— A Melody for the Fated —
He moved toward the bed, then suddenly turned back.
When he returned, a violin was cradled in his arms.
Adrian—
or rather, the presence now occupying this vessel—
carefully placed the instrument on the table, settled into a chair, and raised the bow.
The first note struck me with unexpected stillness.
The melody was gentle and ethereal, like the first breath of fate drawing near.
It was not showy, but precise and restrained—
I recognized it. Massenet's "Méditation."
The notes unfurled, one by one, as if confirming something, or perhaps awaiting a response.
When the piece ended, I was left momentarily adrift.
"Sir... was my playing to your liking?"
A woman's voice, cool yet soft, drew me back to the present.
I realized then that "Adrian" was looking at me.
Those eyes were fixed squarely on me.
The voice had come from him—
yet it unquestionably belonged to a young woman.
She could see me.
I focused, studying her gaze.
It was not Adrian's.
Those eyes were clear and steady, holding a quiet calm, as if she had finally been understood.
"Who are you?" I asked, my voice low. "Why are you inside Adrian?"
"Adrian" gave a light, muffled laugh behind his hand, offering no answer. Instead, he—she—asked softly in return:
"Sir... did it please you?"
Her voice was softer than the music, yet a chill traced my spine.
After a brief silence, I nodded.
"...It did."
"I thought as much—you have the ear of a connoisseur."
A deeper smile touched her lips. "This piece... is for the fated one."
She turned slightly and lifted the bow once more.
A second melody began to flow.
Expansive and timeless, like a vow whispered again and again—
Bach's "Air on the G String."
"Sir asked earlier... why I am within him?"
Her voice wove between the notes:
"My name is Elena. He is my husband. My lawfully wedded husband."
The music did not break, holding no trace of hesitation now.
"We are merely... sharing this one abode."
Husband.
The word landed heavily within me.
"You... were once a spirit?" I asked.
She did not answer immediately.
A third piece began.
Pure and solemn, a confirmation that seemed to cross the boundary of life and death—
Schubert's "Ave Maria."
It ended.
"Yes," she whispered.
"I once belonged to the Netherworld."
She paused.
"But now...am not."
---
— The Unreturned Spirit —
A thought flashed through my mind like cold lightning.
"Is it a conjoined state?" I asked, my eyes locked on hers. "Life and afterlife, fused?"
She did not reply. Instead, she placed the bow upon the strings once more.
This time, the music transformed.
Gone was the gentleness. It became frantic, violent.
Screeching notes tore through the air, and I tensed. As the furious playing escalated, her eyes began to tinge with crimson. A chaotic, powerful force churned inside the vessel, threatening to shatter it from within.
She raised her gaze to meet mine.
Just meeting her eyes, the anger felt almost tangible.
"A conjoined state..." she murmured, then let out a low, cold laugh. "You wish to drive me out? To make me leave this body?"
Before I could speak, she was on her feet.
I saw it clearly now—A thick, swirling black mist roiled above her head.
Baleful energy.
Cold sweat dampened my palm, but I forced myself to stand my ground.
My hand slipped into my pocket, fingers closing around the Lumin & Umbra Sigil. A wave of warmth spread through my veins, steadying my mind.
"You will not kill me," I said, meeting her gaze directly. "And I am not here to banish you. I am here to help."
She faltered.
Then she laughed.
"Help?"
The sound was dripping with scorn. "You exorcists always say that. Flaunting your skills, you shatter wandering spirits like us to dust, then climb to fame upon our ashes."
"I need no help."
Her gaze was icy and stubborn. "I have waited centuries for this moment. I will not leave this body."
"That is not what I—"
"Do you know how long it took me to enter this vessel?" she cut me off, her tone sharpening.
"Eleven years."
She let the number hang in the air. "Hiding by his side, avoiding exorcists, avoiding things more vicious than I... Finally, to share this existence—and you ask me to leave?"
"Ridiculous."
I took a steadying breath and didn't argue further. Instead, I posed a question of my own:
"If you truly needed no help... why only render those bodyguards unconscious?"
She stiffened.
"If you truly wished to take lives, to consume souls... with your power, it would not be difficult," I continued. "Adrian's own soul... would not have lasted until today."
Silence stretched through the room.
Her anger gradually receded, the baleful energy dissipating with it.
Her eyes cleared again, now holding a measured scrutiny.
"It seems... you are indeed different," she said quietly. "No wonder I scent no bloodlust upon you."
She hesitated.
"Are you... with the Meta Order?"
"No," I replied truthfully. "I'm from the countryside. What I know was taught by my grandfather. I know nothing of the Meta Order."
A flicker of disappointment crossed her eyes, followed by a bitter smile.
"Then you can't help me."
She paused.
"This matter... only the Meta Order can resolve it."
I was silent for a moment before looking at her anew.
"If this continues, Adrian will die."
"And you... will scatter to the winds."
"Centuries of waiting... for an end like this. Are you content?"
She did not refute it.
A conjoined state could only lead to reincarnation if truly fused. And she... clearly had not succeeded.
"Tell me," I said. "How can I help you?"
Elena looked at me, her gaze serious yet uncertain.
"You would truly do this?"
"Even if... it might cost your life?"
"Our meeting was not without reason," I said, nodding. "If I can help, I will."
She was silent for a long time before finally speaking.
"My spirit has merged with his flesh."
"But this mortal vessel... cannot withstand my essence."
"For the fusion to complete... he must wed me."
"Bound by my soul-bound bone."
Her voice was low and clear:
"He must wear my Spirit Bone. Only then can my soul find true anchor."
"Otherwise...will ultimately turn to ash."
"Where is your remains?" I asked.
She closed her eyes, as if sifting through fragmented memories.
A long moment passed before she whispered:
"Ashcroft..."
"My memory is unclear...only remember that name."
I committed it silently to mind.
"How did you die?" I asked next.
Elena's eyes snapped open.
A fierce, dark energy surged within them.
"I remember."
Her voice dropped to a ragged whisper. "Even if I wandered as a ghost for ten thousand more years...would not forget."
As the words left her, the lights in the room suddenly flickered wildly, buzzing and sputtering like an old wound about to be torn open.