Ishnofel watched Carmilla from a distance. Neon lights flickered over the wet asphalt, casting shadows that moved around her, embracing each of her steps. He knew very well she didn't want him near… and yet, his heart refused to walk away. In secret, he had saved her twice, when certain Sinners had tried to end her life. His chains had dragged those enemies to their end, without Carmilla ever knowing.
She, for her part, made efforts to forget him. She drew close again to Zestial, her friend, trying to fill with his company the void Ishnofel had left behind. But no matter how hard she tried to move on, her heart resisted forgetting the demon who had marked her life.
— If she's happy with him… why should I interfere? — Ishnofel murmured, his footsteps echoing over the damp cobblestones of Cannibal Town —. Maybe I should let her go… but he couldn't.
Lost in his thoughts, he didn't realize he had reached the district until he bumped into someone.
Before him stood Rosie: tall, slender, with pale gray skin and black lips that contrasted with her pink teeth. Her short white hair with pink streaks fell elegantly around her face. Her completely black eyes looked at him with calm depth. She wore an outfit styled after the 1910s: a burgundy and black dress, heels that echoed softly on the sidewalk, and a large hat that absorbed the light of the flickering streetlamps, creating an almost spectral aura around her.
— Oh! I'm sorry… I didn't see you — Ishnofel said, slightly dazed, as the light night mist swirled around his feet.
— It's quite alright, dear — Rosie replied, rising gracefully as she dusted off her dress —.
— I lost track of… everything — Ishnofel whispered, his voice thin, feeling that admitting it already eased his burden a little.
Rosie smiled gently, unhurried, and offered him a gesture inviting him to follow her. The streetlights reflected glimmers on her hat and dress, as if the city itself conspired to wrap them in a fleeting refuge.
— Come… let's have some tea. We can talk a little — she said, and her warm tone made Ishnofel feel curious and safe at the same time.
He walked after her, letting his footsteps blend with the strange, quiet rhythm of the district. Every alley murmured forgotten stories: graffiti that seemed to move beneath the fog, puddles reflecting distorted lights, and lit windows showing fleeting scenes of lives he could not touch. At last they arrived at a small refuge, a cozy and warm space in contrast with the harshness outside: worn wood furniture, flickering candles, and the aroma of freshly brewed tea created a haven of calm.
— Sit down, make yourself comfortable — Rosie said, arranging the table as the scent of tea filled the room, mixing with the faint smell of fireplace smoke.
As she poured the cups, she looked at him with curiosity and patience. There was no judgment, only attention.
— What were you thinking about? — she asked softly, as if weighing each word before letting it go.
— About Carmilla… — Ishnofel said, lowering his gaze —. I like her, but… she doesn't want to see me after everything I did.
Rosie nodded, listening without interrupting, while candlelight cast dancing shadows across their faces.
— Carmilla may be cold sometimes, but… she loves her family — she finally said, her tone calm and serious, letting her words linger in the air before continuing —. Not everything is lost.
— I know… — Ishnofel murmured, letting out a sigh —. It's just… complicated. Everything that remained between us… I don't know how to fix it.
A comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by sips of tea and the soft crackling of the fireplace. Words were not always necessary; sometimes, silence said more than any confession.
When Ishnofel finally said goodbye, he walked back to I.M.P beneath the fog embracing the empty streets. Each step echoed among old buildings, reflecting yellowish lights in puddles like shattered mirrors, reminding him that even demons carry impossible decisions and desires impossible to reach