[The twilight was like diluted ink, slowly smudging along the skyline, soaking the surrounding light into a somber orange-red.
The evening breeze swept across the hem of her clothes with a hint of chill.
Jeanne Alter lowered her eyes to glance at her fingertips reflecting the sunset glow, her voice tinged with a faint, imperceptible melancholy as she whispered softly: “Is it already dusk?”]
[After a brief pause, she frowned slightly, a trace of lingering bitterness surfacing in her eyes.
“Yeah, I really can’t accept this.” She looked up at the setting sun in the distance, her shoulders slumping almost imperceptibly, her tone laced with a touch of dazed regret.
“It feels like I only just arrived, but time passed in the blink of an eye.”]
[A faint smile first tugged at the corners of her lips, but the mirth failed to reach her eyes in time.
She let out a soft sigh: “They say happy times always something-something…
it really is like that, isn’t it?”]
[As soon as she finished speaking, that fleeting smile vanished completely.
Her expression darkened, and her gaze fell upon Fujimaru Ritsuka, carrying both a hint of testing and a touch of certainty as she slowly spoke: “Do you still remember…
what happened in Shinjuku?”]
[She paused, her fingertips curling unconsciously as if weighing her words, her voice softening: “Specifically, that thing, the two of us…”]
[Her words faltered slightly; she looked away but quickly turned back, her eyes burning as she stared at him.
“Before you went back, the two of us…
we danced together, didn’t we?”]
[Fujimaru Ritsuka looked at the anticipation and anxiety hidden in her eyes and, without a moment’s hesitation, nodded solemnly, his tone firm yet gentle: “I won’t forget it.”]
[Upon hearing this, Jeanne Alter’s tense shoulders relaxed slightly.
A faint curve formed at the corners of her lips, though a nameless complexity was hidden within it.
She raised her hand to lightly stroke her sleeve and spoke softly.]
[“Same here.
Should I say I’ve seen the records?
Well, think about it—after all, as Avengers, we don’t forget.
But…” Her voice gradually lowered, a flash of emptiness passing through her eyes.
She raised her hand to tuck back a strand of hair ruffled by the wind, her tone filled with a sense of loss.]
[“When a spirit core has been through that kind of situation once, it still feels a bit surreal.” She seemed to have made a certain resolution, yet also seemed to be making excuses for herself, her words coming out in fragments.]
[“So…—” The words reached her lips but were swallowed back down.
She gave a self-deprecating chuckle, a hint of embarrassment coloring her features.
“I mean, ahaha, well—they’re all just excuses, aren’t they?”]
[She looked down at the ground, her fingertips unconsciously picking at her palm, her tone conflicted yet laced with an imperceptible stubbornness: “Considering everyone else’s situation, it’s not like I don’t understand that this is getting a head start…”]
[Her tone shifted as she suddenly looked up, the conflict in her eyes mostly replaced by a desperate determination.
Her voice became a bit more lighthearted.
“Well, it’s fine to jump the gun a little, right?”]
[Having said that, she slowly closed her eyes and took a deep breath, seemingly calming her surging emotions.
When she opened them again, her eyes were full of trepidation and hope.
Even her voice trembled slightly, carefully making her request: “Just once…
could you dance with me again?”]
[As her voice trailed off, her tense expression suddenly softened.
A sly yet gentle smile played on her lips, her eyes crinkling.
Her tone carried a touch of coquettish expectation: “—Of course, this time, you have to be the one to invite me to dance, okay?”]
[Fujimaru Ritsuka looked at the anticipation she couldn’t hide, his heart filled with a mix of emotions.
He simply nodded solemnly and raised his hand in a standard invitation gesture, his eyes full of earnestness and care.]
[Jeanne Alter’s eyes brightened instantly, a genuine smile spreading across her face.
She lightly raised her hand, slowly placing her slightly cool fingertips into Fujimaru Ritsuka’s palm.
Her fingers curled slightly as if confirming the reality of the touch.
Once he held her firmly, she stood up with the momentum.
Accompanied by the deepening twilight, the two slowly began their dance steps.]
[Jeanne Alter lowered her eyes slightly, looking at their joined hands, then looked up at Fujimaru Ritsuka, her eyes full of surprise.
She marveled softly: “…Heh, impressive.” As they danced slowly, she tilted her head slightly, her tone full of certain joy.
“Master, I feel like…
you’re dancing better than last time?”]
[She nodded to herself, her eyes crinkling even more, unable to hide her excitement.
“That’s right, yes, it must be so.” Her tone suddenly changed as she deliberately drew out her words, a flash of mischief in her eyes, her voice carrying a hint of feigned reproach.]
[“You’ve danced with someone other than me…” Seeing his expression stiffen, she couldn’t help but laugh out loud, her eyes curving, her tone light: “Just kidding!
You don’t have to look so conflicted.”]
[She looked up slightly at the close-at-hand Fujimaru Ritsuka, a faint smile on her lips.
She feigned indifference, but the tips of her ears were quietly tinged with a light red: “I’ve already gotten used to it, you know.
My heart won’t race even if we’re this close.”]
[She spun lightly, her skirt rippling in a beautiful arc with her steps.
Her tone held a bit of minor pride, and her eyes sparkled: “See?
My steps are better than before, too, right?
After all, I’ve practiced.”]
[Noticing the puzzled look he gave her, her cheeks flushed slightly.
Her gaze darted away, and her tone became somewhat flustered, carrying a touch of duplicitous toughness: “Eh?
You’re asking if my heart was racing last time?
I-It wasn’t, you idiot!” As soon as she finished, she couldn’t help but murmur softly, her tone full of helpless yet gentle doting, her expression softening: “…Dummy.”]
[The only sounds remaining were the soft rustle of the evening breeze and their light footsteps.
The twilight grew deeper, and the orange-red glow was gradually swallowed by the darkness.
Jeanne Alter’s steps slowed, the smile on her lips gradually fading.
Her expression darkened, and an unspeakable loneliness surrounded her as silence spread between the two.]
[After a long while, she let out a soft sigh, her tone filled with melancholy as her gaze drifted toward the setting sun that had mostly disappeared.
“…Haa, about…
Cinderella.” She paused, her steps still light, but a complex emotion surfaced in her eyes.]
[“Just now, I suddenly realized she was a very strong woman.” She looked up at Fujimaru Ritsuka, her tone full of sighing reflection.
“She danced with the Prince at the ball and later got the Prince.”]
[“Her voice grew deeper, her gaze dimmed, and her steps slowed even further.
Her tone was full of unmistakable disappointment and bitterness: “…But, the night of the ball still has a time limit.”]
[She looked down at their joined hands, her fingertips tightening slightly, her tone carrying deep sorrow.
“After actually experiencing it, it still feels quite painful.” She lightly bit her lower lip, her voice tinged with a hint of sobbing.
“Because I’ve realized that no matter how happy it is, it will eventually reach the end.”]
[Fujimaru Ritsuka’s heart tightened.
Seeing the sadness she couldn’t hide, his tone was full of worry and urgency as he softly called: “Jeanne Alter.”]
[Jeanne Alter’s steps came to a sudden halt, then slowly resumed, but the loneliness in her eyes was even greater.
She kept her eyes down, avoiding his gaze, her voice trembling slightly, full of guilt: “I’m sorry, Master.”]
[She took a deep breath, as if making a difficult farewell.
Her tone was calm yet carried an unquestionable finality.
“I’m at my limit as well.
After this, I can no longer be your strength.”]
[Fujimaru Ritsuka was shaken, his hand holding hers unconsciously tightening as he asked: “Why?
Can I ask the reason?”]
[Jeanne Alter looked down at their joined hands, a flash of pain in her eyes.
Her tone was full of daze and uncertainty, her voice light as if it would scatter in the wind: “If I have to say, it’s a problem with the spirit core.” She paused, her brow furrowing slightly as if she couldn’t explain the root cause either, her tone hesitant.
“Not quite…
is it the soul?”]
[Fujimaru Ritsuka’s heart sank.
Various fragments of the past flashed through his mind, his eyes full of gravity.
His tone carried a hint of uncertain testing: “…Is it because you are Avengers?”]
[Jeanne Alter looked up sharply, her eyes full of surprise, which then returned to calm.
She nodded slightly, her tone carrying a bit of relief and a bit of helplessness: “…Heh, so you knew?”]
[Fujimaru Ritsuka shook his head slightly, his eyes full of confusion and worry.
His tone was heavy as he slowly spoke: “To be honest, I’m not really sure.
Although I have no idea why, I saw Salieri’s letter and heard Kagekiyo’s message.”]
[He gazed into Jeanne Alter’s dimmed eyes, his tone becoming increasingly solemn.
“And now, I’m talking with you.” He paused, his voice carrying an indescribable weight.
“Everyone…
all of you are Avengers—”]
[Jeanne Alter nodded in silence, her features full of exhaustion and relief.
Her tone was calm to the point of numbness, as if she had long accepted this outcome: “…That’s right.
Well, that’s just how it is.” Her voice gradually trailed off, a flash of pain in her eyes.]
[“Because we all listened to that guy…
we heard what he said.” She opened her mouth, but the rest of her words were stuck in her throat, leaving only a nearly inaudible sigh.
“So…”]
[Fujimaru Ritsuka felt a pang in his heart.
He held her hand even tighter, his eyes full of pleading and reluctance.
His tone was trembling as he spoke with difficulty: “Can’t you…
keep walking with me?”]
[Jeanne Alter’s whole body shook.
Complex emotions surged in her eyes—reluctance, guilt, pain—before finally settling into a deep silence.
She remained silent for a long time, looking at his pleading eyes, her lips moving but making no sound.]
[Only after a long while did she squeeze out a sentence from her throat, heavily choked with emotion, every word soaked in guilt and helplessness: “…I’m sorry.”]
[Without any words of farewell, her figure gradually became transparent in the twilight.
The hand holding Fujimaru Ritsuka’s also dissipated bit by bit.
Carrying endless regret and reluctance, she completely vanished from before his eyes, without even having the time to say goodbye.]
[Immediately after that, without a moment’s pause, the setting sun completely sank below the horizon.
The last trace of twilight was swallowed by the ink-like night, and the surroundings fell into total darkness.
A gust of wind swept by, and Fujimaru Ritsuka, standing in place, still maintained his dancing posture, his empty palm left with only a cold chill.]
[Just then, a distant and solemn sound of a trumpet pierced through the evening breeze, clearly reaching his ears.
That was—the trumpet sounding the Seventh Trial.]