Chapter 31: You’re Finally Paying Attention to Me
Adele had envisioned countless scenarios for her reunion with Celeste: a chance encounter in the hallway, a fleeting glimpse on the street, maybe even a… locker room confrontation after gym class.
Wait, why the locker room again?
Well, locker rooms were notorious for… interesting encounters.
But she hadn’t considered the infirmary. The irony wasn’t lost on her.
And there are beds here…
It was a coincidence that felt almost… too perfect.
But when she saw Celeste, the state she was in… she understood why she had sought refuge in the infirmary.
Scars, both fresh and old, marred the girl’s face, her neck, her arms, her legs… every exposed inch of her body bore the marks of punishment, a chilling reminder of the consequences of defying a Sequence One.
It was a brutal, yet necessary, display of power, a way to deter further retaliation from Hermione.
It didn’t mean that Celeste’s family didn’t care about her, that they had abandoned her. On the contrary, if they had truly given up on her, they wouldn’t have bothered with this… charade.
Humiliation and submission in exchange for their daughter’s life and future… it was a price they were willing to pay.
But even though Celeste understood this, the reality of her situation, the vast gulf that separated her from Hermione… it must have been a crushing blow.
The guilt she carried, the mockery of her classmates, the sudden fall from grace, from being the pride of her class to a… pariah… it was all too much to bear.
And she was at that sensitive age, that tumultuous time when pride and self-worth were paramount.
So, she had retreated, sought solace in the infirmary, like a wounded animal licking its wounds in the safety of its den.
Adele, understanding Celeste’s pain, felt a wave of sympathy wash over her. She should have been afraid of Celeste, wary of the girl who had tried to…
But she wasn’t.
Because as a transmigrator, she had a unique perspective. She knew the story, knew Celeste’s heart, her motivations, her desires.
Celeste was consumed by guilt, by remorse for her actions. And the realization that her unrequited love was… well, unrequited… it had shattered her.
She was desperate for redemption, but she had chosen to hide, to retreat into the shadows, too ashamed to even reach out.
And Adele… well, Adele was her redemption.
At least, this Adele was.
The original Adele, faced with this situation, would have cowered in fear, her eyes wide with terror as she watched Celeste flee. And that… that would have only pushed Celeste further down the path of self-destruction.
Heartbroken and desperate for revenge, she would have lashed out at Hermione, her actions fueled by a reckless disregard for consequences.
It would have been a repeat of the original story, a tragic ending for both of them.
Celeste, driven by her grief, would have consumed a Sequence One potion, a powerful elixir that granted immense power at the cost of… life.
Her long lifespan, her vampire heritage, would have been reduced to a ticking time bomb, a rapidly dwindling hourglass. And when the sand ran out… she would cease to exist, her soul lost in an eternal slumber.
And Hermione… well, she wouldn’t have fared much better. Injured, perhaps even mortally wounded, she would have faded from the story, her fate uncertain.
Adele didn’t want that to happen. Not to either of them.
They were both… precious to her.
Okay, maybe Hermione is a little more precious… But Celeste is… well, she’s Celeste.
I’d be an idiot to let them destroy each other.
What was the point of transmigrating into this world if she couldn’t change the story, couldn’t prevent the tragic ending?
So, she didn’t run. She didn’t hide.
She faced her fears… and her future wife.
“Celeste…” she said, her voice a little hoarse from disuse.
Celeste, frozen in the act of pulling the curtain open, her gaze fixed on the floor, didn’t respond. She seemed to be avoiding Adele’s gaze, as if ashamed to meet her eyes.
She raised her hand, covering the side of her face that bore the marks of Hermione’s punishment, as if trying to hide her shame, her humiliation.
Her hand, despite the warmth of the room, was icy cold, Hermione’s magic lingering, the wounds deep and pulsing with a chilling blue energy.
It must have been agonizing.
Adele tried again, her voice softer this time, trying to bridge the gap between them, to erase the memory of yesterday’s events.
“Celeste, I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said.
“…”
Silence.
Adele’s voice softened even further, a gentle warmth replacing the initial awkwardness.
“What… what happened to you? Does it hurt?” she asked, her concern genuine. “Celeste… I can barely see you. Come closer… please?”
“Celeste… Why aren’t you answering me?”
The more Adele spoke, the more Celeste’s guilt intensified, crushing her beneath its weight. She didn’t deserve Adele’s concern, her kindness…
Plop!
A tear escaped, sliding down her cheek, blurring her vision.
She couldn’t take it anymore. She had to leave.
She rose from the bed, her movements jerky and uncoordinated, and stumbled towards the door, her escape route, her path to… wherever a failure, a coward, a… monster like her belonged.
The gutter.
She reached the door, her hand gripping the handle, ready to flee.
“Celeste? Where are you going?” Adele’s voice, laced with panic, stopped her in her tracks. “Why are you leaving… me? Cough! Cough…!”
She clutched at her chest, her body wracked with a sudden coughing fit, her face contorted in pain. She gasped for breath, tears welling up in her eyes.
But even through her pain, her gaze remained fixed on Celeste, her eyes pleading, their vulnerability disarming, irresistible.
Celeste froze, her escape forgotten, her heart lurching with concern. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. All that mattered was… Adele.
She rushed to Adele’s bedside, dropping to her knees, the coldness of the floor seeping into her bones, unheeded, irrelevant. She had to be closer to Adele.
She took Adele’s hand in hers, her touch gentle, her breath warm against Adele’s cold skin. She rubbed Adele’s hand, her own injuries forgotten, her own pain insignificant.
Being near Adele… it had a calming effect on her, a soothing balm for her troubled soul.
Adele, sensing that her strategy was working, her heart filled with a mixture of relief and a perverse sense of triumph, didn’t let up. She kept her eyes closed, her brow furrowed, her breathing shallow and uneven, as if she were in agonizing pain.
She was channeling her inner damsel in distress.
Time seemed to stretch on, each passing second an eternity, until finally, she slowly relaxed her brow, her breathing returning to normal.
She opened her eyes, her pink pupils, initially dull and lifeless, brightening as they focused on Celeste, a spark of… something igniting within them.
As long as it wasn’t heart-shaped, she was good.
“I’m… sorry, Adele,” Celeste whispered, her voice choked with emotion. “I’m so sorry.”
Relief washed over her, her heart finally settling into a steady rhythm. Tears streamed down her face, blurring her vision, her carefully constructed facade crumbling as she surrendered to her emotions.
She apologized, for everything, for her attempted escape, for yesterday’s… mistake. She was filled with a regret so profound that she would have done anything, given anything, to atone for her sins.
She couldn’t escape, couldn’t hide from the truth. Her heart belonged to Adele, its every beat echoing Adele’s pain, her joy, her sorrow.
Adele’s hand, initially cold and clammy, gradually warmed beneath Celeste’s touch.
Adele reached out, her fingers gently brushing away Celeste’s tears. She shook her head, her expression conveying a silent forgiveness.
Her voice, soft and soothing like a gentle rain, washed away the dust and grime that had settled on Celeste’s soul, leaving behind a sense of… peace.
“Celeste…” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “You’re finally… paying attention to me.”
