The Royal Curd experience had been disheartening, to say the least. Charlotte had hoped to spend more time with Lorenzo or perhaps even get to know someone new, such as the kind man she had invited over, who had defended her at the beach without even knowing her. Yet, as she sat at the table picking at a scone, she had never felt more alone. Throughout the meal, she had spoken to Leo the most, her concern for him outweighing her own discomfort. Strange occurrences seemed to swirl around him, and every time she looked at him, Calbert's ominous words echoed in her mind, Leo's name glowing on that globe.
However, she knew the recent incidents had nothing to do with Calbert. The fury in that man's eyes conveyed that if he were to take action, it would be much more sinister. The thought of anyone doing something terrible to Leo, was deeply troubling to her, all despite the fact she was upset with his behavior today.
Eventually, the ordeal ended and she had been ever so thankful when she finally was able to crash into the couch in the den of her home. Delilah and Gilbert had not been home just yet, and the house was still. She laid on her back and stared up at the ceiling. However, as quiet as it all was, her mind was so loud it was practically screaming. There was so much for her to ponder over still and so little time. There were many questions, such as how she was to protect everyone from Calbert's threat... And then there was the question of how did it come to such a thing so quickly.
The mystery novels she read seemed so simple in comparison.
...I believe the issue is not all of this as intertwined as one might find in a novel. Kazumin and Persephone troubling Calbert and their connection to me were mere misfortunes. Perhaps I need to focus on the dynamic between Calbert, Lorenzo, and myself from the very beginning.The harrowing image of her mother's body sprawled on the grass intruded upon her thoughts, prompting Charlotte to rise from the couch and lean on her knees. She clutched them as she quietly pondered,
"Count Damien did not exhibit much interest in Lorenzo and me before my mother's death... In fact..."Champion, her loyal feline companion, sauntered in, responding to her voice. He hopped onto the table, his enormous eyes fixed on her with an almost human curiosity. Charlotte reached over to scratch behind his ear,
"I believe he began appearing more frequently here just before her demise. Then there's the fact that my aura seems to suggest magic has been cast on me..." Her gaze returned to her hands as she recalled the sight she had witnessed at the ball.
She knew deep in her soul that there was more to that can of worms, however she wasn't so sure she was ready to open it yet.
Her brows furrowed in deep thought, and a small smile eventually graced her lips. Leaning in, she confided in Champion,
"I think I was onto something from the start. I merely need to refine my detective skills to uncover the truth. Once I do, I can put an end to all this and ensure everyone's safety. It's not as if I have any real place in these courting events anyway, right, Champion?"Champion meowed in response, his eyes devoid of understanding but filled with affection.
Charlotte giggled softly,
"Oh, it's quite alright. You're a splendid listener.""Lottie."
The voice made her freeze, her pupils dilating as the hairs on her arms stood up.
It couldn't be.Though her mind struggled to process the moment, she noted with a flicker of curiosity that Champion hadn't reacted at all to the new presence. Not in the slightest.
Slowly, she dared to turn her head, her breath catching as she saw Duke Walter Vikena standing before her. He appeared clearer than she could ever remember, more detailed than any portrait she had ever gazed upon.
His face was striking, with high cheekbones and a strong jawline. His skin was fair and smooth, contrasting sharply with his dark, wavy hair that framed his face and fell just above his brooding, deep-set eyes. Those hazel eyes were clear as the sun poured in through the window. They seemed to hold a lifetime of wisdom and sorrow, were fixed on her with an intensity that made her heart pound. His lips, full and slightly parted, looked as if they were on the verge of speaking. He wore a dark suit just as he always had. More notable than all, he was as young as he had been the day he died.
Charlotte felt a whirlwind of emotions stir within her as she stood there, rooted to the spot. For a moment, all she could do was stare, her mind racing to reconcile the impossible sight before her.
"... Father?"Her voice did not seem to stir the man. Eventually, a warm smile did grace his features, and that kindness of his filled his eyes.
"Light of my life... Please follow me."
He had been so close yet his voice seemed so far away. He turned on his feet and she scrambled off the couch to follow him as he walked toward the stairs.
"Is it you? Are you here??" She lifted her skirts off the ground, trying to match his pace as she called after him, her heart pounding in her chest.
There was no response to her questions and his face did not even twitch.
"Where have you been, Father? Do you know what's going on? ..." Her voice grew more frantic as she hastened her steps, trying to catch up. She reached out, attempting to step in front of him, but he simply walked right through her, his form ethereal and unyielding. Her eyes caught sight of the way the sun seemed to be setting outside the grand windows they passed, yet it was the middle of the afternoon. But her mind didn't dwell on the anomaly. Instead, she clenched her fists and cried out,
"Please! ...Papa!?"Her desperation echoed in the vast hallway, the sound swallowed by the silence. Her father's figure continued down the corridor. The sunlight streaming through the windows cast long shadows.
As they approached her bedroom door, he reached out and turned the handle, revealing a room that was not as she had left it. The furniture was the same wood set she always had, but her bed was littered with stuffed animals, and the floor was a chaotic array of toys. A grand canopy hung from the ceiling over the bed, and porcelain dolls sat neatly on the window sill. Her lip quivered as her eyes set upon the sleeping beagle on the bed. Lottie hurried over, her eyes watering.
"Oh Buttercup... He's here..." A sigh made her gaze shift back to her father, who stood near her dresser.
"You've gone and left your toys all over the room again. You know your mother is going to give you a hard time when she sees... She'll say, 'Charlotte! Leaving messes is not becoming of a lady!'" His voice took on a lighter tone at the end of his statement as he imitated Emina with a chuckle, as he began to shuffle through his pocket, his expression saddening as the moment passed, "My apologies. I suppose it was my little Lottie who came in here like a tornado rather than... Well I presume you're all grown now, aren't you, darling?"
He continued to speak as he finally yanked a chain from his pocket, a heart-shaped silver locket spilling out at the end.
"Come toward me now and have a look, butterfly."
Her eyes watered as she stepped forward, her gaze falling on the locket. The silver amulet was adorned with elaborate, swirling patterns, and at its center, a delicate butterfly motif was etched in remarkable detail.
"I had it made just for you."
Walter gently opened the locket, revealing its intricate inner workings. The inside was just as beautiful as the exterior, if not more so. It held a mechanism that looked like the heart of a music box, with tiny gears and springs arranged inside. At the center was also a small sapphire butterfly.
"It plays our song if you just twist this pretty little butterfly here. I chose blue to match your lovely eyes, of course!"
The late Duke gave her a cheeky grin, and Charlotte couldn't help but smile faintly in return. He then proceeded to pat the top of the dresser.
"This top drawer has a false bottom. I'm placing this inside for you to find when the time is right. Once you put it on, never take it off. Ever. It will protect you in a very important way."
Walter opened the drawer, and the noise of shifting wood filled the air. He dropped the necklace inside. Without facing her, he spoke one final time as tears spilled down his cheeks.
"I promised I'd protect you forever... I know I won't be there in the way that's most important, but please, let me protect you in the ways I can."
As the end of his words reached her, she blinked, and the room darkened.
She was alone once more.
Charlotte stared at the dresser, her heart racing. Gathering her courage, she moved toward it. She began to open the drawer, chanting lowly under her breath,
"...I'm not crazy... I'm not crazy..." It felt familiar to reassure herself, but the more she tried to delve into why such a statement felt nostalgic, the more her mind resisted. As she pushed her hand through the folded clothes inside, her mind rhythmically flickered with glimpses of an empty dark room with white walls and no furniture.
But then, she felt the wood move and exhaled shakily. Soon, she grasped a cold, metal chain and plucked it out. The locket dangled from the chain as she held it out in front of her with wide eyes.
Charlotte glanced toward the window, her pupils still dilated with shock. The pitter-patter of the rain against the window filled the silence.
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