I stand before them, and it takes a lot of this body of mine to not show true feelings. Patchy must’ve noticed—as she often does—and though unapologetic, she has the decency to swivel her eyes away from me; this frustration would’ve boiled otherwise. “… You have contacted a creature beyond my comprehension, be that in shape and spirit, and whose powers casually have overwritten mine and Sakuya’s in the forest so we would not interfere; you have performed a ritual concerning such a creature that culminated in a dead child you want to keep hidden from Yukari Yakumo,” I pause, gaze lurking to the sleeping child. So very plain; so very hard to… gauge. “You have done all that under my nose, inside my manor—and you can not even tell me an ounce of what’s happening.” I finish, exasperation seeping into my expression, for in what world would it not? What is this circus?!

The bedroom is silent for a beat. Sakuya’s clothes ruffle slightly—even the perfect and elegant maid cannot stand wholly apathetic after that—and Patchy’s lethargic gaze returns to me. Meiling blushed, staring at Patchy and trusting, or maybe hoping, she’d take the lead. I cross my arms to hide a most annoying tremble; my nose crinkles, yet in my mind I can’t scrub the notion all of this is my fault: I failed them. They didn’t seek my help because I have unreliably tied our state, our might, to the leash that is the Yakumo.

Foolish, Remilia. Foolish…

“… Precisely, Remi,” Patchy says, hushed as if deliberately stopping herself from waking up the dead yet breathing child. “The secrecy must be kept for this child’s sake. I urge you to remember it won’t last forever; soon, you will know. Trust us, please.” She pleads, confident despite the pallor and dark circles under her eyes. Had she not slept properly? Or had the mysterious entity…?

Why bother asking if I know I won’t have answers?

A hand falls on my shoulder, and the implication I see in Sakuya’s cold eyes is one that sends shivers down my spine. Fear, a small and subdued thing, resounded from Patchy; Meiling remained poised, despite her silence. We all know what she is offering without the need of words. Interrogating or investigating the two of them for answers is a possibility, but bolting to the Human Village right now and feeding off every human in sight is also a possibility. Both promised only pain and hurt in the future, and I stopped a tired sigh from leaving me.

They’re my friends, not my subjects.

Friends trust each other.

Seeing her proposition wouldn’t be considered, Sakuya backed off with evergreen elegance. I uncrossed my arms, my eyes jumping between the trio ahead of me. “… I’ll be waiting, then.” I said, turning to leave the bedroom, the feelings fighting inside me like mad dogs. No reliable friend entangles another to a megalomaniacal woman; no friend gives in to fear and sells you.

“—Lady Remilia!”

My steps come to a halt, eyes fluttering to the gatekeeper now on her feet. Under my gaze she flushes, and her fingers fidget with one another; always a creature of passion and action first, thoughts come later. Patchy stares daggers at her, though the librarian doesn’t intervene.

The silence hangs for a moment before, finding her words, she speaks: “T-Thank you for your understanding! We… w-we have had harsh times since this whole thing began, and it’s not always that we can be straight with you, no matter how much we want to,” the reddish hue disappears slowly, hair and skin no longer matching. “… To be met with your acceptance, barren of judgment, is more than I could ever long for. T-This little girl will have a better life because of you—you are the best of friends!” She finishes with a bow, long crimson hair arcing forward and nearly snapping the air, as if a whip.

Inside, mad dogs are met with another fighter. One warm and caring.

They fight and fight.

There’s no victor, for the frustration is agonizing; the hurt deep and the fluttering of Meiling’s words—of Patchy’s gaze, whose softness is rare and treasurable—is rather precious.

It’s not always that she calls me a friend. How long has it been…?

I wish I could see my reflection in their pupils; I must look awfully cute with the smile that spreads across my face. Alas, a vampire. “Lift your head, Meiling. There’s no realistic fate where the residents of this mansion are mistreated by their mistress—don’t expect a light time, however, when the truth is laid bare,” I turn back to the doors, Sakuya following. “In due time, I'll extract from you two every juicy detail about the child whose facial features match yours.” I tease. It’s dubious the theory I craft in my mind of the child’s origins has ground. A virgin conceived Jesus Christ himself, and though I’m not expecting the second coming to happen anywhere near a pureblooded vampire—that human God wouldn’t be so cheeky—, I can’t help but muse.

I open the door, leaving with mad dogs fighting, yet slightly soothed.

Maybe their truths would be kind to my heart.