All Chapters of Until The Last Day: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

The corridor slammed shut like a set of jaws. Darkness surged over, engulfing the whiteness. The air grew heavy, pressing down on Camela’s chest until each breath felt painful. Hundreds of eyes glared at her from the creeping shadows, blinking in unison like a massive beast breathing. Vincent's claws gripped her wrist tightly, keeping her steady as he whispered, “Don't move.” Camela’s blind eyes glowed faintly, but she trembled with fear. “They’re…staring only at me,” she whispered.The voice returned, softer now, echoing through her bones. “Because you were the only one who left the window open.” Camela shook her head vigorously. “No. I closed it. I shut it when I buried her…when I turned away…” The shadows leaned in closer, their countless eyes sparkling in the darkness. “No window stays closed for long…not when silence lingers outside.” One of the taller shadows moved forward, its shape flickering like smoke. An eye opened wide across its chest, staring without blinking. Vi

The steam curled around Camela’s lips. Her throat felt like it was on fire, and the scar on her chest split wider with light spilling like blood. Vincent's claws pressed into her arms, his voice was rough and shaky. “Drink it, Camela. If you don’t, it will consume me completely.” Her hands shook, her breath hitching in her throat. “But if I do…it will consume us both.” The cup rattled on the table as if mocking her, while the white walls echoed with her father's words: “You have no choice but to drink. You’ve already swallowed silence; this is its remnant.” Camela’s blind eyes widened in fear. Her body trembled like fragile glass about to break. “No! No, I can still fight. I don’t want his remnants inside me,” she said with determination.Vincent leaned in closer, his lips almost touching her lips as he spoke in a low, urgent voice. “Then let's take it together. We’ll carry the remnants as one. If it kills you, it will kill me too.” The steam pushed harder against her lips, for

The mirrors shattered. Glass sliced through the night like rain made of blades. Camela held onto Vincent as the shards fell, with every reflection of her face shrieking in unison:“YOU CAN’T ESCAPE!” Vincent wrapped his arms around her, his claws flashing as he tried to break the pieces that came too close. But there were too many. The sound of shattering glass thundered in their ears, sharper than fire and louder than the foxes' howls. Then—silence envelopes the atmosphere. Camela inhaled sharply, her hands feeling Vincent’s chest as her breath shook. “Are we dead?” she asked.He held her tighter and growled softly under his breath as he replied, “No. Not yet.” She raised her head, sensing the stillness in the air, which felt heavy and thick. She felt no shards cutting into her skin or dirt beneath her knees—only emptiness surrounded them. “Vincent…” she whispered. “Where are we?” They found themselves in a white room—not stone, wood, or sky. It was just an endless expanse of

The howls echoed through the trees, sharp and endless, like blades against bone. Vincent's claws dug into the dirt as he pulled Camela closer to him. His chest rose and fell rapidly, but her body felt hot with energy under his touch. Her blind eyes radiated a faint white glow, and the scar on her chest flared up like fire. As her mouth moved, two voices spoke at once—hers and that of the perfect bride: “Survival is not living, fox. Which one will you let die?” Vincent gritted his teeth as he responded, “Neither! You’re both wrong. She’s not dying, and she doesn’t belong to you.” But Camela’s head tilted slightly, as though another presence was looking out through her eyes. For the first time, she whispered back, trembling: “Vincent…I can see you.” Vincent froze, his heart racing. “What did you say?” he asked.Camela’s glowing eyes grew wider, shinier and uncertain. “I see you. I’m blind, but I see you. You’re…” She reached up to touch his jaw. “You’re made of blood and fire. You

The air was filled with the foxes' haunting howls. Vincent stood still, his body as tense as a drawn bow. On one side was Camela, trembling with her blind eyes wide open, clutching her throat in fear. On the other side stood the veiled woman, pale and bound in chains, her glow shining like fireflies in the dark. Both voices responded, each claiming to be Camela. As the night closed in around them, it waited for him to decide. Vincent growled softly, a raw sound escaping him. “This is just another trick.” The veiled woman tilted her head, her chains clinking softly. Her blind eyes glowed fiercely white. “Not a trick,” she said. “It's just the truth. One of us is whole and the other is missing pages.” Camela gasped and stumbled back. “Vincent, don’t believe her…she’s not me…” But rather he heard her father’s whisper through her scar—a faint, amused voice. “Ah…missing pages. What a clever name.” Vincent's eyes flicked between them. “Pages? What does that mean?” he asked.The veile