Chapter Text
The sky always looked like this on her birthday.
Hugo noticed it every year — the way everything looked faded and still, like scenery from an old photograph. The colors had been washed away by fragile sunlight, and the shadows were softened by wispy clouds. It was always the same — the pure white horizon, the petite indigo wildflowers, the daintily blooming tree… as though he really were walking through a memory, a moment of the past… preserved, and safe from everything that would inevitably happen.
A breeze brushed his cheek, cool and damp. It still carried her scent — the faint sweetness of pear blossoms. It used to cling to her hair whenever she ran laughing up the hill, kicking up the white petals scattered like snowflakes over the grass.
He could almost see her there — a small, bright shape darting between the trees in her white dress, calling back to him.
“Come on, Hugo! You’re so slow!”
She had always been ahead of him. Always leading the way.
He still felt the echo of her hand clasped tightly around his own, tugging him toward the sunlight even when all he wanted to do was hide. He remembered the sight of her tiny silhouette standing before him, arms spread and chin high, glaring boldly into the looming shadows like a little knight.
He had told her once, imploringly, that she didn’t have to protect him. That she shouldn’t even be speaking to him.
But she had only flashed him a grin — that cheeky, dazzling grin that he would never be able to truly replicate.
“But I want to!”
Even now, all these years later… there she was, still. Atop the petal-strewn hill, waiting for him beneath the picturesque white sky.
Her grave sat beneath the same tree he used to anxiously watch her climb. Its branches bent protectively over the marble, as though still trying to shelter her from the wind. The letters Serena Ravenlock had been carved into the stone, softened now by time. Etched below it was a small silver butterfly, gleaming faintly from years of careful polishing.
The remains of his last bouquet still lay before her, the ribbons unravelled by birds and the wilted petals scattered by wind. As his shadow fell over her, a single white blossom drifted down and landed by his feet as though in greeting… as though asking him to come closer.
Quietly, Hugo knelt down. He brushed aside the old flowers, then removed his glove and gently touched the wings of the butterfly.
“… Hey, Serena.”
The greeting barely left his lips before it trembled apart. He swallowed, his throat tightening until it became too painful to breathe. Closing his eyes, Hugo lowered his head and tried to remember how to bear with the agony.
“... Happy birthday.”
For a long while, he said nothing more. He bowed there, holding his breath, as though he might still be able to hear her if he was quiet enough.
But in the long, hazy silence, only a chirping bird answered. He stirred, his lashes fluttering open but his gaze lingering in the blurred hues of the past. It took a moment for the colors to stabilize, and return to the ornate bouquet in his arms.
Gently, he placed the fresh flowers before her gravestone and tried to offer her a smile. But his lips strained in resistance, and his eyes crinkled with an emotion that he couldn’t quite mask. Rising slowly to his feet, he smoothed out his coat and let out a soft sigh.
“It’s been a while,” he murmured, a tremor still lingering in his voice. “I’m sorry for not coming to see you sooner. Things have been…”
But then, an unexpected laugh made its way into his sentence.
“… Unbelievable.”
He smiled, and this time it felt easier.
“Remember that ‘old friend’ I used to talk about?” He chuckled sheepishly. “Lycaon, he…”
He trailed off, lips twisting in forlorn as he thought of the countless times he had uttered that name in front of her… while laughing, while cursing, while crying. He still remembered it vividly — the night he had knelt here, stained with ash and shivering in the rain, telling her in broken whispers that she was the only one who had ever loved him. That he was tired. That he wanted to see her again.
The anguish from that day still gnawed at his heart when he was alone and reminiscing. But… those moments were less frequent now. With Vivian, and Robin, and the proxies, and somehow all of Victoria Housekeeping constantly pestering him for one reason or another, the solitude he had once drowned in was now a rare respite.
… And Lycaon, of course. A crooked smile flickered onto Hugo’s lips as he recalled how tricky it had been to slip away this morning without that fusspot noticing.
“… He’s still as finicky as ever.”
He lowered his head and shook it in mild exasperation.
“Did you know he sorts the bedroom garbage?”
As the familiar complaints began to flow naturally off his tongue, the painful tension in his throat began to ease.
“He insists my chocolate wrappers have to go in a separate bin. He’s even started analyzing my blood sugar levels — he has a spreadsheet for it!” Hugo scoffed disbelievingly. “He claims that if we can spot a pattern, we can manage it more safely. You’d think he doesn’t have enough work to do…”
He took a deep, gratified breath, then let himself rant a little longer.
“He subjects me to ‘routine checks’ upon entry into the house now. Yesterday, he tied me to the kitchen chair because I had a splinter in my hand, then whipped out the entire first aid kit. I wasn’t even resisting!”
Hugo chuckled forlornly.
“He’s been like that since the banquet.”
Thinking back to that eventful night, Hugo trailed off. It had been a week since then, and he had been busy rounding up the remaining members of Sablier Noir. The city administration was painfully slow on the uptake as usual, so he had taken matters into his own hands.
He had a feeling Lycaon had been secretly supporting him, though — despite the Thiren’s disgruntled act. His solo nightly romps had all gone suspiciously smoothly — a few times, his targets had practically flung themselves into his arms begging for salvation, as though they had encountered something far more terrifying moments before he arrived.
There were still many stragglers they had yet to hunt down, but as of last night, all active members of the inner circle had been discreetly detained. With their leaders out of the way, Sablier Noir’s communication network would be completely disrupted. Their remaining members would have no way of receiving commissions through the organization, so the risk of continued criminal activity was low.
“… A lot happened, Serena.” Hugo heaved a heavy sigh. “A lot that I didn’t expect would happen.”
He closed his eyes and relived it all — the seedy bar and the rowdy music, the taste of blood and bitterness… the fury and tears in Vivian’s eyes, and the unexpected tenderness in Lycaon’s murmur. The Hollow’s bloody horizon, the shattered skyscrapers, the rush of wind in his ears, and the unspoken whisper on his lips. The blazing flames, the hugs, the screams, the laughter… and the long, heady nights that came after.
“All that madness… yet the most terrifying challenge is still to come.”
A bubbly sensation rose in his chest, and he chuckled it out.
“Vivian’s birthday is coming up again, too. She’s been going out of her way to pretend she’s forgotten… I’m certain it’s a test.”
Hugo shook his head in mock despair.
“It was easier when she was younger, but now she’s a regal lady, and I’m still just… me.”
Pressing his hat over his chest, he bowed his head in a show of humility.
“How could I possibly hope to achieve what she deserves?”
He gazed down at the silent tombstone with a soft smile.
“… I really wish you were here, Serena. You would have known exactly what to get her.”
He lingered there for a while, a warm but weighty breath ebbing slowly from his chest. In its absence, a thicker, darker mass swelled against his heart, and his smile faded into nothingness.
Forcing himself to take a deep breath before the pain could become too much, Hugo placed his hat back on his head.
“Well… I better head to my next stop before I get hunted down by a certain obstinate mutt.”
The breeze curled against his cheek as he spoke, and he turned his face upwards to greet it. As he breathed in the nostalgic scent of nectar and pear blossoms, bittersweet tension swelled in his chest, and his expression crumbled in anguish.
“… I’ll come again soon, Serena.”
With a heavy but warm heart, he turned away and followed the gently falling petals back down the slope.
The sky had cleared up by the time he stepped out of the metro station, and the sun was shining warmly over the colorful storefronts of Sixth Street. One-Dennyboo was outside the video store, surrounded by schoolgirls and being showered with praises and pats.
The neighbourhood always seemed peaceful and friendly, no doubt thanks to the people who lived here. If only the rest of New Eridu could be as laid-back as this little corner of the city…
Put at ease by the familiar tranquility, Hugo opened the door of the video store in a good mood. He was practically ready to utter his greeting in song—
Only to be startled by an intense thundering of rapid footsteps.
Streaking down the stairs at terminal velocity, a grey-haired blur shot across the store and dove behind a box of unsorted videos.
“WIIIIISSSEEE!”
With a demonic screech, two more figures blazed down the steps, one of them brandishing makeup brushes, the other wielding a weapon — a hair dryer, Hugo realized belatedly. They stopped at the foot of the stairs and swivelled their heads around, searching the store for their prey — and inevitably spotting Hugo.
“… Why, hello there.” He mustered a friendly smile. “Have I come at a bad time?”
“Hugo!” Belle brightened instantly, the ferocity in her gaze vanishing behind sunny sparkles.
“Oh, hi.” Lowering the hairdryer, Vivian cast him a somewhat perplexed look, as though she couldn’t come up with a single reason for why he’d visit. “What are you doing here?”
Lifting a hand to his heart, Hugo opened his mouth to dramatically lament about how she could be so cold — but Belle piped up first.
“Have you seen my brother?”
Hugo immediately smiled again, taking care not to accidentally give away the box that Wise was cowering behind.
“Wise?”
“No, my other brother, Lighter — yes, Wise.” Belle gave him a strange look. “You have, haven’t you?”
“I only just arrived, so I haven’t seen anyone else,” Hugo said innocently, mustering a concerned expression. “Is something the matter?”
“Oh, nah.” Sounding thoughtful, Belle went and wandered into the staff room.
Vivian, however, continued to squint at him with the shrewd glare of someone who knew better.
Pretending he couldn’t see her piercing accusation, Hugo asked, “Why are you looking for him?”
“We’re helping him get ready,” Vivian began.
“For his first date!” Belle chirped, popping her head out of the staff room.
“Oh…?” Intrigued, Hugo very nearly glanced at the box. From the corner of his vision, he saw Wise stiffening in horror.
“He keeps insisting it’s not a date,” Vivian sighed pityingly. “He called it ‘hanging out with a friend’, but they’ve been planning it for ages.”
“They’re going to watch Fissured Heart!” Belle’s voice shouted from the other room.
“Ah, yes.” Hugo nodded thoughtfully. As Vivian had told him many times over the past week, she and Belle had watched that movie together, too. “I heard it’s very good—”
“—and super romantic!” Belle said gleefully, emerging back into the storefront with a gleam in her eyes. “You should’ve seen him preparing for his not-date,” she cackled. “He made flashcards and stayed up late studying conversation starters.”
“And he was really anxious about sitting next to them in the theatre,” Vivian added with a solemn nod.
“He said, what if our elbows brush?” Belle recited in an anxious-Wise voice. “If I pull away, would that seem rude? Should I stay still and pretend I didn’t notice?”
Behind the box, Wise buried his face in his hands and shrunk down like a trembling hamster.
“They’re going to a café after,” Vivian added with a dreamy flutter of her lashes. “I gave him a list of recommendations, and they picked my favorite! It has rose chandeliers, gorgeous décor, private seating—”
With a devilish snicker, Belle added, “A little Fairy told me he even made a post on the Inter-Knot asking for tips on how to hold hands—”
“Aaaah!” Wise bolted up from the box, steam practically shooting out of his crimson ears. “I did not do that! I—!”
He whirled towards Hugo, oblivious to the triumphant smirks that Vivian and Belle were exchanging.
“That did not happen!” he huffed breathlessly. “You can check the Inter-Knot, no such post exists! It’s not a date! It is not—!”
“Knew it,” Vivian scoffed, crossing her arms.
“Hugo,” Belle whined in betrayal, “How could you side with my brother like that?”
Hugo raised his hands defensively. “I wasn’t siding with anyone — I simply have a policy not to out friends, either. At least…”
He looked over at Wise with a smile.
“Not without knowing the full story. You look nice, Wise.”
Wise’s hair had been carefully styled, his eyes had been defined with some light lines, and they had done something to brighten his complexion — although it could have just been his mortified flush.
“See, Bro?” Belle cried indignantly. “Hugo says you look nice too! We’re just trying to help you with your date.”
“For the last—” Wise broke off and floundered desperately for a way out of his predicament, but seeing none, ultimately resorted to repeating himself. “It is not a date!”
Swivelling between Hugo and the ladies, he offered his palms as though begging them to believe him.
“And I don’t want to look nice! I want to look normal! If I show up looking like this then they’re going to think something is going on!”
Hugo raised an eyebrow curiously. “Is something going on?”
“O-Of course not!” Wise spluttered, whirling towards him. “We’re just going to watch a movie that’s been popular lately! People do that as friends all the time!”
Grasping his chin, Hugo nodded thoughtfully.
“Indeed,” he agreed. “My friend and I did that often in the past, too.”
“Urk—”
To his confusion, Wise’s expression scrunched up in dismay, as though he had said something extremely scandalous.
“If you mean Lycaon,” Vivian pointed out wryly, “you’re not making a very good point.”
Abruptly, Hugo fell silent. Across from him, Belle burst into hysterical laughter.
Helplessly, Wise croaked, “It’s not a date.”
“Think about it this way,” Vivian said in a cajoling voice. “What if they show up looking extra nice, only to see that you didn’t put in the same effort?” She gave Wise a meaningful look. “Do you really want to be that guy?”
At that, Wise hesitated. As soon as he wavered, Belle and Vivian lunged forward. Grabbing him by the arms, they began to haul him back up the stairs, cackling triumphantly.
“Wait!” Wise gasped, flailing his hands towards the door. “Help me! Hugo!”
Angling himself away, Hugo jerked a thumb at the door.
“Should I come back later?”
“No!” Belle and Vivian called over their shoulders.
“Noooooo—!”
Wise’s voice echoed around the corner as he was dragged out of sight. The thudding overhead faded not long after.
Chuckling ruefully to himself, Hugo smoothed out his jacket, then shifted his attention to the video store’s shelves. He strolled over and began to browse the colorful selection of tapes as he waited for his hosts to return.
He found himself drawn to the whimsical titles with vivid, almost childish colors. His first fairytale had been a gift from Serena… it had been her favorite, a tale that she loved and hated in equal measure.
It was a classic — a story of a prince who rescued a princess from an evil dragon and brought her back to his kingdom, where they lived happily ever after as king and queen.
Serena loved the scenery, the gallant quotes, and the small whimsical miracles that happened along the way. She hated the prince and the princess. She thought they were pompous, naïve, and dreadfully boring. She’d point out the plot holes with righteous fury and drag Hugo to the manor’s theatre, where she’d insist on reenacting the entire story ‘properly’.
They’d play out her vision on the unlit stage — she’d be the unruly princess thrown in the locked tower as punishment, and he’d be the evil dragon forced to guard her. Together, they’d smash down the tower doors, break his shackles, and make the annoying prince fall pathetically on his butt. Then, they’d soar away together and build their own home in the wilderness, free from the oppressive rule of their family.
He supposed that was no longer an uncommon tale nowadays. As he gazed at a movie cover featuring the dirt-streaked, tousled visage of a girl in warrior’s leather, Hugo smiled to himself.
… Serena would have been glad.
He followed the rows deeper until he reached the horror section. Vivian usually preferred documentaries, but lately she had been getting into these, too — probably because Belle enjoyed them.
A particular cover caught his eye — the mysterious, foggy scenery from a psychological horror. Hugo had watched it himself a few years ago — it was an excellent film, thought-provoking, unsettling, and based on a true story. According to his information network, ten signed special editions had been distributed randomly at the movie’s debut, and they were now one of the rarest tapes in New Eridu. The special editions contained extra scenes that supposedly transformed the meaning of the entire ending… the few people who had seen them had been too mind-blown to give anything away.
“You just have to see it for yourself,” one viewer had claimed. “No words can explain the experience.”
Of course, it was probably just a gimmick to drive up the value of the collectible. But the anticipation around it was real — which meant that if Hugo could somehow find one of those special edition tapes, it would make an excellent birthday present. Not only was it priceless in value, it would give Vivian the perfect opportunity to enjoy a long night on the couch together with Lord Phaethon…
Hugo continued to wander, his mind racing with half-formed schemes. He’d have to cash in some favors, but with a few leaps of faith, he could probably get it done in time…
Submerged deep in his own thoughts, Hugo stopped in front of an arbitrary shelf. He didn’t realize how long he had been staring at the tape in front of him until its vivid pink color began to feel obnoxious on his eyes.
Grimacing, he blinked away the discomfort and realized he had been looking at the cover of Oh~ Sweetie. He stared at it blankly for a few more seconds, then broke into a sudden mischievous grin.
… Say, what kind of movies did Lycaon enjoy nowadays?
Back when they were teenagers, the Thiren had liked thrillers and intense, action-packed fights. He’d never claimed to have such a preference, but Hugo had noticed how he always became fixated on the screen, hackles fluffed up and tail twitching in a restrained wag as the gleam of primal excitement flickered through his eyes.
Sir Lycaon the head of Victoria Housekeeping, however, seemed like the kind of Thiren to have more… sophisticated, tastes.
Hugo wondered what dreary genres his old friend had fooled himself into liking.
He reached out for the flamboyant tape with a snicker. Younger Lycaon had never been able to handle these kinds of dramatic, heated romances, and he couldn’t see that changing. But he could see the Thiren sitting stiffly through this with feigned composure, just to prove him wrong.
Hugo smirked to himself as he imagined how Lycaon would react when the enchanting blonde actress began to intertwine with her lover on the screen. The Thiren would probably sit there in an utter deadpan, his shoulders stiff as boulders and his ears twitching with every provocative gasp that rose from the speakers. Hugo assumed Lycaon would be able to handle sitting still — but would his old friend be able to maintain that façade with a bit more… interference…?
As his imagination spiralled into steamier fantasies, Hugo closed his eyes and hid his giddy smile behind a loosely curled fist. He had just started indulging in some particularly indecent imagery when footsteps startled him out of his thoughts.
Quickly smoothing out his expression, he turned to see Belle coming down the stairs, followed closely by Vivian. They were no longer armed, and they looked rather satisfied with themselves.
“How’s Wise?” Hugo asked, trying not to sound too concerned.
“He’s in the bathroom crying,” Belle chirped.
“He agreed to make himself look nice,” Vivian explained solemnly, “so we left him to it. We wouldn’t want him to feel too self-conscious on his first date.”
She and Belle exchanged smirks.
Gingerly, Hugo asked, “Am I allowed to ask who the lucky person is?”
Belle opened her mouth, but Vivian cut in.
“Absolutely not!” she insisted fiercely. “They’ve finally made progress after a really long time, and I’m not going to let you show up and ruin the romance!”
“Ruin—? I would never!” Hugo scoffed, bracing a palm against his heart in mock indignation. “I’m a devoted advocate of romance — and quite well-versed in it, myself.”
“Oh yeah?” Vivian’s tone became dry. “Like that time you made the florist on Third Street cry because you rejected them with ‘I’m not looking to get betrayed again’?”
Hugo averted his gaze. “I was in the middle of an infiltration. That wasn’t me, but the character I was portraying.”
“Right… and were you ‘portraying’ a different character when you spent the entire date with that secretary talking about Lycaon?”
Belle gasped in horror. “You name-dropped your ex on a date?”
“It wasn’t a date — and why are you calling him my ex?” Hugo said defensively. “They were working for the same family — I was simply keeping an eye on my nemesis.”
“And let’s not forget the crazy rumors that have sprung up lately—”
Vivian leaned forward, eyes suddenly sparkling with glee.
“Everyone’s talking about how Victoria Housekeeping’s head attendant is having an affair with a spicy blonde maid!”
“What?” Hugo stiffened in a double-take.
“You haven’t heard?” Vivian covered her mouth in a playful act of shock. “All the top influencers at the banquet caught the two of you dancing. Some of them even went as far as to claim you kissed—”
“No,” Hugo interrupted, frowning. “I mean, why are they calling it an affair? Who do they think he’s supposed to be with—?”
He broke off as his phone buzzed with an incoming message.
“Is it Lycaon?” Vivian asked teasingly. Belle muffled a very obvious giggle.
Distractedly, Hugo barely glanced at his phone before turning back to them.
“No,” he huffed. “Forget about Lycaon—”
“His favorite phrase,” Vivian whispered to Belle.
Clearing his throat loudly, Hugo continued as though he hadn’t heard.
“I come bearing good news — the gallery repairs are nearly finished,” he said briskly. “It’s expected we can move back within a month.”
“That’s great!” Belle congratulated them warmly, only to then grab Vivian’s arm and hug it possessively. “But I’ll miss having Vivian around… do you really have to take her?”
Rapidly turning pink, Vivian huffed a few times and attempted to speak in an elegant tone, though her voice was far too giddy and breathless to sound ladylike.
“Lord Phaethon has already done too much for me — in order to stand by your side as an equal, I must have my own affairs in order. Of course—”
She took an excited breath and her voice suddenly jumped an octave higher.
“—In the future, we’ll move into a riverside penthouse. The terrace will be perfect for morning tea, and you — I mean, the view — would look breathtaking in the plentiful sunlight. I found this sofa that would match your eyes, it’s super cozy and perfect for late-night movie marathons. We’ll have matching slippers, mugs that complete each other’s quotes, and—”
His phone buzzed again. Distractedly, Hugo glanced down at it.
The world distorted.
It warped and turned black, as though a black hole had opened beneath his feet and sucked him away.
Dimly, he heard Vivian still rambling — but her voice sounded muffled, as though coming from very far away. He had been taken from the warmth of the video store and thrown into a dark, frigid abyss.
This time, it was Lycaon.
A photo of him.
The Thiren was slumped over in a chair, muzzled and bound, his white fur tousled and his head limp over his shoulders.
Unmoving.
Hugo’s vision flooded blood red.
The sender’s icon was a scarlet gemstone cradled in a silver bracket. The message before it, the one he had ignored, said—
“Now you’ll know what it’s like to lose something important, too.”
He felt it so clearly that the moment seemed to stretch forever — unadulterated, blistering rage. The overwhelming need to find the perpetrator and make them suffer slow, torturous destruction scorched through his veins and ignited his fingertips.
He clenched his phone, his knuckles gleaming white and his entire body beginning to quiver—
“Vivian?!”
A sharp gasp jolted him abruptly to his senses. Dread surged into Hugo’s throat as he anxiously lifted his head to check on his other partner.
Vivian stared back at him, her face pale and her eyes wide in horror. Tears streamed down her cheeks in thick, glistening rivulets.
“… No—”
She spoke first. She reached out, towards him, but Hugo took a step back. He didn’t know what kind of expression he was making right now — his entire body had become so frigid that he couldn’t feel his face — but whatever it was, it only seemed to worsen her panic.
“Hugo!”
“I have to go.”
His voice fell softly.
“You can’t!”
She lunged, grabbing a fistful of his sleeve with both hands. She clung to him, her voice fierce but trembling.
“I saw it, Hugo — I saw you. You can’t go.”
“I don’t have a choice—”
“You promised!” Her voice broke, shattering into the desperate, fearful cry of the girl who had once faced him alone on the dark street. “You said you’d never abandon me!”
A pang struck his chest, and Hugo returned to look her solemnly in the eyes.
“I won’t,” he murmured. “No matter what happens, I’ll come back to you. Even if it’s not in the same shape or form—”
“Shut up!” Vivian cried, yanking roughly on his sleeve. “Do you think I’d be okay with that?! Never seeing you again — never hearing you again—”
His conscience tore, the pain of it so excruciating that for a moment, Hugo couldn’t breathe. Lowering his hands, he gently pried her fingers from his sleeve and folded them into his own, clasping her pale, trembling fingers firmly within his own.
“No… you’re right.”
He exhaled slowly, pushing the air past his rabidly pounding heart.
“I don’t wish for you to lose anyone else.”
They stood there for a moment, fingers locked and trembling together beneath the chaos of their uneven breaths. Vivian’s tears dripped onto the floor in soft taps. His pulse thundered in his ears.
But as she began to catch her breath — as her trembling began to fade, and her tears began to thin—
Hugo pulled away.
“But I’m sorry.”
“Hugo!”
With a soft clatter, the door closed behind him.
Tearing out the part of him that withered at the sound of her scream, Hugo clenched his fists and opened his eyes to the abyss.
… I can’t lose him again.