"Oh…"
Elara's fair face flushed a delicate pink as she opened her small mouth and let the drop of Angel Tears fall onto her tongue.
The liquid was sweet—soft as honey—and slid down her throat like cool rain after a long drought. Warmth bloomed through her body, spreading from her heart to the very tips of her fingers. The scarlet lines that ran along her pale skin began to dim, their heat fading at last.
"Huh…"
A faint sound escaped her lips—half sigh, half groan of relief.
Realizing what she'd done, Elara's eyes widened, and she quickly covered her mouth with her hand, embarrassed.
Luciel leaned forward, his sharp gaze following the crimson markings that traced her cheeks. The glow had dulled slightly, losing its unsettling shine.
As he suspected—Angel Tears couldn't completely remove the infection of the virtual ghost, but it could at least suppress it.
"How does it feel?" Luciel asked, though he already knew the answer.
