Daniel
I stood frozen, breathless, destabilized by the proximity, by what had just happened. Once again, I found myself caught in a trap I didn’t fully understand, yet I knew that something irreversible had just begun between us.
The door, which had opened suddenly, shattered the silence, but for a moment, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Claire. She was distant now, her arms crossed, as if she were protecting herself from something. I had the feeling I had crossed an invisible line, a line I wasn’t supposed to cross.The atmosphere was electric. Claire stood at a strategic, almost icy distance, as if she were recovering from the suspended moment. And I was frozen, my mind spinning. How had we ended up here?
The person who had just entered the room was a woman, probably Claire’s neighbor. She had an expression of surprise, but didn’t seem disturbed by the palpable tension between Claire and me. Claire glanced briefly at her, a flash of impatience in her eyes.
“Mademoiselle Rivière, excuse me, I didn’t mean to interrupt…” the woman said, quickly retreating to a corner of the apartment.
Claire straightened up, gradually regaining her composure. She seemed to take control of the situation again, recovering from what had just transpired. She turned her eyes toward me, and I saw something colder there, almost calculated. “Sorry, Inspector. This seems like a bad time. Perhaps it would be best to resume your investigation another day.”
A wave of frustration washed over me. I was on the verge of understanding something important, but it had all just collapsed. A mix of anger and desire bubbled up inside me, leaving me more confused than ever.
I stood up slowly, my eyes still fixed on Claire. “You’re not getting away with this, Claire.” My voice was harsher than I intended, but I couldn’t mask the tension boiling inside me. “You’re the only one who can help me solve this murder. And if you keep playing this game, I’ll have to take action.”
She looked at me, a faint smirk tugging at her lips, but her eyes were filled with the same uncertainty I had noticed earlier. Then, without a word, she gestured for the woman to leave the room.
Once alone, Claire turned toward me. “You have no idea what you’re looking for, Daniel.” Her words were both a challenge and an invitation. “There’s no simple answer to what you’re feeling. You’ve seen a part of me, but you don’t know anything about my reality.”
I shook my head, almost exasperated. “I’ve seen what you’ve shown me. But if you think I’m leaving without understanding, you’re mistaken. I will know. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
Silence fell between us, heavy and dense, but this time, it was different. It was a silence of acceptance, as if, despite our oppositions, we both knew something was already beginning to twist, to knot between us, in an irreversible way.
Claire slowly moved closer to me, her gaze still intense. “You still don’t understand, Daniel. You’re searching for the truth, but at what cost?” Her voice softened, almost a caress. “The truth can destroy everything you have.”
I looked at her, trying to understand. I knew she was trying to manipulate me, to make me doubt, but I was far more determined than she thought. What I felt for her no longer mattered at this point. What mattered was the investigation, the truth that was pushing me forward, no matter the cost.
Our gazes met, and for a split second, everything seemed to fade around us. The walls, the room, the events… everything dissolved, leaving only that strange connection. She, so close and yet so distant at the same time.
Then, abruptly, she turned away, breaking the moment. “You told me you were here to solve a murder, Daniel. So go ahead, do it. You’re not ready to hear what I have to say.”
I thought she was going to give in, but I felt a pang of disappointment. Yet, deep down, I knew she wasn’t ready either. Claire remained a mystery, an enigma I had to solve, but I could no longer allow her to slip away.
I made one last gesture, an attempt to regain control of the situation. “I’ll be back. This isn’t over, Claire. And you won’t escape the truth.”
She didn’t respond immediately, but her gaze darkened. She knew, too, that the inevitable was happening. We were already on a dangerous path, a path where the end seemed more uncertain with each passing moment.
When I finally left the apartment, the cold night air hit me. But my mind was elsewhere, consumed by contradictory thoughts. I didn’t have the answers I was looking for, but I had one certainty: I would return. I would return until Claire revealed everything to me, until I could understand what I felt for her.
One year laterIsadoraThe sea is calm today.I watch it from the high cliff, arms crossed in the salty wind. Below, the waves crash against the rocks with an almost reassuring constancy. Like an ancient heartbeat, unchanging. The world has changed, they say. But the sea remains.This is where I came to retreat after the fall of the Council. After the confessions, the judgments, the outbursts, and the decisions torn from fear. I did not flee. I simply chose silence after the war of truths. I was offered to stay, to take part in the reconstruction. I said no. I chose the cliff, the sea, the wind. I chose absence.The home where I now live is nothing like a mansion. An old white house, covered in ivy, clinging to the rock like a promise of resistance. It creaks sometimes at night, as if remembering past storms. I have learned to live without noise. To breathe without expecting the next explosion. To walk without fear behind me.But sometimes, in the silence, I see their faces again.Esp
IsadoraThe manor seems to breathe with me. Every step I take stirs up ancient dust, a repressed memory. The walls whisper. The portraits watch us. The floorboards groan as if they know that tonight, something is going to break.Helena walks to my left, her hands clenched around her gloves. Sofia follows me without a word. We are three women that the Empire would have wanted to silence. Three specters who refuse to be forgotten. Three beating hearts in a room full of ghosts.I move towards the grand gallery. Where it all began. Where decisions were made in the comfort of embroidered chairs, while the world bled. Where politics had lost all humanity. Only numbers remained. Acceptable losses. Imposed silences.— Are you sure? whispers Helena.I nod my head slowly. My fingers barely tremble.— They must hear. They must see. It’s not a question of choice. It’s a necessity.A necessity that burns inside me. I haven’t slept in three nights. Not really. I relive the scene over and over. The
IsadoraI cross the hall like a fallen heiress claiming what is due to her. Every painting recognizes me. Every dusty curtain trembles at my passing. I feel the stares. The whispers. The incredulity. I am the dead who returns. And I have come to seek my bones.The steps beneath my feet creak as if they want to stop me. But nothing will stop me. Neither the memories. Nor the pain. Nor him. I am more than what they tried to bury.Gabriel leads the way without looking back. He can no longer walk in front of me like a leader. He no longer has that right. He knows it. He is just a man. Worn. Silent. Guilty. And I have come to demand the verdict.The entire house seems to hold its breath. The walls know. They remember the muffled screams. The shouted orders. The betrayed promises.I let my fingers glide against the walls, up to this room. The dining room. How many times have I dreamed of returning here, not as a survivor, but as a witness? A witness to wh
GabrielI descend the manor stairs as one leaves a tomb. Each step creaks beneath my feet, as if the house itself protests my return. The corridors smell of dust, of endings, of memories. The walls are heavy with silence, the portraits stare at me like judges. But outside… Outside, there is something else.The wind is sharper. The air heavier. As if it carries a message that no one dares to read. Something has changed. Or maybe it is me. Perhaps it is this mourning that I still bear in silence. The one I buried with my orders and my silences.They are here. My men. Aligned like at a funeral. Silent. Frozen. Caps in hand. Eyes fixed to the ground. Soldiers without a war. Men without a leader. Or perhaps a leader without a soul.No one speaks. But I feel it. The whisper. The announcement. Something is coming. Or returning.— Sir, Matteo finally says, the oldest among them. He has seen death. He has dug graves. He has never faltered. But here, he hesitates. His voice trembles. As if he h
GabrielThe mansion is a tomb.Each room breathes the memory of an intimate war.I walk among the ruins, and my steps resonate like those of a ghost.The marble is cracked.The chandelier hangs askew, like a suspended corpse.The paintings are torn.Faceless, eyeless. Mouths frozen in a silent scream.The men no longer speak to me. They avoid me.They pass by without lifting their eyes.They may still obey me.But it is no longer loyalty.It is fear.Or shame.I climb the stairs.The steps creak under my weight, as if the house itself wants to push me away.Dried blood still clings to the walls.There is a streak, thin, almost erased, but I see it.I always see it.It is here that she screamed.Here that my hand closed too tightly around her arm.Here that I saw in her eyes something sharper than hatred.The end.I stop in front of the room she o
Daniel The smell of blood seeps into my nostrils. Not mine. The others'. The one I made flow.I am on my knees. My hands are red. My eyes are empty. She is gone. And it’s my fault.The silence around me is deafening. Not a breath. Not a step. Only the echo of my mistakes, beating against my temples like war drums. I see her footsteps in the dust. Her eyes. That void in her eyes, as if I were nothing more than another monster in her story.I would have liked to scream. Call her. Go back. But my vocal cords are dead strings. My throat, a grave. It’s over. She saw me as I truly am. And I am not the man she hoped for.I reach out towards the farthest bloodstain. Maybe it’s hers. Maybe not. But it burns my fingers as if it were my own heart, shattered there on the ground, too late.Gabriel Somewhere in the manor, I scream. I don’t even know what I'm shouting. Orders. Names. Insults. Memories.My voice, shattered by rage and pain, vibrates the walls. The window