All Chapters of Until The Last Day: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

The darkness roared like a living creature. Vincent’s claws scraped against the stone, his body trembling with rage. The ghost's whisper still lingered in his ears: “She brought this upon herself.” He clenched his jaw, and he breathed heavily in the silence while he murmured, “No…no, she didn’t.”But the glove twitched again, looking like it had a mind of itself. Red veins spread across its surface, pulsing like a heartbeat. Then he heard a voice, Camela’s voice—it sounded soft and weak. “Vincent…I did.” He turned his head sharply toward the sound, his golden eyes blazing as he responded, “Don’t say that! Don’t you dare say that!” The air shifted as a light flickered in the distance, dim and cold. Slowly, Camela appeared before him. She stood at the edge of the dark chamber, bound in chains and dragging her restraints along the floor. Her face was pale, and her scar glowed faintly white on her chest. Her lips quivered as she spoke again in a whisper. “It’s true…I brought it up

The chains tightened around Vincent’s legs, constricting like a vise. Below him, the coffin gaped open like a ravenous mouth, revealing his own lifeless body staring back at him. Its golden eyes were dull, and its claws lay curled in eerie stillness. Camela clawed at his arm, her voice trembling with emotion. “Vincent, don’t let it drag you down!” Vincent snarled, baring his teeth as he strained every muscle against the pressure. “It’s not real! It can’t be real!” But the ghost's laughter sliced through the darkness like a sharp blade. “Isn’t it? Fox…look closely. You’re already dead. You’re nothing more than a memory to her now.” Camela shook her head vigorously, tears streaming down her cheeks. “No! He’s not dead. He’s right here with me. He’s real. He’s…” She said. The coffin creaked ominously as chains whipped higher, wrapped tighter around Vincent’s waist. The lifeless version of himself below stirred slightly, its lips curling into what seemed like a mocking grin. Suddenly

The ground slammed shut above Vincent's head. Darkness pressed down on him, suffocating and swallowing every breath he took. His claws scraped against the stone, sending sparks flying, but the darkness around him did not break. He let out a roar, but the sound was silenced before it could escape his throat. “Camela!” his voice trembled. “Camela!” There was no reply. Just silence. Then, ashes began to fall—not from above, but from the air around him. Soft gray flakes floated by his face, glowing faintly like dying embers. He reached out to catch one, but it turned to dust in his claws. The ashes whispered. Each tiny piece carried a voice—some were crying, some laughing, and some pleading. Among them was one he recognized better than his own heartbeat. “Vincent…” It was Camela’s voice. His heart shattered as he whispered, “Camela…where are you?” The ashes swirled faster, forming a spiral in the darkness. They came together into a shape—thin, fragile, and broken. It was her. Cam

The knocking grew louder. Thud. Thud. Thud. Vincent dug his claws into the soil, his chest rising and falling rapidly. The shovel gleamed beside him, cold and heavy in the dim light. His golden eyes were fixed on the grave. From beneath the soil, her voice came once more—muffled and broken. "Vincent...why are you standing over me?" she asked.He stumbled closer, every muscle quivering with tension. "Camela?" His voice shattered like glass. The soil shifted as a hand broke through—pale, trembling, and covered in dirt. Her wedding band still hung on her finger. "Help me," she pleaded softly. "Please." Vincent let out a roar, desperately clawing at the soil, tearing it apart with frantic energy. Dirt flew everywhere as he dug, his arms shaking under the strain. The soil resisted him, collapsing inward and swallowing her voice once more. "Stay with me!" he shouted, his claws bleeding as he fought to remove the soil. Her hand slipped back down into the depths below. The ground seale

The house creaked as if it were alive. Each breath Vincent drew was heavy with dust, choking his breath. His claws twitched at his sides, while his chest rose and fell heavily like a caged beast. On the table lay the letter, with one word written in Camela’s shaky handwriting: “Goodbye.” Suddenly, the door behind him creaked open wider. Footsteps entered—slow and deliberate steps. Vincent turned around sharply, his golden eyes blazing with intensity. “Who’s there?” he asked.No response came; only the creaking sound of wood and the stillness of the air shifting that felt as if someone invisible moved around him. The letter trembled in his claws as he spoke in a low growl. “If you touched her…if you forced her to write this…” A calm, smooth male voice cut him off. “I didn’t force her. She made her own choice.” Vincent bared his teeth in anger. “That’s a lie!” he roared.The figure stepped into the dim light—it was the same stranger, the same shadow that had haunted both of them