Archive of Our Own

“He that has eyes to see and ears to hear may convince himself that no mortal can keep a secret. If his lips are silent, he chatters with his fingertips; betrayal oozes out of him at every pore.”

-Sigmund Freud

Someone’s dead, but it wasn’t Vergil’s fault.

It’s Spring. It should’ve been the season of rebirth. It should’ve been a divine moment to be cherished, when the embroidery of colourful plants and calming breeze comes to life again. Everything blooms after enduring from winter for so long. A new beginning has come.

It was meant to be beautiful.

Everyone who strives after gain in the perishable world will necessarily come to regret it, at the time of separation and the moment of non-being.

The line from The Epistle of Forgiveness sums everything he had gained from his pursuit of power and it craved agonizingly in his heart. Weeks after learning and contemplating what it means to forgive himself, Vergil finished his reading of the eschatological literature book and now it’s safely stored in his private bookshelf in his bedroom. It relieves him how easy to let go of his nightmares and it gives him a better sleep without the fear of any illusion anymore.

I’m intrigued by what a book and a little miracle can do to a sinner like me.

It’s hard for him to think about books and miracles without thinking about Lyra.

Like a carousel, the thought about the witty librarian spins around Vergil’s head and that annoys him in the most unique way. He should’ve hated it, for that makes him oftenly distracted. If his head was a mind palace, Lyra would be the random variable that always pops out from nowhere in every thought that Vergil tried to focus on.

Yet he chooses to be here now—sitting on his usual corner at The Literarium and reading Lyra’s another recommendation; Beowulf. That reminds him of the demon he once fought years ago with the same name. Such a disgrace for this masterpiece became the name of a filthy demon , he thinks. There’s a gleeful sensation every time he reads the passages, feeling his inner child deep down inside him exclaiming in victory.

The hybrid glances at the woman who sits across him. Vergil has recommended Lyra to read The Turn of The Screw , since she’s fond of horror and mystery. He marginally surprises that there’s still people who haven't read this illustrious work of Henry James, even the bookish Lyra. The librarian’s eyes scan through the page seriously, examining every word. She has been quiet since 20 minutes ago without moving or even glancing at anything.

This view isn’t too bad, Vergil quietly grins.

He turns his focus back at his reading.

Beowulf is the oldest and longest epic poem with more than 3000 lines long, written by an anonymous in Old English. Nobody knows for certain when the poem was first composed, but some scholars have suggested that the manuscript was made in the early 11 th century, which makes the manuscript approximately 1000 years old. It exploits the tale of Beowulf and his battles with a monster and a dragon which was guarding a hoard of treasure. Basically a poem of a hero who seeks for glory, Lyra said to him. That confuses him since Vergil doesn’t want to seek any glory at all, yet the librarian picked the book for him.

“I once defeated a demon named Beowulf,” Vergil says. “It was too easy.”

Lyra nods slowly without breaking her gaze from the book, “When?”

“Years ago, when I raised Temen-ni-gru. It was one of the demons that guarded the tower.”

“Uh-uh…” Lyra nods again. “Was the demon… look heroic like the fictional Beowulf?”

“Not at all. Too noisy. But I acquired a strong Devil Arm from its corpse. It wasn’t in my possession again since I jumped to the Underworld.”

After a moment of awkward silence, Lyra mutters, “Oh, sad.”

Vergil holds himself to not rip off the book that steals the focus of his dear friend by bringing his cup to the receptionist table to refill his coffee. At the end of winter, Mr Steiner gave a new instruction for the guest to refill their own cup at the receptionist table. W e don’t want to intrude the guests when they read. Privacy matters , Lyra said. Though Vergil can’t comprehend why Mr Steiner didn’t give that policy since the first time he decided to serve free coffee. He nods to Nate, who gives him a friendly wave behind the table as he speaks on his phone. Vergil doesn’t have many interactions with him, but he tolerates Nate’s existence since the young man never gets Vergil on his nerves.

When Vergil turns his back after get his refill, he almost bumps into two women who just entered the library.

“Sorry!” a woman in floral dress cheerfully apologises to him without giving Vergil a chance to reply. The other one who wears white dress and looks fragile smiles at him as an apology. They immediately join a blonde woman who sits at the Fiction reading section. They greet and hug each other like old friends, then start chattering. The hybrid rolls his eyes at that sight and walk to his corner, only to find that Lyra still fixates on her book.

I’m literally going to rip off that damn book.

“These people…” she murmurs suddenly.

“?”

“… are idiot.”

“Sorry?”

“Why are they always following and calling the ghost around?” Lyra complains. “Like, I don’t get why people shout ‘Hello?’ every time they see something.”

“Curiosity can be infuriating sometimes.” Vergil silently grins while opening the pages Beowulf again. He peeks over his book to see Lyra’s reaction—she glares at his sarcasm of her own habit of curiosity.

They continue to read in peace. The doorbell rings, a sign that there’s another guest entering the library. When Vergil hears giggles and babbles from the women at Fiction, he knows that the new guest is their friend. Their steps are a little bit too loud for his enhanced ears, but thankfully it’s soon over as the women go to take their seats and lower their voices.

Once again, all is well, at least for the next five minutes.

Because now Vergil hears the coughing sound from the Fiction section.

The sound is getting worse until Vergil has to look up to see who interferes with his seclusion. It’s the same floral-dressed woman who apologized to him earlier. The woman excuses herself to the toilet. Even with Vergil’s enhanced senses, he can hear the cough turn into vomit.

“You might want to ask your customer if she’s alright.” Vergil grumbles.

Lyra puts down her book and glances at the toilet, “I should never let Nate brew the coffee again.”

She leaves her chair as the woman comes out from the toilet, still coughing. Her breath is rougher while grabbing chest hard like she’s suffocating.

“Clarissa? What happened?” the blonde woman approaches her and tries to lead her back to her seat.

“I’ll get water.” Lyra hurries herself to the office after exchanging words with Nate to look after the woman, Clarissa.

“Is she alright?” Nate asks after spotting rashes on Clarissa’s skin.

“Of course she’s not!”

“Did she eat something weird before she came here?”

“Do I look like I know?!”

But Clarissa never made it to her seat. She collapses.

The scream gets louder as Vergil immediately stands up to approach the crowd. The woman’s friends are too scared to even touch their poor friend. Clarissa’s face turns blue as her body convulses greatly.

Cardiac arrest?

There’s the sound of a broken cup. “Clarissa!!”

Before everyone could even make any movement, the tremble stopped. The woman’s eyes dilate before it stops moving again.

Vergil can sense that life is leaving her body.

“OH GOD WHAT’S HAPPENING?”

“Someone help her please!”

“Call the cop! Now!”

The police?

But Vergil’s suspicion elapses as his eyes spots Lyra amidst the crowd, standing not too far in the middle of the tragedy, tears, screams and panic. She brings a glass of water on her right hand, yet something’s off.

The hybrid’s direct experience with human emotions might not be much, but he knows something about human emotion in hysteria. These people are in a panic situation, they’re all consumed with sadness and can’t even think clearly. All those emotions can affect a human's body. Panic can cause tremor to their body. Sadness can cause their tears to stream down on their faces. Disgust and disbelief can make them feel nauseous.

But the librarian stands still. The hysteria affects nothing to her. The water in the glass doesn’t move, not in the slightest.

For a human, her calmness in this situation is… disturbing.

Vergil tries to deny the chill in his spine when he brushes off Lyra’s emotionless reaction from his head.

The ambulance and police are already in the library. Nate flips the ‘Open’ sign to ‘Close’. The library is supposed to be a peaceful palace, but today it turns out to be a nightmare for him. He has been a librarian in The Literarium for years, but he never imagined that someday he’ll see a guest die in front of him. This is shocking, of course. They’re already sending Clarissa’s corpse to the morgue to be examined. The police are busy doing investigation and asking witnesses. This fuss makes Nate almost have a nervous breakdown.

“Hey, Lyra,” he calls Lyra who’s standing beside him. “What did the cop ask you?”

She shrugs, “Standard things like where was I when it happened, how was the victim’s state before she collapsed.”

“They asked me the same thing. Man, I feel like we’re in some kinda crime movies.”

“Ah, they also asked me who made the coffee.”

“What?”

“I said it was you. Didn’t they ask you about the coffee?”

“Not a word! God, they’ll suspect me!”

“Relax, Nate. We drank from the same coffee pot and we’re alive. If there’s someone to blame, it must be her friends.”

Nate lets out a relief sigh, “You’re right. Anyway, is it okay with your friend? He looks like he will kill the cop who interrogates him.”

“To be fair, he always looks like he wants to kill someone.”

“Yeah that. To be honest, your boyfriend scares the hell out of me.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“No shit!”

“What?”

“Dammit Lyra! Don’t you notice the way he looks at you all this time?!”

“Don’t talk out loud next to my ear, Nate. You’ll lower my IQ. And no, we’re friends. He already has a son.”

“So what? Did he tell you he has a wife?”

“… as far as I can remember, no.”

“Then you are more than legal to be his girlfriend!”

Lyra gives him a disbelief look, “Shame on you, Nathaniel Steiner. Your father took a long holiday and entrusted you with this library, yet you’re gossiping in the middle of someone’s death!”

“So what?! Honestly, I have a good feeling about this. Imagine this case spread to the whole city, it will attract more guests to come! And don’t try to change the subject!”

It’s no use for Lyra to reply to Nate's babble. She rolls her eyes in boredom, leaning herself on the wall. A smile curves on her lips when she sees Vergil’s interrogation is done as the hybrid approaches her. She can tell he’s in his cranky mood—the crease on his forehead crumples and he looks like he’s ready to use his sword anytime to stab anyone.

“Bad day, isn’t it?” Lyra greets him.

“You bet it is.”

“Did you tell them that you’re a devil hunter?” Lyra whispers after Nate excuses himself and gives Lyra a mischievous wink.

“Of course not,” the half-devil grunts. “I told them that I’m a delivery man. That’s the safest fake occupation for mercenaries, since any higher and crucial occupation requires too much further identification.”

Lyra bursts into laughter. “I pity that police. He seems scared to even look at you.”

“That I didn’t behead him should tell my effort to spare his life.”

“Well… that’d be more corpse to clean.”

Vergil has to admit that he’s confused with Lyra’s drastic mannerism. The woman who stands beside him is the Lyra he knows all this time, unlike the woman who stood still with soulless face an hour ago. Was she just shock to see a corpse in front of her? But she looks calm and even unbothered by the fact that there’s someone dead in the library. Since Vergil is a hybrid, he can easily sense people or demon’s anatomy and micro expression better than normal human. It almost impossible to fool him. Yet with Lyra, it’s useless.

From the tail of his eyes, he quietly observes her saying something about the police and the women.

“They’re weird,” she comments. “What’s the use of calling the police? Shouldn’t they call an ambulance first?”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking about.”

“Really? But seriously, I was going to call an ambulance before she shouted. I think it’s the first thing to do if you find someone who suddenly collapses.”

“Unless it wasn’t an accident.”

“… could it be murder?”

“Probably.”

Vergil could use his super senses and prodigious knowledge to find the perpetrator, but he’s not in the position to easily do the investigation. He's the son of Sparda, older twin brother of Dante the infamous Legendary Devil Hunter. Any reckless movement can reveal Vergil’s true identity. While Dante is proud of his reputation all over the world, Vergil doesn’t share the same excitement. He prefers to keep on a low profile, invisible from the public. Clearly, going to and fro to investigate won’t be his best choice at the moment.

“You could just go, you know, the moment they called police,” Lyra says. “You said you don’t want anyone to know that you’re a son of… that war hero.”

“And that I am.”

“Why are you still here then?”

“Can’t let a friend facing adversity on her own.”

“All I need to do is just cooperate and let the police do the hard work. It isn’t really adversity.”

“Call it what you want. I know you’re aware of the anomaly in this case.”

Lyra giggles, “You got me there.”

The hybrid sighs and crosses his hands on the chest, “From what I can sense through those women, I have my own hunch.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“I think one of them has something to do with Clarissa Watson’s death. All of them are anxious and terrified, but their behaviors are unusual, like they keep something from the police.”

Lyra observes the three women; The blonde woman is the one who shouted to call the police. Her face shows great grief, but surprisingly her behavior is unnaturally calm. The woman in white dress has been constantly crying since Clarissa’s death. The last woman, who has red hair and looks older than the other women, is the one who seems to be the most normal between them. She manages to calm the other two women while trying to hold her tears.

“Miss Martha Ventham,” Lyra points to the blonde woman. “Mrs Holly Smith,” her fingers point to the red-haired woman who Vergil assumes is the one who comes late, because he hasn’t seen that woman before. Then Lyra turns her finger to the woman in white dress. “And that’s Miss Elena Roberts.”

“How did you know their names?”

“I’m a librarian, Vergil. I have records of everyone who visited this library.”

“Or maybe you were eavesdropping when they were interrogated.”

Vergil doesn’t even have to look at Lyra’s mischievous smirk to see that his words are all true. “Typical.”

“Tell me Vergil, can hybrids die because of poison?”

“No. Our bodies are immune to any kind of viruses, bacteria, and poisons. In a huge amount, we can still get hurt by the pathogen and poison, but it won’t critically damage us. We would heal eventually.”

“So… hypothetically speaking, poison won’t have an effect on you.”

“True. But I presume your insane idea of having me drink Clarissa Watson’s coffee to make sure whether it’s poisoned or not isn’t really hypothetical for you, am I right?”

“I… haven’t even said a word— but yes! It takes time for the police to decide whether this is accident or murder. Look, they haven’t sent the forensic team.”

“… you’re right. It’ll take too much time to wait for the forensic team, if this is really a murder.”

“So, let’s split up, shall we? You go collect some evidence. Let me do the most difficult part.”

“Which is?”

Lyra glances at the group of grieving women. “Socializing, of course.”

It’s quite hard to tip toe and get away from the sight of the police, but Vergil has a practical idea. He leans his back on the wall, pretending to be bored, while quietly sends his doppelganger to investigate the crime scene. He measures his energy to make the doppelganger as transparent as possible to become unnoticeable. With this, he doesn’t have to be directly hanging around the crime scene and catching any attention.

From his doppelganger, he can see the Fiction section is already empty from officers, but they keep the place as it is for now to be further examined by the forensic team. Vergil’s doppelganger passes through the police line and spots three cups of coffee on the table, along with four books beside each coffees. One cup is shattered under the table, leaving stains of the coffee on the floor. He remembers the woman in the white dress, Elena Roberts, dropped the cup out of shock. That reminds him of Elena’s dramatic behavior— she can’t stop crying and sobbing to the point Vergil finds it unusual. It looks like she’s very close with Clarissa, since she takes Clarissa’s death like the end of the world.

His focus turns to the cups on the round table with four chairs. Vergil remembers their seat positions. Clarissa was sitting between Elena and Martha Ventham. That makes it almost impossible for Holly Smith to do anything suspicious, since her seat was right in front of Clarissa’s. But that doesn’t mean she’s free from suspicion. She was the latest person to join the group. The doppelganger shadowy fingers touch the books on the table; Pride and Prejudice on Holly’s side, The Language and Poetry of Flowers on Clarissa’s, The Great Gatsby on Elena’s, and I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings on Martha’s. There are no signs of unusual things from the books. No dust, no stain or anything, but it’s important for Vergil to take notes at everything because it can be useful.

Now the coffee. He examines the cups, even the broken one, but finds nothing unusual. Aside from the broken cup, the other cups are all half-emptied. Poison might have no effect on him, but he has a profound knowledge of toxicology and if there’s poison inside the coffee, even the doppelganger would’ve noticed it. 

But why did Martha Ventham insist on calling the police?

Thinking the crime scene is clear, Vergil almost sends off the doppelganger to spy the police before he catches Nate stares at the doppelganger dreadly. His eyes and mouth are wide open as if he sees a ghost. Technically, the doppelganger is a spectral created from Vergil’s demonic power. From human eyes, it could be seen as a ghost.

Poor man will never forget this haunting moment.

Nate holds his breath and fastens his steps away after the doppelganger vanishes.

Vergil grins in amusement. It’s funny to see people afraid of something they don’t understand yet.

“Clarissa was a good person. The kindest one. I’ve never thought…” Holly Smith sighs as her teary eyes meet Lyra’s. “I just can’t believe…”

“Did she have a heart problem?” Lyra asks, wrapping Holly’s hand with her own hand. “The way she collapsed, I think she—you know…”

“She had mild arrhythmia. Usually it’s not dangerous. I don’t know, she was just fine—completely fine before it happened. She still laughed with us. But then she said she had a sudden headache and nausea. I thought she would be okay after she vomited but…”

“Poor lady… did she take her medicine today?”

“I don’t know.  I just saw her drinking her coffee. I know because I sat right in front of her. She usually took digoxin to stabilize her heartbeat. I guess she forgot to take her medicine or she had too much of it, who knows…”

“I see… that must be horrible,” Lyra mutters sympathetically. “How long have you known Miss Watson?”

“About three years. She was my wedding’s florist. She was all lovely and kind. Her customers adore her. It’s hard to dislike such a person.”

“It must be hard for you and your friends.”

“Of course… but I can’t imagine how Elena’s and Martha’s feelings… They have been close with Clarissa since high school.”

Well, that’s new. “The police said you were the last one to join the group.”

“Yes, I need to check my husband first before I come here. He got lung cancer and needed to be hospitalized.”

“When you arrived, did you see anything unusual from your friends?”

“Unusual…? No, no. At first I didn’t see them because I took my coffee first, then I spotted their bags and cups on the Fiction section, so I put my coffee and my bag there and searched them between the shelves. I found Clarissa and joined her to browse a book.”

Holly lowers her voice. “I have to say… I—I don't know how to put it into words… but Clarissa told me that she had an argument with Elena before they came here. She didn’t exactly tell me the details and I didn’t ask her further because they seemed to have resolved their problem. It must be hard for Elena to take this matter. I can understand why she cries like that, you know, you fought with your best friend and a minute later you found out she’s dead.”

The librarian nods. “Your voice is getting sore, Mrs Smith. I’ll get you water.”

“Thank you.”

Lyra walks to the office, quickly pouring water inside three glasses. She contemplates on Holly’s words. She had arrhythmia. Could that be the main cause of the death? 

But arrhythmia is generally not too dangerous as long as the patient regularly takes their medicine in the appropriate dose as prescribed by the doctor... 

Perhaps she took too much of it? Or maybe one of them intentionally gave the wrong dose? Since the police haven't declared the result of the autopsy yet, it will be difficult to find out the true cause of Clarissa’s death.

Lyra lifts the tray and passes Vergil, giving him an understanding smile. The hybrid gives her a sly smirk in return. Lyra spots a subtle of his demonic power around the police. It seems that Vergil uses his doppelganger to eavesdrop the police. And he called me typical? That sly devil.

“Here you go, Mrs Smith.” Lyra gives Holly Smith a glass of water.

“Thank you. You’re so kind.”

“You’re welcome.”

Lyra excuses herself and approaches the other two women who sit a bit far from Holly Smith. Elena Roberts is still crying, leaning her head on Martha Ventham’s shoulder. Lyra presents the water on the table in front of them and takes a seat beside Martha.

“My condolences for your loss” Lyra says.

“Thank you,” Martha sobs. “We’re sorry for causing commotion here.”

“It’s alright.”

Elena drinks the water almost hurriedly before she sobs again. “I-I can’t b-believe—Clarissa was just fine when we were heading here—we knew this library from internet and we thought it would be nice if the four of us v-visit—“

“I know, dear, I know.” Martha pats Elena’s shoulder.

“I—I need to get out for a while. I can’t stand it—“

“Of course, Miss Roberts.” Lyra answers politely.

Martha helps her friend to stand up as she and Lyra watch her walks shakily outside the library and close the door abruptly.

“Elena is always the most sensitive between us,” Martha explains as she wipes her teary eyes with a handkerchief. “She can cry almost all the time if something touches her heart deeply.”

Lyra nods in understanding, “I can understand that.”

“All of this… is just… unexpected. We were here to have fun. I came early because I was too excited to meet my friends again. Clearly I never expected to see my best friend die in front of me. She didn’t deserve any of this.”

“Did she show any kind of sickness before she collapsed?”

“No. Not at all. As I said, I came here first, then we browsed the book together. About ten minutes later, Holly joined us. Nothing happened before Clarissa suddenly coughed and… you know the rest of the story.”

“Mrs Smith told me that Miss Watson was a florist.”

“Ah, yes! She was a proficient florist. She had a flower shop at Carrington Street. She loved flowers as it was her own soul. Since our graduation from high school, she always wanted to be a florist.”

“By the way Miss Ventham, I need your opinion, since you think there’s something wrong with this case.”

Martha’s eyes are narrowed, “What do you mean I think there’s something wrong with this case?”

“You shouted to call the police. Then you must know that something’s off. Otherwise, you would call the ambulance first instead of police.”

Martha gulps as she straightens her back. It’s obvious that she knows something. She scans through the room, making sure that no one will hear them before she whispers to Lyra, “It’s personal. I can’t tell the cop because Clarissa made me promise that I won’t tell everyone. But I feel like I have to call them, see if they found something suspicious from her death.”

Lyra nods as she wraps her hand on Martha’s, giving her reassurance, “I know that promise is a sacred thing. It just… I’m afraid the police will get suspicious of you, Miss Ventham. Everyone has already witnessed that you’re the one who shouted to call the police. And to be very honest, that’s a rather suspicious thing to do. The police might have come to their conclusion that you have something to do with Miss Watson’s death.”

“For the love of God, no!” Martha’s whisper sounds desperate. “I won’t ever hurt my best friend! Nonsense!”

“Then you must tell your own story about this… a small thing to help the police to finish this case, and who knows it might help you free your worries.”

Martha considers Lyra’s words seriously. She closes her face with her palms, feeling extremely drained and frustrated. She takes a deep breath and murmurs, “Clarissa said she was blackmailed.”

“Blimey!”

“Last week, she asked me to come to her house. She sounded terrified. She told me there was a bouquet of dark crimson roses at the front door of the house. I saw the bouquet; it was so dark that it was almost like black roses. You know, in the language of flowers, black rose means—“

“Death.”

Martha slowly nods, “Exactly. I was going to tell Elena and Holly, but Elena was still in grief because she recently had miscarriage and Holly’s husband is hospitalized. Besides, Clarissa made me promise to not tell this to any soul. Nothing happened since the day she received the bouquet. I wish… I wish I could prevent her death. This madness drives me mad to think that Holly might be the one who threatened her, because she has a garden of roses at her house and she was jealous of Clarissa’s attention to her husband when she visited him at the hospital. But Clarissa was always kind to everyone! I know it was just a blinded accusation. It's just a crazy thought in a crazy situation. Holly is my friend. I should’ve never pointed my finger at her.”

She wipes her eyes again, “I’m sorry. I think you’re right. I should tell the police about this. It’s no use anymore to keep it a secret. At least this is the only thing I can do to help Clarissa.”

“I hope your testimony will help to finish this case.”

“Thank you. Anyway, would you do me a favour to look after Elena while I talk to the cop? She can’t be left alone or she would make a scene.”

“Sure thing, Miss Ventham.”

“Thank you so much.”

Lyra’s eyes follow Martha’s steps as she heads out from the library. She suspects the police will change their direction of the investigation after they hear Martha’s explanation. She watches Nate give a cigarette to Elena Roberts as they smoke together.

“Nate!” Lyra greets her co-worker. “I was looking for you!”

Nate blows the smoke out from his mouth, “I need to evacuate myself outta that hellish building.”

“Why so?”

“I saw a ghost! A real ghost!”

Lyra snorts. He must’ve seen Vergil’s doppelganger! “Nate, you work with your father for almost your entire life at this library. I work here for only two years, and I never saw any ghosts.”

“Ouch, that hurts! You don’t believe me, right? Then wait for your turn to be haunted by that frigging transparent ghost.”

“You’re exhausted, Nate. Relax,” Lyra approaches Elena Roberts who says nothing since Lyra’s arrival. “Miss Roberts? Are you alright? Your friends are waiting for you.”

Elena Roberts looks weary as she lets the smoke out from her mouth. Her makeup looks messy. It must be a horrific burden for her, to had miscarriage and the death of her best friend all of sudden.

“I-I’m sorry…” she sobs. “This is too much for me…”

“I understand.”

“I’m sorry… I broke the cup...” she mutters while wiping her tears. “I don’t know what to do. I saw her and—and I still can’t believe it!”

“It’s fine, Missy. A cup is replaceable.” Nate tries to cheer her up.

“I regret that I had a fight with her before we went to this library. But it was all over. We apologized and we made fun of our earlier argument. Everything came back to normal. It was all fine.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. I heard from the police you had miscarriage, and now your friend…”

Nate coughs as he drops his cigarette, “—dammit! I’m so sorry, Missy. Couldn’t imagine how hard it’s all for you.”

Elena nods and gives him a weak smile, “Thank you. It was just a month ago, and now my friend died in front of me. I must be cursed!”

“I believe it was just an unfortunate event.” Lyra says.

“Then why do these miserable things happen to me? They all left me—my baby, my fiancé, my best friend! She was just fine when I picked her up, even when we arrived and browsed books along with Martha before Holly joined us. Then after she drank the fucking coffee—for Christ’s sake!”

Lyra and Nate exchange a pitiful look.

Elena begins to tremble again and panicky holds Lyra’s hand. “Martha brought us our coffee because she came here first. My heart tells me it was her doing. Who knows she put something to our cups? Clarissa told me that Martha borrowed a large amount of money from her to pay Martha’s rent, but she hasn’t paid it while Clarissa needed her money to return. Yet Martha scolded her for being arrogant and heartless! I know it must be Martha! That greedy, ungrateful bit—!”

“Whoa, whoa, Missy! Calm yourself down! You’re not serious with your words, right? It’s your friend we’re talking about!” Nate cuts the accusation.

Elena starts to sob again. “Oh God… what have I done?”

Nate gives her a cigarette again to calm herself down. Lyra decides to leave them alone because it seems like she has all the necessary information from the women. She enters the library and walks to the Rare section where Vergil is already waiting for her.

“The forensic team comes to take samples on the crime scene,” Vergil says. “Because they found out cardiac glycosides inside Clarissa Watson’s blood, and they assume it could be murder.”

“According to Mrs Smith, Miss Watson had arrhythmia. It explains why her blood contained cardiac glycoside. She took digoxin regularly.”

“That I know. But they also found a large amount of some glycosides from convallaria majalis plant inside her blood.”

“Convalla—you mean that lily of the valley flower?“

“Correct. All parts of the plant contain at least 38 known cardiac glycosides. Convallaria has been used to treat congestive heart failure and some types of arrhythmias. However, the safe amount of lily of the valley is still debatable and if ingested in uncontrolled dosages, the effects on the human heart can be catastrophic.” 

“So... if combined with digoxin...” 

“It will cause more irregular heartbeats and increase the side effects of those glycosides. And there’s more than that. The plant contains non-protein amino acid called Azetidine-2-carboxylic acid. It’s incredibly toxic to humans even in small doses. Misincorporation of that acid into humans proteins can alter collagen, keratin, hemoglobin, and protein folding. Basically it changes human body function on a molecular level.”

“... that’s a terrible way to die.” Lyra contemplates. “Miss Watson was a florist. She must have a bunch of lily of the valley at her shop. It could explain why there’s convallatoxin inside her blood. But I think it’s impossible for a florist to do reckless things such as intentionally consume the lilies of the valley.”

“Then it leads us to one conclusion; someone intentionally poisoned her. This person knows her illness and the medication she was taking regularly. But that’s the problem. I found nothing in Watson’s cup. It’s just a coffee.”

“Oh, bugger!”

“Miss Lyra Clayton?”

Lyra looks up to see the man who calls her. It looks like the man is from the forensic team, “Yes?”

“I’d like to ask your permission to collect the coffee cups as the evidence to be examined.”

Lyra smiles politely, “Of course.”

The officer hurries himself to join his team to the crime scene.

“Clayton,” Vergil emphasizes sardonically. “All these months, you never told me your surname.”

“Is that important now?”

The hybrid shrugs, “At least you could tell me.”

Lyra almost burst into laughter. He looks adorable when he’s sulking like that . “Alright then. My name is Lyra Clayton. Nice to meet you.”

“I didn’t ask you to re-introduce yourself.”

“Well, I’m just emphasizing my name to you.”

“… I prefer your first way to introduce yourself.”

“With a riddle? For real? I thought you hate riddles!”

“It just seems natural,” Vergil looks away. “I just… I don’t like the idea of not knowing you entirely.”

“…”

“Nevermind,” he blurts. “Now tell me what you find from those women.”

She tells him everything, from Clarissa’s illness to the women’s personal problems and accusations to each other. Vergil keeps silent throughout the librarian’s explanation. He almost thinks that maybe this was a mere accident, that maybe Clarissa Watson accidentally consumed lily of the valley. But that sounds forced and too… incidental. The timing, the place, the blackmail that Clarissa received a week ago, the mental condition of Clarissa’s friends… it doesn’t sound right for him.

Vergil recalls his memories of the broken cup. He didn’t taste the coffee—of course it’s humiliating to lick the coffee stain on the floor. He’s not a mindless animal. Yet he believes he saw something. Not unusual, but quite noticeable and looks completely normal.

“… none of them wear red lipstick.”

“Sorry, what?”

“I think it’s normal for women to wear lipstick.”

“Sure. It’s normal. I wear it sometimes too. What is it, Vergil?”

“It's just… strange.”

“Why so?”

“The broken cup. There’s a red lipstick mark on it. I remember Clarissa Watson wore red lipstick. That makes it possible for someone to switch their own cup with Watson’s cup without raising any suspicion. Each of them are not always sitting still to read, sometimes they search for a book in another section or refill their cups. And when Watson collapsed, they switched back the cups and dropped it on purpose; to erase the suspicion.”

“But the police must’ve found the poison container already when they searched their belongings.”

“… you’re right.”

“But I agree with you. They all are suspects now. But first, we need to find the container. That’s the only way to find out the true killer. They have motives. Money problem, jealousy, and the unknown argument… Their accusations towards each other are not reliable.”

“All of them had a chance to put the poison. We need to look closer to their motives and the remaining evidence.”

Vergil sighs frustratedly and turns his head to the group of women. The case shows the light at the end of the tunnel, but they haven’t reached its end. They need to find the evidence; the poison container, if it really existed. The container must be still with one of them. But what could it be? Who brought it?

“The necklace.” Lyra murmurs.

“Pardon?”

“The necklace is gone. See?”

Ah.

Foolishness, Vergil. How could you miss that?

SHOCKING MURDER IN THE LIBRARY!

Clarissa Watson (35), a florist and owner of Persephone Flower Shop died after collapsing at The Literarium, a small local library at Michelangelo Street on 11 March. The police declared that Watson’s death was caused by lily of the valley ( convallaria majalis ) poisoning. The library served free coffee and the cardiac glycosides from the lily of the valley flower was found inside Watson’s cup. According to the police, Watson had arrhythmia and she had to take digoxin regularly. With the digoxin combined with convallatoxin, both cardiac glycosides lead her to death. It was revealed that her friend, Elena Roberts (35) was the one who poured the poison inside Watson’s coffee. To cover her action, she dropped Watson’s cup that she switched earlier to erase the evidence when Watson collapsed.

At first, Roberts objected that she was too panicked and couldn't think clearly while dropping Watson’s cup, thinking it was her own cup. She also claimed she didn’t possess the poison. It was revealed that Roberts’s fingerprints also appeared on the broken cup. The police also found Robert’s necklace from her clothes. The necklace contained residue of liquid convallaria majalis inside its removable tube-shaped pendant.

According to another of Watson’s friends who were present at the moment, Martha Ventham (35) and Holly Smith (37), Roberts was depressed because of her recent miscarriage. Roberts herself finally admitted that she thought Watson took part of her miscarriage by giving her chamomile and ginger tea when she visited Watson’s house three weeks ago. Roberts didn’t know she was pregnant until the miscarriage happened. She claimed she was devastated and it was hard for her to not blame Watson for the miscarriage. She put a bouquet of dark crimson roses at Watson’s house a week before this tragedy happened as a threat that she could never forget Watson’s mistake. Ventham confirmed this statement since she saw the bouquet when Watson told her about the blackmail, but she never thought that it was Roberts who sent it.

“Clarissa made me promise to shut my mouth about it,” Ventham stated. “But when she collapsed, I remember that bouquet and I couldn’t help myself to not call the police. Something’s wrong, and I have to find the truth for Clarissa’s sake”. Smith also confirmed that Watson and Roberts had an argument before their arrival at the library. It was then revealed that Roberts confronted Watson about the miscarriage, but Watson denied it.

Roberts said that the idea of murder just popped on her head  since two weeks ago and she chose lily of the valley because it was Watson’s favourite flower.

“Lily of the valley means the return of happiness,” Roberts stated. “I know because Clarissa told me that. I thought with her death by her own favourite flower, it would return my happiness after I lost my baby, but I can only feel nothing. I lost everything, and maybe I deserve that.”

12 March, 02:00 pm

Lyra closes the newspaper and turns her eyes to Vergil, who haven’t finished reading Beowulf , “Do chamomile really can cause miscarriage?”

The hybrid grumbles, “Do I look like I’m capable of answering that?”

“You know, it’s rude to answer question with question.”

Vergil grunts. “All I know about miscarriage that it could happened by many factors. Too much chamomile might trigger the miscarriage, but that’s not always the case.”

Lyra nods slowly as she puts the newspaper down and picks up The Turn of The Screw. “At least that explains Miss Roberts’s over-dramatic reaction. I guess she feels guilty after murdering her friend, realizing that it was all too late and she can’t redo everything. But we can never really blame her frustration. She wasn’t in the right state of mind.”

“It is always better to avenge dear ones than to indulge in mourning ,” Vergil recites the line from Beowulf . “It’s strange what humans could do in devastation.”

“Yeah, such as stabbing themselves with a magic sword and splitting them into two different beings.”

Lyra laughs when Vergil gives her his usual deadly glare.

“Well, at least we have more customers thanks to Miss Roberts,” Lyra chuckles as she observes the guests. “Nate was right about that. Though Mr Steiner stopped giving free coffee. No more murder in the library, he said.”

“I’m happy for you.”

“You don’t look happy.”

“I don’t have to smile like Joker to tell you that I’m happy.”

“You're a funny guy, you know that?”

“Don’t call me funny.”

“And you’re the best partner in crime!”

“Silence.”

Even though Vergil dismisses her words harshly, Lyra still can see the subtle warm smile on Vergil’s lips. She flips the page of The Turn of The Screw and tells herself to finish the book today. There’s a long pause before she realizes that Vergil stares at her with an unreadable expression. Uncomfortable with the gaze, Lyra chuckles, “You know it’s rude to stare, right?”

“Pardon me. I was just trying to recall.”

“Of what?”

“Remind me again, what did exactly you tell the police once we found out the disappearance of Elena Roberts’ necklace?”

“Well… as we agreed, I told the police that Miss Roberts’ necklace could be the evidence they’ve looked for. As we know, the necklace has a tube pendant which could contain approximately 1-2 ml of liquid inside it. It was odd that she suddenly removed the necklace out of the blue, for we know she wore it since her arrival here with Miss Watson. It was a gamble, but the police confirmed that the tube contained residue of convallatoxin. It was easy for Miss Roberts to pour the poison inside Miss Watson’s cup and quickly removed the necklace right before she joined them to browse the books. We know that Mrs Smith might have turned to be the suspect since she was the latest to join the group, so she didn’t have any chance to witness Miss Roberts’ position before her arrival and she sat at her chair first to put her coffee on the table before she joined her group.”

“And Martha Ventham had witnessed that Holly Smith had a garden of roses at her house, which could indicate that she was the one who brought the bouquet of dark crimson roses as a threat to Clarissa Watson.”

“Correct. That strengthens Miss Roberts’ alibi.”

“So all the pieces of the puzzle were collected,” Vergil leans forward and taps his fingers on the table. “But there’s a major plot hole.”

Lyra tilts her head, “And what is that?”

Vergil deeply gazes at Lyra’s eyes, his voice is almost gentle. “How did you know that Elena Roberts wore the necklace since the first of her arrival?”

Vergil has read too many micro-expressions and even if just a slightest, he can sense a fight-or-flight instinct from the librarian as her face turns pale and her eyes dilate before she quickly collects her self-control and pretends to be confused with Vergil’s question.

“Because I saw it. Don’t we all, Vergil?”

“I saw the necklace because she and Clarissa Watson almost bumped at me near the receptionist table. When the murder happened, the necklace was already gone. You were reading seriously all the time before you stood up to get some water for Clarissa Watson when she vomited at the toilet. That means Elena Roberts had already poured the poison before that moment happened and she already hid her necklace. Panic and sadness consumed them all and that made them unaware of menial things like a necklace.” Vergil stops his finger’s movement. “In conclusion, Lyra, you never saw the necklace. But somehow you recognized the disappearance of the necklace. How did you know that?”

“I… asked her friends, of course.”

“That would be invalid, because they must’ve suspected it too and would have immediately confronted her about the necklace, or at least they would report it to the police. But no, they all gathered up and cried for the loss of their best friend.”

That statement edges Lyra to her loss. She sighs deeply in defeat, looking around her like she’s making sure that no one heard their conversation. She slowly bites her lips and looks at Vergil’s eyes, seriously considering something.

The hybrid knows this is the time he finally gets his answer for his long unsettling feeling for Lyra. He waits patiently all these months to find out, even hoping for Lyra to tell him in person. When he says that he dislikes not knowing anything about her yesterday, he means it and deep down he wishes Lyra to understand it. It’s obvious that he likes her a little too much, but there’s still a border between them that he finds it hard to completely trust her.

I want to trust you. Please let me trust you.

“Stardust,” he lowers his voice. “You accept me for who I really am. You consider me as your friend despite my flaws. Please understand that I intend to do so to you.”

The feeling of gratitude and relief fill his heart when Lyra finally nods in agreement at him. Her smile blooms again, now it’s brighter and sincere than her first fake smile. She still has her own doubt, but finally she takes a deep breath and grins.

“You’re right, it’s not fair. You told me everything and I’ll return the favor. I believe you can keep it a secret.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“My head is full of ghosts,” Lyra says. “It’s a metaphor, because it sounds like whispers, then it turns into pictures.”

What’s she talking about?

“I don’t remember since when I possessed this, nor how I acquired it. It just happened automatically. It’s… mostly frustrating. It mentally drains me, to know things I should not and never want to know. At least before I met you. Whenever you’re around me, it always stops. It goes normal just like everyone else doing. You don’t know how relieved I am to be with you. You stop the ghosts.”

“I am honoured,” Vergil says. “But I’m afraid I still don’t follow—”

“I can’t read your mind, Vergil.”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s the thing, because I always can read everyone’s mind, whether it’s humans or demons. But not you, and not when you’re around me. It seems like your presence disables my ability. But yesterday, when I touched those women’s hands, I realized that I am still able to read minds when you’re around if I touch them. Now you know how I recognized Miss Roberts’ necklace, as well as the fact I know that she’s the killer all along. But I can’t just tell you all the information I acquired from her head. That’s why I have to discuss it with you. To guide you to the answer.”

Ah . The realization comes to Vergil’s head. She’s a telepath.

The librarian touches Vergil’s hand and grabs it softly. It surprises him and he almost pulls his hand off, but he restrains himself. He won’t lose to his own fear of physical contacts.

Slowly, she releases Vergil’s hand. “Yet… even if I touch you like this, I still see nothing. I wonder whether it’s Sparda's protection on you. I don’t dare force myself to look inside your head. I fear that would make you aware of my ability. Besides, I respect your privacy. I see too much. That’s why I like it when you’re with me. You give me solitude.”

I was wrong all this time. The void that Vergil always sees whenever he watches Lyra’s eyes is the burden of the eyes that see too much. The eyes that are exhausted and always wander to find peace and calmness. Sometimes it’s hard to see the truth behind the unfamiliar eyes, especially the eyes like hers. But now he understands the meaning of it. Vergil knows that knowledge can be a curse—she suffers silently with her ability to read mind.

“Thank you for your honesty,” he states. “You should’ve told me earlier.”

“I thought it would make you uncomfortable.”

Nonsense. Of course I won’t feel uncomfortable whenever I’m with you.

“Will you try to read my mind again?” he asks.

“I told you already, I can’t. I’ve tried.”

Vergil reaches out his hand, “Just try it. I will allow you to read what’s on my mind at the moment.”

Lyra grabs his hand and tries to focus on Vergil’s head instead of his icy, alluring eyes. At first she gets nothing, just a static darkness, then she sees some blurry images that she can’t perceive. It seems that whatever protection in Vergil’s mind, it will endure itself if Vergil allows it, but although Lyra tries her best to clear her vision, the pictures are getting hazy, in fact, the more she tries to break Vergil’s mind, the darker it goes.

Then she hears it. It’s not quite like Vergil’s voice, more like a brainwave, but she can clearly interpret the meaning, and that makes her smile get wider as she realizes that Vergil is also aware of her presence inside his mind.

“Our minds are connected!” she exclaims.

Vergil still tries to adjust the new experience, “This is… curious. Have you done this before?”

“No. This is the first time. Must be enhanced by the power of Sparda, eh?”

“Could be.”

“This is wicked!”

“Even without opening your mouth, you’re still a chatterbox.”

“And you’re still a grumpy devil.”

A sudden thought comes up from Vergil’s mind, but he hastily holds himself before Lyra could interpret it. That breaks their mind connection. He seems flustered, gripping his book tightly. Knowing that Vergil hides something, Lyra eyes the hybrid in front of her in a playful manner.

“You know no one can hear us, Vergil.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Then you know I won’t tell it out loud, whatever thought you just held before. I’m the only one who can hear you.”

“That’s precisely why I won’t tell you.”

Lyra shrugs and picks up her book again. For a moment they don’t talk to each other. But when Lyra almost finishes her book, her head jolts a little as she receives a thought from Vergil.

“Places among the stars,

Soft gardens near the sun,

Keep your distant beauty;

Shed no beams upon my weak heart.

Since she is here

In a place of blackness,

Not your golden days

Nor your silver nights

Can call me to you.

Since she is here

In a place of blackness,

Here I stay and wait.”

Vergil gives her a quick glance and small grin after Lyra nods to him as a confirmation that she gets what he thinks. She knows that Vergil has a hard time uttering his feelings and prefers to recite poems as his odd way to express whatever is inside his mind and his heart. She knows that the poem isn’t exactly what Vergil wanted to tell her earlier, but she knows that this is the other way to tell her his intention. It’s still too subtle for her, but the poem warms her heart. It’s like a promise that Vergil will keep her secret and he accepts her the way she is, not even asking how she could possess such a power, for Lyra is just a human.

Because Vergil will wait for her, and perhaps Lyra should never underestimate his patience.

“Thank you, Vergil.”