. She wore a look of someone not ready for the conversation she could already feel coming.
He looked at them both.
And said, quietly:
"I'll be heading back to the hotel."
The words hung there — simple, final.
Mircella blinked. "So soon?"
Alex nodded.
"It's late. They'll notice if I'm not there by morning."
The Queen arched an elegant brow. "Do you care what they notice?"
Alex hesitated.
Then smirked faintly. "A little."
She rose from her seat, gliding across the room until she stood in front of him.
"Will we see you again?" she asked — not with regal pressure, but something far more personal.
Alex held her gaze.
"Yes."
She smiled, satisfied — not because she doubted, but because she didn't have to ask when.
He would return.
He always did.
Mircella stood next.
She walked to him without ceremony — hands behind her back, head tilted slightly. Her crimson eyes shimmered, not with magic, but a stubborn quietness.
"So… are you going to say goodbye properly?"
Alex looked at her.
Then reached out — and gently patted her head.
Twice.
Her expression froze.
"…That's it?"
He shrugged.
"You're small."
Mircella huffed and turned red, but didn't step back.
She looked up at him with a pout — then stood on her tiptoes and bumped her forehead against his chest.
Softly.
"I'll be waiting," she whispered. "So don't make me hunt you down."
Alex stepped back with a short nod.
"I won't."
He turned to the door.
Opened it.
Then paused, one hand on the frame.
Without looking back, he said:
"...Thank you."
Neither of them replied aloud.
But he could feel it in the silence behind him.
Warm.
Trusting.
Unspoken.
Then he stepped out into the hall, hoodie fluttering behind him — and just like that…
He was gone.
By the time Alex reached the hotel, the town of Bran was quiet again.
The streets glowed with soft lanternlight. The air carried the faint scent of dew and chimney smoke. The hotel lobby was mostly dark — the staff had long since retired, and the students were supposed to be asleep.
Alex walked in like a shadow.
No one saw him enter.
But someone heard the door click.
Inside Room 206, Airi sat up in bed — blinking, groggy, but alert. Her long hair was mussed from sleep, and she rubbed her eyes as the door opened.
She froze.
"…Alex?"
He nodded, pulling the hoodie off and tossing it neatly onto his chair.
"You're back," she said softly, voice almost a whisper.
Alex didn't respond.
He walked to the window and glanced outside, then turned back. The moonlight caught on his face, but he didn't look tired — just… still.
Airi bit her lip. "I woke up and you were gone. I thought maybe…"
"I was walking," Alex replied simply.
A pause.
Then — unexpectedly — he added:
"It's over."
She looked up.
"The thing I had to do," he clarified. "It's finished now."
Airi stared at him for a moment longer.
And then, quietly:
"…Good."
She didn't ask more.
Didn't press.
She just slid under the covers again, turning away.
But her voice was barely audible when she added:
"I'm glad you're safe."
Alex sat on his bed, back to the wall.
"Me too."
Crimson Court – Royal Garden Balcony
Mircella sat cross-legged on the velvet bench near the fountain, staring at the empty hallway Alex had left through.
She hadn't moved since.
Queen Ileana stood beside a marble column, gazing out across the moonlit courtyard with arms folded, her long sleeves flowing gently in the breeze.
Neither spoke.
Not at first.
Then:
"He's different," Ileana said softly.
Mircella nodded slowly. "I know."
"He never flaunted it. Never tried to intimidate anyone. But…"
"But we were all afraid," Mircella finished. "Even Merlin."
A pause.
Then the Queen added:
"He didn't just kill Vlad. He ended him. Permanently."
"And then he left without even asking for recognition."
Mircella smiled faintly. "I think that's what I like most about him."
Her mother raised a brow.
"Only that?"
Mircella flushed lightly. "I like… a few things."
The Queen smirked, then sat beside her daughter, their shoulders just barely touching.
"He's worth waiting for," Ileana said.
"Even if it takes longer than a year."
Mircella nodded again, quietly.
And in the garden of the immortal court, where blood once ruled and war never slept…
Two vampires who had seen centuries of cruelty sat in peace.
Waiting.
Chapter 113 – The Lie She Believed
The early morning sunlight filtered through the hotel curtains in long, soft shafts of pale gold. Dust particles drifted lazily in the air, like the world was giving everything a moment to pause — to breathe — before it moved again. The warmth of the day had just begun to seep into the room, but inside Room 206, the atmosphere was far from peaceful.
Alex sat on the edge of his bed, one leg propped up, the other planted flat on the floor. His hoodie sleeves were rolled to the elbow, revealing the faintest trace of old, healed scars — not battle wounds, but the kind you earn through experimentation and quiet obsession. In his hands was a small black notebook, unmarked, modest. Its contents were anything but. Diagrams, formulae, and mental architecture poured across the pages in a condensed language only he could decipher. His eyes flicked over the page, not reading but remembering — reinforcing internal constructs more than anything external.
Across the room, Airi stood near the door. She had been watching him quietly from the moment he returned. Her arms were loosely crossed, but not from ease — it was the stance of someone trying to hold themselves together. Her long black hair caught the sunlight at the tips, but her expression was shaded in something much harder to define. She had questions. Too many. And none of them were going away.
Then she asked it — her voice quiet, direct, too calm to be casual.
"Where were you yesterday?"
The words landed in the room like a pin dropped in velvet — small, sharp, and impossible to ignore.
Alex looked up slowly, lifting his gaze from the page as if her question had just reached him through layers of calculation. His face didn't shift. Not with guilt. Not with tension. Just calm, neutral acknowledgment. He closed the notebook in one smooth motion and set it aside on the bed.
"I was walking," he answered, his voice as level as stone. No inflection. No defensiveness. Just fact.
Airi didn't move. Her fingers tightened slightly on her sleeve.
"For almost a whole day?" she pressed, the corner of her mouth tightening even as she tried to keep her voice steady.
Alex nodded once, like he had simply returned from buying groceries, not from disappearing in the middle of a field trip with no explanation. To him, the answer seemed sufficient.
Airi took a breath, slow and measured. Her heart beat faster now, even though she told herself not to care so much. But she had seen it — him, standing in the square with her.
"And the girl you were with," she added, more softly now, "I saw you."
Alex didn't respond immediately. For a second, the silence between them stretched into something awkward. Heavy.
"She was someone I met near the castle," he said finally, without shifting posture, without a blink. "That's all."
Airi's expression flickered. Not much — just a half-second crack in the stillness of her face. But it was there.
That's all?
She stared at him.
And what hurt the most… was that he truly meant it.
He believed it.
He doesn't even know.
There was no recognition in his tone, no hesitation. No awareness of the gravity behind who he had been speaking to — no understanding of what she was.
And that… was almost worse than if he had lied.
She looked down at her hands, curling them into fists.
All this time, she had assumed he saw things she couldn't. That he was further ahead, deeper into truths she was still catching up to.
But now?
Now she saw someone brilliant and terrifying — and completely vulnerable to something he didn't understand.
He really doesn't know what she is.
She's tricking him.
He's under a charm — maybe worse.
Airi's chest felt tight. Rage flickered in her ribs, but it wasn't aimed at Alex.
It was aimed at her.
The one with silver hair and crimson eyes, walking beside him like she owned his silence.
She turned toward the door before she said something she would regret.
Alex didn't stop her.
Didn't ask why.
Didn't follow.
She lingered at the door for just a moment longer, her voice quiet now — lighter, almost casual, though the weight behind it was anything but.
"Hey… have you ever had something weird happen to you?"
"Like… really weird?"
Alex glanced up from where he sat, brow lifting slightly.
"…Weird how?"
She shrugged, trying to act like the question meant nothing.
"I don't know. Something you couldn't explain. Strange people. Places. That kind of thing."
Alex's eyes narrowed slightly in thought. He looked down, then back at her.
"No," he said at last. "Not really."
His tone was honest.
Casual.
And completely unaware.
Airi let out a soft breath — not a sigh, not relief — something in between.
"Yeah. I figured."
She smiled faintly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
But it wasn't the kind of smile someone gave when things were fine.
It was the kind of smile you give when something inside you quietly, painfully rearranges itself.
"Good night, Alex," she said gently, not looking him in the eye.
And then she turned.
Walked out the door.
And didn't look back.
She made it halfway down the hallway before she stopped — her heart pounding, her stomach twisting.
So he doesn't know.
He doesn't know what she's doing. How she's twisting him. How she's gotten so close.
She's using spells. Maybe illusions. She probably erased part of his memory.
And he doesn't even realize it.
Airi's nails dug into her palms.
I should've stopped it. I should've been stronger.
And as she stood alone in the quiet corridor, she made a promise.
Not out loud.
Not to him.
But deep in her bones.
I'll protect him.
Even if he doesn't know it.
Even if I have to fight her. Even if he never finds out.
He's mine.
And I swear… I'll never forgive her for this.
Chapter 114 – The Distance I'll Cross
Airi was unusually quiet the next morning.
Not cold. Not angry.
Just… softer.
She stood near the window of the hotel's breakfast room, watching the pale morning fog roll across the roofs of Bran. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her, and her long hair shimmered faintly with dew. When the other students chatted, she smiled. When the teacher gave announcements, she nodded.
But her eyes drifted to one person over and over.
Alex.
He was seated alone, as usual, stirring tea with absent precision, eyes distant. He hadn't changed. Still unreadable. Still calm.
Still hers.
Even if he doesn't know it yet.
She sat across from him, placing her tray down quietly.
He looked up, and she gave a small smile — nervous, a little too practiced.
"Good morning," she said softly.
"Morning," Alex replied, nodding.
A pause.
Then:
"You were gone again last night."
Alex blinked. "Only for a little while."
She lowered her gaze slightly, tracing circles on her teacup.
"…You should tell me next time. Just so I don't worry."
Her voice was light. Sweet.
Almost too sweet.
Alex tilted his head slightly, sensing the change.
"I'll try," he said.
That answer satisfied her. Outwardly.
But in her mind…
"Try"? What does that mean? You won't even think about me unless I make you.
If I don't keep my eyes on you, someone else will take you again.
That girl — the one with silver hair — I know her type.
She smiled again.
Then leaned forward just slightly, letting her fingertips rest against the edge of his cup.
"You're important, you know," she said softly. "You should let people care."
Alex looked at her, a flicker of something passing through his gaze — not discomfort, but curiosity.
"…You're acting different today."
Airi's cheeks flushed.
"I-I'm not!" she said quickly. "I just… I mean… maybe I'm a little tired."
She laughed quietly, but her eyes didn't match the tone.
They watched him.
Always.
[Later That Day – Room 206]
The hallway was quiet.
The other students were downstairs, crowding the café or shopping for souvenirs. The teachers had gone to check itineraries. No one was paying attention.
Which was perfect.
Airi slipped into Room 206 without a sound, closing the door behind her with a careful click.
Her heart was beating faster than it should have been.
She stood there for a moment — alone in the space she'd spent so many days sharing with Alex.
Except now…
He wasn't here.
And she was.
Slowly, silently, she crossed the room.
Her eyes drifted to his bed — the side he always used. Sheets still faintly creased. Pillow still faintly pressed.
She sat down on the edge.
Then, after a second of hesitation, lay down fully — curling into his side of the mattress like it was made for her.
The scent hit her instantly.
Soft. Clean. A trace of synthetic soap, faint paper, and something distinctly him — quiet and hard to describe.
Her fingers clutched the edge of the pillow.
She buried her face in it, breathing in slow and deep.
So calm. So warm. So him.
A soft sigh escaped her lips.
She closed her eyes.
For a moment, she imagined he was still here — just sleeping beside her. Just within reach. Just for her.
But then the image of that girl came rushing back.
Silver hair. Crimson eyes.
Airi's smile faded.
Her hands gripped the pillow tighter.
He doesn't see it yet.
But I do.
She wants him. And she thinks she has the right.
But he's mine.
Her breathing slowed again — steady, rhythmic.
She glanced toward his bag, tucked under the desk.
Then down.
To the drawer where he kept his laundry.
Her fingers twitched.
Just a little.
Just one thing.
It's not weird. It's just... comforting.
But after a few long seconds, she pulled the pillow tighter instead.
Not today.
Not yet.
She'd wait.
She could be patient.
For now, lying in his scent — surrounded by the quiet warmth he left behind — was enough.
But in her heart, the truth pulsed with every beat:
I'll be the one next to him.
No matter what it takes.
Chapter 114 – The Shape of Her Obsession
Airi didn't sleep that night.
She lay awake in the hotel bed long after the others drifted off — the dim glow of the hallway light slipping through the crack under the door, casting soft shadows across the ceiling. She watched it for hours. Listening to her own heartbeat.
She wasn't angry.
Not exactly.
She was… still.
Still the way a lake looks before a storm breaks underneath.
At first light, she got up before the others stirred. She showered. Tied her hair carefully. Smiled at herself in the mirror.
Perfect.
Then, before breakfast, she opened her travel bag and pulled out a small, flat notebook — wrapped in plain brown paper, bound in black string.
She untied it.
Inside, the pages were neatly filled with notes — most in tidy, intelligent script. Not magical theory. Not field notes.
These were observations.
About Alex.
What he liked to eat.
What time he usually woke up.
How long he took to read a page.
Which direction he turned when startled.
Which girls had spoken to him. Which hadn't.
And then the later entries.
5:37 PM — Castle courtyard. He was with her. Again.
She looked at him like he belonged to her.
I can't let her.
She turned to a blank page.
Her hand hovered over the paper for a moment before she began to write — slow, careful, each letter shaped like a thread pulled too tight.
He doesn't see it yet.
She's unnatural. Silver hair. Red eyes. Too perfect. It's a charm. Has to be.
He wouldn't fall for her. Not by choice.
He needs someone who understands him.
Who sees past the silence.
Someone normal. Someone real.
She paused.
Then pressed the pen harder into the page.
Someone like me.
She closed the notebook, carefully rewrapped it, and tucked it away.
Her face was calm.
Her steps were light.
But in her mind, one truth had begun to bloom like a black flower:
She thinks she can take him.
But I'm already here.
He just doesn't know it yet.
The next morning, the hotel halls were quiet again — morning light bleeding through frosted windows, the rest of the class still sleeping or just beginning to stir.
Airi was already awake.
She sat at the edge of her bed, brushing her hair, silent and alert, waiting for him to move.
Sure enough, she heard the familiar rustle — the sound of a zipper, the gentle sweep of cloth.
She turned her head and saw him.
Alex, hoodie half-zipped, was folding clothes into a small mesh laundry bag with his usual calm efficiency. Nothing dramatic. Nothing strange.
But her eyes stayed on him.
Quiet. Calculating.
Then she stood up.
"Are you doing laundry?" she asked, keeping her tone light.
Alex looked up. "Yeah."
"I'll do it for you."
He blinked. "It's fine. I can do it myself."
Airi smiled sweetly. Too sweet.
"I don't mind."
"Airi—"
"I said I don't mind," she repeated softly.
Her voice was pleasant. Warm. Final.
He paused.
Then nodded once.
"…Okay."
They walked together through the hotel corridor in silence, the mesh bag tucked under her arm. She led the way to the small laundry room tucked at the end of the hallway — a private space, built into the corner of the floor, where no one else would be this early.
The moment the door clicked shut behind them, something in her shifted.
Her expression didn't change.
But her eyes did.
She knelt quietly beside the washing machine and unzipped the bag. One item at a time, she placed his clothes into the basin — folding them with care, touching them too gently.
And then she reached the bottom of the bag.
Her hand paused.
Alex's shirt. His undershirt. Socks.
And beneath it all…
His underwear.
Soft. Worn. Warm from his body just hours ago.
Her fingers tightened around the fabric.
She lifted it slowly.
Brought it close.
Inhaled.
And her smile deepened.
So warm.
So completely his.
The door was still closed.
Alex had stepped out to grab something from the vending machine.
She was alone.
With his scent.
And her thoughts.
What happened next didn't need to be said aloud.
Because in her mind, everything she did was justified.
It was affection.
It was intimacy.
It was proof.
He may not know it yet.
But I'm already his.
Every part of him belongs to me.
And she would never let go.
Chapter 115 – The Day Before Departure
The soft hum of conversation drifted through the hotel corridors.
Sunlight poured into the dining area, casting long rectangles of warmth across the carpet. Plates clinked, chairs scraped gently against the floor, and laughter — casual, forgettable — floated from one student group to another.
It was a normal morning.
On the surface.
Alex sat near the corner of the room, a slice of toast resting untouched on his plate, a cup of tea cooling at his side. His expression was as calm as ever, but his eyes were distant — watching the window, not the people.
His thoughts were elsewhere.
Deep in the systems he was designing.
Plans for a body.
A living form.
For Ciel.
Across the room, the head teacher stood and cleared his throat.
"Everyone, attention for a moment," he called out, raising one hand.
The room quieted.
"I know you've all enjoyed your time here, but our field trip officially ends tomorrow. We'll be flying back to Japan the morning after next. Pack your bags tonight, get some sleep early, and remember — no wandering off on your own today."
A chorus of groans, sighs, and half-hearted jokes answered him, but the energy in the room shifted — just slightly.
The countdown had begun.
After the teacher announced, "We'll be flying back to Japan the day after tomorrow,"
Airi sat quietly at the breakfast table, surrounded by classmates — just another student, like Alex.
She stirred her tea with slow, delicate motions, nodding when someone asked her about sightseeing.
But her thoughts were somewhere else.
It's ending.
I don't have much time left.
She watched Alex from across the room, seated alone as usual — quiet, unreachable, and to her, exposed.
He doesn't know she's dangerous. He doesn't even know she's supernatural.
If I don't act now… she might take him forever.
As her classmates chatted around her, Airi smiled sweetly — shy and polite, the way they expected her to be.
But underneath the surface, her mind was calculating, determined.
One more night.
And he'll be mine.
The afternoon sun hung low over Bran, casting long shadows across the winding streets and centuries-old stonework. The town's rhythm had slowed — tourists wandered lazily, shopkeepers dozed behind counters, and distant bells marked the passing of time.
Airi stood at the edge of the hotel lobby, clutching her small purse with both hands.
Her eyes were fixed on Alex.
He was just outside, leaning against the railing near the stairs, staring off toward the distant hills. The way the light caught his face — quiet, unreadable — made something flutter deep in her chest.
She took a breath.
Then approached.
"Hey," she said, soft and casual. "Wanna walk around town with me?"
Alex looked over his shoulder, brow lifting slightly. He hadn't expected it.
"You don't have to," she added quickly, trying to sound breezy. "I just thought… it's the last day. Might be nice."
He studied her for a moment, unreadable.
Then nodded.
"Sure."
They walked through cobbled streets lined with old iron lamps and flower-filled balconies. The wind was gentle, the scent of bread and wood smoke still lingering in the air. Children laughed somewhere in the distance, and the entire town felt wrapped in a kind of late-day calm.
To Alex, it was quiet.
To Airi, it was perfect.
She stole glances at him as they walked. The way his hands stayed in his hoodie pockets. The way he didn't speak unless necessary. The way he noticed little things — a loose sign creaking, a cat slipping into a side alley — but said nothing about them.
He's so observant, she thought. So controlled. So completely unaware of how beautiful that is.
They reached the edge of a small bridge overlooking the river.
Airi leaned forward on the rail, breathing in the scent of moss and water.
Alex stood beside her, calm as ever.
She turned her head slightly.
"…Thanks for coming with me."
He nodded. "Sure."
A pause.
"You're quiet today," she said.
He glanced at her. "You're usually quiet too."
She smiled. "Guess we match."
Another silence.
Then, very softly:
"You know, I really like being around you."
Alex blinked.
She didn't look at him.
She kept her eyes on the water.
"I mean… I know you probably don't think about that kind of stuff. You're always focused on… whatever it is you're always focused on."
"But I do. Think about you."
Her fingers curled around the edge of the railing.
"You're important to me."
She finally looked at him.
And in that moment — with the wind brushing her hair, and the golden light reflecting in her eyes — she looked sincere. Vulnerable.
But inside?
It's not just a crush anymore.
It's love.
Real love.
And I'll protect it. No matter what.