Two days after Desmond's death
The London sky burned crimson on the western horizon, as if set ablaze by the city's lingering hatred. Through the thick mist hanging low over the streets, the Milverton estate stood tall—graceful, yet cold—like a house still holding its breath, haunted by ghosts that refused to leave.
The sound of hooves and carriage wheels came to a halt before the grand doors bearing the Milverton crest. Hugo Ravensword stepped down in haste, his black coat fluttering in the wind. His expression was tense, the kind of unease that even a faint smile couldn't hide.
He knocked twice. The heavy clang of the metal echoed—like a door untouched for years.
The door creaked open slowly. A pale-faced maid greeted him with practiced courtesy.
"Good evening, Lord Ravensword. The young master is expecting you."
Hugo swallowed hard. "He's really alive…?" he whispered under his breath as he stepped inside, eyes scanning the grand yet eerily silent interior. No voices. No music. Only the sound of his own heartbeat echoed in the vast hall.
In the parlor, a man stood with his back turned. Jet-black hair, tall stature, broad shoulders. He stared silently out the tall windows overlooking the garden.
"…Charles?" Hugo called softly, as if a louder voice might disturb the spirits.
The man turned. His eyes—once full of innocent light—were now dark, hollow, and empty. But a faint smile touched his lips.
"It's been a long time, Hugo."
Hugo froze. His lips trembled, voice cracking. "You're… you're really alive… My God. How? How did you survive all that? Where have you been? Why didn't you come find me?"
Charles didn't answer right away. He walked calmly to the sofa and sat, fingers idly toying with a cup of cold tea on the table.
"Even if I told you," he said flatly, "you'd never truly understand."
"Don't play riddles with me, Charles!" Hugo snapped, his eyes reddening. "I searched for you for years! After the Milverton family was slaughtered, I… I thought you were—"
"—dead?" Charles cut in calmly. "Perhaps I did die that day, Hugo. But someone brought this body back. Not with the grace of God… but with a demon's kiss."
Hugo took a step back. "What are you saying…?"
Suddenly, the soft sound of footsteps echoed in the room. Vespera entered, clad in a graceful black gown, carrying a tray of dinner.
"Lord Hugo," she said gently, setting the tray down, "before your questions are answered… would you kindly brace yourself?"
Hugo looked at her, bewildered. "W-Wait… weren't you the maid at the door?"
Vespera smiled—a chilling smile filled with secrets. Black smoke began to rise from her body, swirling in the air like whispered curses from beyond. Hugo staggered back as her form flickered and changed, reshaping into—
"…W-What is this…?!"
Before him now stood a man—with a face identical to Hugo's own. The same gestures. The same eyes. Even the nervous smile he always wore… mimicked to perfection.
"What are you doing!? Who the hell are you!? What is your connection to Charles?!" Hugo shouted, sweat streaming down his temple.
Charles rose from the sofa, walking slowly toward him. He stared at Vespera's transformed face—the mirrored version of his old friend.
"I'm not the Charles you once knew, Hugo," he whispered. "I didn't come back for peace. I came back… for vengeance."
"Vengeance…?" Hugo echoed, his voice trembling. "Your return alone is suspicious… but what are you planning to do?"
"I'll burn out the roots of this rotten nobility," Charles said, his eyes flashing red for a moment. "I'll tear off every mask… and show the world what they really are."
Hugo stood in silence, his emotions churning—fear, sorrow, confusion, and awe colliding inside him. But deep in his heart… he knew. The Charles he once knew had long since been buried. What stood before him now was…
"…A creature that used to be my friend," Hugo muttered.
Charles gazed at him.
"But if it's for the truth… for those they've slaughtered…" Hugo said firmly, "Then I'll stand by your side, Charlie. I'll help you—as the childhood friend who never forgot you."
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