Tucking the paper into his pocket, Alphard didn't hesitate to ask for one more favor.
"Mrs. Villeroy, could I use your bathroom?"
His voice came out contrite, and he looked off to the side, trying to hide the faint embarrassment he felt.
"Of course."
Leaving the kitchen behind, Alphard made his way to the staircase and climbed to the second floor, the muffled creak of the wooden steps trailing him as he crossed the upper hallway in search of the bathroom.
Spotting a large door, he stepped inside and did what he'd come to do. But as he washed his hands, a strange sound caught his attention, echoing faintly from somewhere down the hall.
Along that same corridor sat Virginia's parents' room, and her own — where his sister currently was as well.
He walked toward the sound, his steps firm but quiet, trying to trace where it was coming from.
I feel like I'm losing my mind.
Worn down by the day, a sharp, electric headache split through what little calm he had left. Still, he knew — after everything strange that had already happened, on top of the transmigration itself — that this was far from normal.
He heard a door creak open, and his heart pounded in time with the long, agonized groan of the hinges, stretched thin across the silence like a blade dragged slowly through it.
At the same moment, the weight of footsteps on the floorboards drew out a low, muffled protest from beneath them, each step releasing a dry, dampened creak.
"Alphard?"
Like smoke scattering on the wind, his sense of dread vanished the instant Virginia's father stepped out of the room the sound had come from.
"My apologies, Mr. Villeroy — I was in the bathroom, and I thought something might have happened, given how strange the noise sounded."
Villeroy smiled faintly, showing no sign of worry or irritation — if anything, he broke into outright laughter at Alphard's expense.
"Don't worry about it. I was just rearranging a few things. Still as jumpy as ever, aren't you?"
The words landed heavily in Alphard's mind as he took in the man's reaction.
Does that mean Alphard was always this easily spooked — even as an adult? Then how did he end up dead? Unless... he really was just an innocent bystander in all of it.
"Some things never change, I suppose. If you'll excuse me, I'll head back down to the sitting room."
He picked up his pace, his steps quick and uneven, each one striking the floor with a rhythm too hurried to pass for composure, betraying the unease eating away at him from the inside.
Reaching the ground floor, he wasted no time grabbing his cane and heading for the door. But Mrs. Villeroy caught the urgency in his manner and, growing concerned, crossed the room to reach him before he could leave.
"Is something wrong, Alphard? Why are you sweating so much?"
He turned, meeting her eyes, and with as much confidence as he could muster, assured her nothing unusual had happened. Still, he answered her question all the same, if only to keep suspicion at bay.
"I need to head home to take care of a few things. If I don't make it back, let Helena know I'll be waiting for her with Uncle Alexi — and thank you for having me."
With that, he took his leave, walking at an easy, unhurried pace, careful to leave no room for doubt about anything being wrong.
As he made his way through the different neighborhoods, his mind drifted into hazy fragments of his old life, a fervent longing to go home settling deep in his chest.
I miss my family. I even miss my idiot friend. Can I actually get back? I don't know. But I have to find a way. I'm exhausted.
Reaching a bench near a park, he lifted his gaze to the sky, where a beautiful sunset spread its light across everything around him.
The sun began its slow descent toward the horizon, bathing the landscape in a warm, coppery glow. The last slanted rays of afternoon light bled into the clouds, staining them in veils of gold and violet as shadows stretched gently across the rooftops and the ground below.
His thoughts sank once more into a deep memory of his family — a night spent having dinner with his parents and his younger brother. His last night with them, before he woke beneath that vast crimson moon.
If it weren't for the moon being red, I could almost convince myself I'd simply traveled back in time.
He pulled out the paper with the address written on it, weighing for a moment whether to head there right away. In the end, he stood and walked home at a measured pace instead.
His exhaustion, and the anxiety still coiled tight in his chest, couldn't survive another bizarre encounter tonight.
By the time he reached the threshold of his house, the horizon held onto nothing but a thin, dying thread of cobalt light. The sunset had all but burned out, giving way to a heavy night as the gas lamps along the street began to sputter to life, casting their first warm pools of light across the damp cobblestones.
Stepping inside, he was met with a warmth that, somehow, settled him almost completely despite the dim quiet surrounding him.
The darkness of the entryway broke only where a faint yellow glow spilled from the sitting room. Alphard felt along the wall beside the corridor until his fingers found the small brass valve, turned it, and struck a match; with a soft click and a nearly silent hiss, the flame caught inside the frosted glass shade, casting a circle of light across the hallway's wallpaper and stretching his own shadow long against the walls.
Climbing to the second floor, the light from below thinned into little more than a faint reflection. The upper floor sat mostly in darkness, held back only by a single low gas lamp set halfway down the corridor.
The weak flame flickered faintly behind its frosted glass, throwing long, warped shadows across each closed door along the hall.
Alexi's not back yet, I guess. He must still be out. I hope they both get home before I fall asleep.
Reaching his room, he wasted no time lighting his own lamp, shrugging off his coat to hang it in the wardrobe, but not before pulling the address from his pocket and tucking it into the nightstand, beside the card the strange man had given him earlier.
Setting the matter aside entirely, he shut the drawer and lifted the edge of the mattress to retrieve his note, written in Japanese.
As if trying to touch the words themselves, he ran his fingers gently over the letters he'd written. The note held nothing urgent, nothing important — just a reminder of where he'd come from, where he wanted to return to, and a way to keep himself from forgetting.
Tomorrow I'll buy meat to cook for dinner.
A heavy wave of grief settled into his chest, blurring his vision with the faint shine of tears he fought to keep from spilling down his cheeks.
A stifled sob broke the quiet of the room. Worn down by the weight of his sorrow, sleep claimed him before long, while outside the window, the furious drumming of a downpour swallowed every other sound the night might have carried.
Meanwhile, a soaked Helena stepped into the house, cradling a covered dish against her chest, sealed beneath a second, upturned bowl. With her free hand, she pushed back the hair the wind and rain had tangled across her face.
She crossed to the kitchen with firm strides and set the dish down on the marble counter with a solid but careful thud.
"Unbelievable. I'll have to change out of these clothes. I just hope my hair dries in time."
Without a second thought, she hurried up the stairs to her room and changed quickly enough — though her hair, still soaked through, would take far longer to dry.
Slipping into her house shoes, she took up her lamp and walked to Alphard's room, where she found him already asleep from a distance. Just as she had the night before, she crossed the room to put out his gas lamp. This time, though, she noticed a note that struck her as strange.
"What is this? Is this... writing? Or some kind of drawing?"
Studying it closely, she couldn't shake a strange feeling. These past few days, Alphard had been acting in ways that were, from where she stood, deeply out of character — and it worried her more than she wanted to admit.
"Does he have a girlfriend? I'll find out tomorrow."
Tucking the slip of paper away, she said goodnight to her brother with a kiss on his forehead and went off to sleep.
Alexi arrived not long after. Soaked clean through from the storm, he slipped into the house without making a sound.
Stepping into the kitchen, his eyes landed on the generous plate waiting for him on the counter. Without a moment's hesitation, he made quick, eager work of the meal before retreating to bed to rest.
The next day, radiant sunlight poured across the city from one end to the other. The morning rays burned off the last traces of night's mist, filtering through windowpanes to bathe every bedroom, every corner of the capital, in warm light.
Feeling that same warmth spread through his whole body, Alphard woke as the light grew stronger against his eyes, until it became too much to ignore.