Bloodstained Celeste Room 소설 & 이야기

Celeste said, her voice lower now, “don’t let them see the sadness. They smell blood faster than wolves.” Liara nodded once. “What if I show them fire instead?” Celeste’s lips curved, approving. “Then burn bright, darling. Just don’t forget who’s watching.” With a final clink of her glass against the marble column, Celeste slipped past her and disappeared down the hall, the scent of jasmine trailing behind her like a secret. The double doors of the council chamber loomed ahead—polished oak carved with the Kane insignia: a serpent curled around a dagger.

I think Celeste is here on the other side because the computer room is also her next room. I left the computer room and knocked on the other door. I heard her annoyance because she was talking to someone on the other line. "Arghh! Stop this bullshit, Rovic!" I heard her voice churning with anger. I knocked and it suddenly went silent. I opened the door and at the same time her hot fist hit my jaw. Ouch! I got caught on my cheek because of that. When I looked at her, her eyes were very red. She looks like a vampire and sometimes it turns pure black with no white left. But it's really pure black. She was panting and I was suddenly worried because of that.

The he‌avy oak doors were tigh⁠tly closed, the thick velvet curta‌ins drawin⁠g th⁠e ro‌om i‍nto a deep, ar​tificial twilight that smelled‍ of ol⁠d p‌aper and leat‌her. A soft, distinct cli⁠ck echoed through the d​ark‍n‍e​ss near the back wal‌l​. Th‌e hid​den architectur​al panel located behind the‍ historica​l p⁠hilosophy books⁠helve‌s s‌lid open s‌moothly, and Celeste stepped into the room. She w‍as wear⁠ing a sleek,‍ black tactical jumps⁠uit, her long dark hair pul‍led back into a tight, professional‌ braid. In her right⁠ hand, she held a​ compact silence​d pistol; in he⁠r left, s‍he​ gripped t⁠he e⁠ncrypte⁠d black keycard Ali⁠stair had‌ given he‍r under the bridge.

When I lifted my head to meet her eyes, she was glaring at me like she wished they could shoot daggers. Something cold ran down my spine. She let me take her hand anyway, and we walked out of the bathroom. The second we came out to the long corridor, Celeste shoved me off her then proceeded to do the most out-of-touch thing I had ever witnessed her do. She wiped my kiss off her cheeks with a passion that rattled me, as though my mouth was cancerous. “I didn't appreciate that. You don't have to help me. It's not in our agreement.”

Charms glowed faintly at her wrists, pulsing with containment magic etched deep by the elders. The fight was over. At least this one. Now the fight was for her life. ** The room was dim, lit only by the fire low in the hearth and a few soft-glowing lanterns tucked in the corners. The scent of burnt herbs and crushed frostmint hung in the air. A bowl of warm water sat beside the healer’s tools, stained pale pink. Celeste lay still. Her breathing was steady, if shallow. A sheen of sweat clung to her brow. The moonstone dagger still sat embedded just above her heart, wrapped in layers of silver-thread bandages and salve-soaked cloth. Each breath was a fragile victory.

I wake up gasping. My sheets are drenched in sweat, my body shaking so hard my teeth chatter. The room is dark, but I swear I can still see it—the blood, the bodies, Celeste’s terrified eyes disappearing into that box. I squeeze my eyes shut, but it doesn’t help. The images are burned into my mind, playing on repeat, a nightmare that won’t end just because I’ve woken up. Celeste is gone. And I helped make it happen.

But now, she gets to have her own house laboratory. In the basement, there's a room for her office, and adjacent to it is her laboratory filled with advanced equipment essential for her current research. After inspecting everything, she went up to check the rooms with Zara. All of the rooms are fully furnished, including Celeste's playroom. She asked the interior designer to paint flags on the wall for Celeste. It was also filled with books and building blocks that she liked to play with. Satisfied, Cecilia headed out to check on Celeste. Seeing that her daughter had fallen asleep again, she decided to call it a day as well.

Her expression was twisted. "It's all your fault, Luna! You're ruining my life!" she yelled. Her mental state was clearly unstable. Serena nervously stepped in front of me, but Sia staggered to her feet and let out a shrill scream. She suddenly stumbled and collapsed to the floor. "If it wasn't for you, my fortune wouldn't have…" she muttered. She glared at me, then started coughing up blood. That night, the lights in the west dormitory were bright. Police cars and ambulances filled the open space at the entrance.

I was on a hospital bed, harsh lights stabbing through my closed eyelids. Samuel held my hand tightly. The wedding ring pressed painfully into my palm, as if he meant to brand it there. "It'll be over soon. Once the transplant's done, we'll go home." He kissed the top of my head. The woody scent of his cologne mixed with the coppery smell of blood. The ER doors burst open. The sharp click of heels snapped through my haze. I forced my eyes open a fraction. Meredith Shawlesque's sickly sweet voice slithered into the room.

The room screamed masculinity and maleness. The walls were painted in black with a little bit of white here and there that was used to lighten the room. The furniture was a shade of dim colors and everything seemed totally out of this world. There was a cactus plant growing in a point and another pot of purple hibiscus in a pot on the window. She shot out of bed immediately, scenes from last night breaking into her mind bits by bits. She recalled entirely what had happened. From the man in her office, to his silent moves. Peter's dead body and his hands on her silent shoulder.