"You look better."
"I feel better," Ethan said, allowing his voice to carry just a touch more warmth than usual.
Roy studied his face carefully,unhurried, lingering far too long.
His gaze slid across Ethan's cheekbones, his lips, his eyes, as though searching for something.
Then, suddenly, he stepped forward and placed a palm on Ethan's shoulder.
Ethan forced himself not to tense.
Breathing even. Pulse under control.
Roy leaned in slightly, as though about to share something confidential.
"You do understand that today is an important day?" he murmured, almost a whisper.
"I understand."
"And that your words could change a great many things?"
"That's exactly why I'm here."
Roy tilted his head, as though listening to something inside him,to the beat of Ethan's heart, to his breathing, to things ordinary humans could not hear.
For a fraction of a second his brows twitched almost imperceptibly.
Naturally, Roy suspected nothing. He didn't even sense the wisteria coursing through Ethan's veins.
Ethan felt a warm pulse travel through his bloodstream,light, almost pleasant.
Roy withdrew his hand.
The smile returned, though now it was a fraction thinner.
"Good," he said.
"Come. They want to see you."
Ethan nodded.
They moved toward the center of the hall.
With every step the surrounding noise seemed to recede: the laughter of guests, the clink of glasses, the soft background music,all of it faded into a muted, distant hum.
Ahead, by the stage, Gérard already stood.
He was looking straight at them.
As though he had been waiting precisely for this moment and had always known it would come.
His silver hair caught the chandelier light; his face remained utterly still.
The chandelier glow lay across Gérard's hair like cold silver, accentuating its almost unnatural sheen, as though every strand had been cast from lunar metal.
He stood motionless, one hand resting lightly on the back of a chair,fingers relaxed yet precise, like a conductor's before the first downbeat,while the other hung freely at his side.
No tension in the shoulders, no restlessness in his posture. Only anticipation,deep, ancient,as though he already knew every step the others would take before they themselves had thought of it.
Roy slowed his pace, as though aligning himself with the invisible rhythm of the evening's host. His shoes clicked softly against the marble; the echo spread, then dissolved into the general murmur of the hall.
"Monsieur De Millier," he said gently, inclining his head in a slight, respectful bow.
"Our guest."
Gérard shifted his gaze from Roy to Ethan,slowly, deliberately, as though turning the page of an ancient book.
"Ethan," he said. His voice was even, deep, almost velvety, carrying the faintest trace of an accent.
"I'm pleased you accepted the invitation."
Ethan stopped a few paces away and inclined his head just enough for the gesture to appear respectful without being submissive. The corner of his mouth twitched into a strained smile.
"Thank you for allowing me to be here."
Corvin stood slightly to Gérard's right. His eyes were sharp, hooked, sinking into flesh like barbs.
He did not smile; his face remained motionless.
"A bold move," he said, his voice dry as an autumn leaf.
"After… the misunderstandings."
The loaded words hung in the air.
"I want to close that chapter," Ethan replied calmly, not allowing his voice to waver.
"And do it properly."
Michael Reeves gave a quiet snort, swirling the dark wine in his glass. The liquid caught the light, throwing ruby glints across his fingers.
"People rarely want to close such matters," he remarked lazily, a faint smirk playing on his lips.
"They usually want new ones."
"Sometimes new beginnings start with acknowledging old mistakes," Ethan said, holding his gaze steady, letting the words leave his mouth naturally.
Gérard watched in silence, not intervening. His fingers tapped lightly against the chair back,the only sign of thought.
"Do you remember what you said back then?" he asked softly, almost solicitously, though steel ran beneath the tone.
"No," Ethan answered after a measured pause. "I don't even remember what you're referring to.
I don't remember anything at all,as though I got drunk one day and forgot everything."
Elizabeth Crawford stepped closer. Her movements were fluid, almost feline; her heels clicked softly against the floor, and the air around her filled with a light perfume,sweet, edged with metallic freshness.
She tilted her head, studying Ethan like a rare specimen.
"And how do you feel now, darling?" she asked. Her voice was melodic, yet carried an undertone.
"Fear," Ethan said after a brief pause, letting his tone grow more intimate.
"And confusion."
"And now?" she pressed, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly, catching the tiniest shift in his pupils.
"Now,calm," he answered, forcing himself to meet her gaze directly.
"And acceptance. I really like your eyes," Ethan added, leaning into the game, even attempting to unsettle the vampire with his words.
The woman froze for a moment. Compliments from men were foreign to her; it had been a very long time since anyone had dared.
She actually blushed,visibly flustered.
Roy's lips curved in a faint smile, though his eyes remained cold.
"You see?" he said, turning to Gérard. "I told you he just needed time."
Gérard took a step forward,light, yet the space around them seemed to contract. The air grew heavier, thicker.
Cameras in the hall slowly swiveled; operators hunted for the best angle. Camera flashes flickered like distant lightning.