Chapter 9

.

.

"We lost him," Yozak spat as a curse. The spy knew this castle inside and out. How could this happen?

The young soldier pulled uselessly on the door handle closest to him, sending up a stale, wooden smell. "No use. Locked." He turned back to the spy and asked urgently, "Sir? Do you want me to try all of the doors along this hallway?"

"Yeah," the spy agreed because time was running out, "and if you don't turn up with anything, go back to the party and find Lord Weller." He thumbed in the general direction. "He needs to know about this situation. We have to see if he can call in his men quietly because Lord von Voltaire has most of his best men assigned…and I'm sure you're one of them…to act as security for Heaven's Battle. Not to mention those nobles panic easily." He ran his fingers through his orange hair with frustration and cursed under his breath. "Voltaire's men are scattered about the castle and grounds… No way around it, Lord Weller is our best bet."

Being given his orders, the young man gave a serious bow and then began searching the doors. Meanwhile, Yozak ran on.


"Now, really," Amanda said as she handed a flower-shaped chocolate on a stick to Yuuri, "these treats are absolutely adorable. Lady Cheri's creative touch knows no bounds." She picked up another dark yellow flower and handed it to Conrad. "Star fruit flavored white chocolate…I think." The blond Mazoku popped the flower candy into her mouth and tasted. "Hmmm… star fruit, white chocolate, orange-flavored liqueur, orange juice…spiked with a little rum." She turned her sweet face to Yuuri and added, "Cooking is a hobby of mine."

"Cooking?" the double black said, "that sounds more like a mixed drink."

Conrad shrugged with a slight impishness. "Well, Mother has always had a taste for such things…mixing drinks and desserts, that is."

"And such delicious things!" Amanda beamed, taking another treat and holding it like a magic wand. "But, our time here is at an end," she announced grandly. "So, shall we be off again?"

The flower wand waved as though granting a wish.

"Oh, look!" Yuuri pointed with his thin, white stick. "Another one!"

Amanda agreed. "So pretty!"

And, then, music notes began to play on the wind. A flute with an otherworldly sound, so very similar in nature to that of the Japanese, met their ears. And, immediately, Yuuri was entranced. His dark eyes turned in the direction, widening in awe.

There was a feeling, a connection which stirred him. In Shin Makoku, he'd so often tried to find some shred to cling to that felt "familiar." This was it.

"Can we?" Yuuri asked his godfather without looking at him, eyes still transfixed on where the music was coming from. He got a happy smile in return and the three of them continued along the path.

"I believe that this performer plays songs from the days when Shinou was a boy," Conrad explained as they passed swinging lanterns posted into the ground on six foot poles. The frosted glass spilled forth patterns that looked like stars. They had Yuuri's attention for only a second before the next few musical notes caught on the wind and Yuuri found himself walking forward at a faster pace. Amanda had to practically trot on tiptoe to keep up with him, her dress ballooned by a breeze for a second, showing shapely legs—which Conrad admired, not being able to help himself.

He was a man, after all.


It was difficult to see along the length of the corridor and only a few poorly spaced sconces lit the way. There seemed to be a dark patch on the left side where another hallway seemed to intersect. A few steps beyond that, a small patch of blue-grey light seemed to spill in.

"But, which way, damn it!"

Alec examined the crudely drawn, homemade map again, squinting in the low light as he went. "Supposed to be around here…somewhere…" he gritted.

This was annoying! He just wanted to smash something—hard—with his fist. He could feel his frustrations building as the seconds ticked.

This was supposed to be easy. That's what he'd been told, promised.

Too easy…especially tonight…

He continued on somewhat blindly, not liking where he was and where he was going. "No good scrap of parchment," he hissed under his breath, not wanting to be overheard and discovered. Alec felt like crushing the map roughly into a ball because things weren't matching up—not at all.

Why weren't they?

Why?

"No…wait…I think…" He twisted sharply to the right and took an almost drunken, disoriented step, tying to get his bearings. Okay. He got it and he felt a fool. "Of course! Damn!" He peered out of a small, narrow window no wider than a porthole. "I need to go up a floor. That's why nothing seems to be making sense!"

Alec let his head fall backwards, thoroughly aggravated. The dark brown hood covering his face fell heavily away. When the young man straightened up, it was obvious he was wearing an elaborate, metal-plated headpiece intended for battle. But the cheap material and ornate laurel leaf pattern design would be better fit for a fair than for real combat. But, it didn't matter, he'd told himself. If trouble came to pass, it would buy him a second or two longer and that would be more than enough time for him to…

"Well, well… What do we have here?"

Alec turned around to see a shadow approaching him.

"S-Stand back!" he warned, drawing a very old, antique short sword. The point wavered from his shaking hand. "One more step and…I'll…! I'll!"

A laugh echoed in the hallway.


Forearms resting on the balustrade with a casual air, Wolfram leaned over the side of the balcony with the last of his drink. The first wine bottle was more than half empty, but he was content with that because another bottle was at the ready. The stars were beautiful tonight—small pinpricks of light against the velvet firmament. Yes, the spears were thrown but Wolfram enjoyed them, too—taking delight in witnessing them.

The green curtain was caught by the breeze—again.

Annoying.

Wolfram pushed it back while noting the sudden, haunting sound of piped music. It was as powerful as it was lonely. It seemed to speak of duty, of going into battle, but that the reward was great, too. Risk everything. Strive. Fight with blood and mud and grime. Fight with a full heart, pouring everything you have into it with the knowledge that you safeguard your homeland and those who dwell there.

Wolfram filled his goblet and went back to his position on the balcony. Yes, the old songs were good and true, but only a few people—noble warriors, and he would like to count himself among them—could actually relate and appreciate the degree of altruism that such songs honored. And, while Wolfram was not a musician by trade, he respected profoundly those who lived through and recorded the old ways of battle in song.

He lifted his drink.

"To those who came before me…and braved it all."

Wolfram put the goblet to his lips and drained it to the last drop.


Yuuri stood politely in the back of admirers, listening to a lone musician performing effortlessly with a simple, wooden flute. The elderly Mazoku's hair was thin but long, salt and peppered, locks draped out of the back of a jewel-spangled clip positioned at the back of his neck. His clothes seemed out of another era—layers of frills and tight knee socks all in shades of red with silver sparkles sewn in. Due to his hooked nose and the dim candlelight, he had a shadier character about him than most people attending the event, but also a strangely youthful appearance around his eyes as he played.

Every once in awhile, the old musician would move just so and would tilt his head to determine if the Demon King of Shin Makoku was still in attendance. It stroked his ego more than a little to see such undivided attention in a maou so young.

"Lovely…just lovely…" Yuuri remarked.

Conrad smiled. "This song is about a soldier going back into the heat of battle." He hummed a little of the tune and then sang, "Come ye soldiers…the drums and flutes are playing…the flags that lead the way…"

Yuuri nodded solemnly.

"No, it isn't a sad song, really," Amanda quickly explained, not wanting to lose the joyous feeling between them. "The soldier dies and becomes a star in the heavens." She gestured up to a bright star, twinkling down at them.

"Ah," Yuuri said, still struggling to keep his smile on his face. A story where the soldier dies was not the kind of thing he liked hearing. He wanted to save lives, not lose them. The double black looked upwards into the velvet sky. Maybe, he could think of it as the soldier becoming a guardian spirit and then shining down on Shin Makoku's peaceful land for all eternity. Yes, that would be much easier.

"Sir Weller?" a somewhat hesitant voice said behind them. The three of them turned to see a soldier standing alone and, seemingly, out of breath from his brisk walk. "Sir? I've been asked to discuss something with you."

"From Yozak?" Conrad asked with his head cocked curiously to the side. His smile flickered only for the slightest moment.

The man blinked incredulously. "H-How did you know, sir?" There was no way he could have known—no way. He could have been sent here by anyone.

Conrad motioned for the two of them to have a private conversation a little away from Yuuri and Amanda. "Yozak has a habit of doing these things when he wants to check in with me." He turned, gave a brief nod to Yuuri, and then walked further on for what appeared to be a friendly chat, his hand resting on the soldier's shoulder.

Once they had enough distance and suitable darkness, Conrad's whole demeanor changed. "What happened?" There was an edge to his voice and a sudden hardness to his eyes.

Again, the young Mazoku soldier blinked.

"I…uh…"

"Be quick about it," the second son urged. "If Yozak has sent you, that means he couldn't deal with the whole situation by himself. And that…is rare."

"O-Oh…Yes!" Now, he understood. Conrad didn't want to worry the king or his guest. That was plain enough now. And, so, without further delay, he relayed the whole story as rapidly as he could while Conrad listened with his arms folded against his chest.


"This way, Yuuri."

She took his hand, directing him a few paces.

They were alone together, making the mood change, and Amanda had said his name oh, so sweetly. Yuuri found himself obeying her without question. Along with the starry night and the sweeping breezes, she was a dream painted in watercolors on a pearl. The slight tilt to her face…her gestures… Her soft blond hair, lips, and the shape of her eyes all reminded him of Wolfram in some particular way—a decidedly desirable, feminine version.

Beautiful.

Yes, she definitely was. Then, Yuuri wondered, briefly, "What if things had been different?" What if he had met Amanda first instead of Wolfram? Would he have gotten engaged to her instead? Would he, now, be in love with her? In all of the mangas and animes he'd ever watched, the first girl introduced into the story would be the one to marry the handsome, albeit clueless, guy in the end. But the truth was undeniable: He had not met Amanda. He had met, and accidentally gotten engaged to, Wolfram.

Was this fate?

Worse yet, his life had gotten more complicated. Yuuri had felt himself growing closer and closer to Wolfram this year—more so than he'd ever done before. He'd come to understand Wolfram's private pain and social position through dreams. And The Maou, in his own way, seemed to be trying to help. But that "help" didn't seem to be very good because none of it made any real sense.

Why?

"Isn't this pretty?" Amanda asked, motioning to the next drinks table. It had silver glitter sprinkled about and an array of foamy dessert drinks made with strawberries and cream.

Just the kind of thing Wolfram would like, Yuuri thought idly.

"Princess Greta and I watched the serving staff set up this table and she said she thought you would like the drinks here best of all." Amanda was clearly pleased with herself for knowing this tiny piece of information, coming straight from Greta.

"Oh?" Yuuri said with a confused smile. He was still holding Amanda's hand and enjoying the feel of it.

A little laugh answered him, making his smile wider. Amanda really did have a tinkling laugh. It was the kind of thing he expected from a girl—a girl he liked and, by coincidence, a girl who seemed to get along with him in return.

She pointed. "There's no alcohol in these. But they taste good just the same, I'm told."

His eyes widened a little and, then, he grinned at her with a "you've got me" look. Yes, he was getting tired of dodging alcohol tonight. "Thank you" he sighed in relief, releasing Amanda's hand so that he could pick up one of the small glasses. "I really appreciate it."

He took a sip and Amanda laughed again.

"Oh, and something to wipe your face… You've got foam on your lip," she said, her tone very much amused. She was heading for the table when the narrow heel of her shoe caught into a crack in the pavement. She teetered, doing her best not to fall over like a fool in front of the Demon King when, unexpectedly, hands grabbed her at the waist from behind. Fingers, digging into the expensive fabric…

She glanced down and up again, surprised.

Yuuri and Amanda were close, cheek to cheek.

"Don't…fall…" He barely got he words out, whispered.

The double black could smell her—a kind of honey almond scent clinging to the blond curls in her hair and a creamy vanilla scent from her skin. Her fragrance was wonderful and so perfect for her.

So absolutely…her

Yuuri's jaw dropped a little more when she simply turned, melded into his arms, and rested her head on his shoulder. "So nice," she sighed contentedly, "so wonderful to have been rescued by you…"

Without realizing it, Yuuri's black clad arms wound around her—feeling the material slide sensuously under his fingertips, soft and tantalizing. Underneath the silk, he could feel skin and corset, supple and hard. The corset was rigid, of course, but made her shapely and the small, unseen rows of buttons leading all the way down seemed to whisper of secrets he could uncover.

Amanda, loving the wide-palmed caresses, placed her arms around Yuuri and tilted her head up.

"Thank you," was followed by a timid kiss to the cheek, a silkiness unlike anything he'd ever felt before.

Yuuri held his breath. A girl had just kissed him. A kiss! The real thing!

She seemed to purr slightly in the back of her throat and the next kiss was pressed, catching the corner of Yuuri's mouth. The wet warmth making him crave more.

Again, Yuuri held his breath and could feel his heart beating hard. He knew that they shouldn't be doing this…so out in the open, even if it was in the dark. But, the next kiss came unexpectedly, Amanda placing her lips against Yuuri's with the softness of petals and the sweetness that he expected. Yuuri had always been told that first kisses tasted like a vague, sweet lemon flavor. Amanda had been sampling sweets all night long, so her lips were sweetened—making him dart his tongue slightly to taste. He hadn't really thought about it. It simply happened with the slight stickiness that the kiss made them share.

Amanda trembled in his arms slightly, loving the sensation that he'd given her.

"Please," she whispered, head lowered.

Too close, too near. Her breath on his lips. He held her body close against his and she slowly parted her lips, moving in.

"Oh, no!"

"Wha-?" That was Conrad's voice!

Yuuri broke apart from Amanda, startled and embarrassed at once. Blood rushing to his face. Roughly, he turned in the direction he knew for certain that his godfather had to be.

Partially hidden by shadows, Conrad stood rooted firmly in place, but his handsome face was tilted up towards the castle—up towards the balcony overhead.

Wolfram was turning away, silently returning to his room and shutting the door behind him with the tip end of his walking stick.

It was over.

Now.

"Wolfram," Conrad said with deep regret in his voice.

How long? How long had Wolfram been there—seeing everything but saying nothing? It was his bedroom balcony up there, Yuuri knew, and there was no way Wolfram would have been prepared to see such a thing.

The double black took a few steps backward and uttered Wolfram's name pathetically. He knew better than to call up and make a scene. Wolfram wouldn't acknowledge him now anyway.

"I didn't…I didn't mean to…" he whimpered in Conrad's direction. The sharp look that he got in return wasn't hidden, either.

Wolfram was hurting and Conrad knew it.

"I didn't plan it to be like this tonight," he finished with a shameful glance in Amanda's direction.

The young blond Mazoku nodded. "It is as His Majesty says…an accident."

Conrad seemed to regard their words before he straightened his shoulders and addressed his godson once more, getting back to business. "I came here, Your Majesty…"

Yuuri winced at it but didn't correct him.

"…Because we have some minor issues with tonight's security… Gwendal requests that you return to the castle's Blue Room and remain by his side for the remainder of the evening." Politely, he motioned the way for them to return—essentially going back the way they'd just come.

Security? Yuuri nodded at it.

Not caring if it was entirely the truth or not, Yuuri easily agreed in an effort to please, following Conrad and with Amanda walking along at his elbow. As they passed, the young king noticed that the flute player had concluded his performance and was chatting merrily with two old crones by a drinks table, possibly telling a dirty joke by the looks of it. The women's cackles sounded harsh in his ears.

Yuuri resisted the urge to glance back. The magic of the evening seemed to be broken as he trudged along. The sky was still teeming with bright stars but he no longer searched for spears. The flickering candles and the gorgeous decorations were just that—things. And, as his mother was always so fond of reminding him, "When 'things' become more important than 'people,' you lose your compassion." Often, he'd wondered out of which fortune cookie she'd gotten that notion. But, at the moment, it seemed to be spot on.

He couldn't blame Amanda. He could only blame himself. He'd lived in the moment and lost his compassion and his passion—his feelings—for Wolfram.

"I am sorry, Yuuri," Amanda said, tiptoeing a few quick steps to keep up with him. The sequins on her dress grazed against the back of his hand when the wind blew alongside her dress, sending the material on the breeze.

He hummed an acknowledgement and glanced at Conrad's back. He wondered what kind of face his godfather was making now. The man's hearing and reactions were near perfect thanks to years of battle training. He had to have overheard Amanda's apology. But, at least, she did apologize. And he respected her for that.

So few people apologized in Shin Makoku.

"I'm sorry we got caught…and that we hurt Lord von Bielefeld," she clarified in soft whispers, "but not about the kisses…." She fingered her bottom lip as she went along.

Yuuri could only stare at her incredulously. How could she say that? Conrad was only a few steps ahead of them! Not to mention, Wolfram was beyond hurt right now. He had to be.

She gave a quick glance in the direction of the double black but kept walking. "Should you decide that you would like…to meet again…or make an arrangement," she went on evenly, and there was no way for Yuuri to misinterpret what she meant, "I would be most willing." Her voice was even lower now, but clear enough for Yuuri to hear.

Now, the young king was wide-eyed with astonishment as he stumbled on, not paying the slightest attention to where he was walking. This situation was exactly the kind of thing Wolfram had always warned him about, had always feared.

Yuuri knew that.

"I'm truly sad about the way tonight ended," Amanda whispered quickly but in a warm tone. "But, remember…as you and Lord von Bielefeld are both males and cannot go into breeding together…"

"Go into breeding…" That was the polite way Günter and the other nobles referred to pregnancy. Yuuri had heard it enough times when he studied the noble houses of Shin Makoku: the people, their spouses, mistresses, concubines, and children. No one was ever "knocked up," "in the family way," "preggers," or "had a bun in the oven." There was the one, generic term "go into breeding," and that was it.

"And as my natural coloring is very much like your fiancé's, such a child would be most pleasing to both of your families…"

Yuuri saw their small group nearing the Blue Room. As she opened her mouth to say something more, he touched Amanda on the shoulder and explained, "I can't think about anything right now, okay?" And, then, he approached Gwendal with swift steps. "Gwendal? Hi! Thanks for asking me over. Conrad gave me your message." He grinned with a hand at the back of his head apologetically. "Sorry, but I've gotta go see Wolfram right now."

"My brother?" A suspicious frown fell across the administrator's face. "Why? He's in his room." Then, his eyes darted to Conrad and, without words, he could tell that something had gone terribly awry. But, while that may be true, he was not going to let Yuuri off that easily. "To my knowledge, my brother is in his room…reading."

"Yeah, right!" Yuuri agreed a little too guiltily, practically dancing around the much older man to be nearer to the door. "But, I've gotta go. Can't wait." He pointed to Amanda and grinned while ordering, "Oh, that's right… Gwendal, you've met Amanda. Please keep her company for me tonight. I've really gotta speak with Wolfram." He gave a wink. "Thanks-so-much-bye!" Yuuri crammed in all at once.

Amanda gave a girlish shrug, wondering if the Demon King would really pass along her offer. If he did, and if it was satisfactory, she would never worry about her position in society ever again. She would belong to the royal household, give birth to the heir, and would have a nice little allowance for life.

Walking became power walking. Power walking became a jog. And, by the time he got to the door, he was at a full run. Yuuri hated the way he had to leave—forcing Gwendal to baby sit Amanda. But, there was no helping it, and it would have been rude to simply abandon her after the kisses they'd shared together.

The double black's footfalls echoed loudly down the hall as he left.

Hard blue eyes sought out brown ones.

"Conrad?"

"Yes, Gwendal?"

"Before you update me tonight, I have a question. Have you mentioned 'no running in the castle' to His Majesty?"

"Countless times."

He crossed his arms sullenly and stared at the open door.

"Do it again."


Yuuri arrived outside of Wolfram's bedroom door, breathless—bent over, hands on knees. Jogging was easy but flat-out running was a total pain in these shoes with no arch support on a stone floor. He made a silent vow never to wear them ever again.

A knock.

Another.

A pause.

Yuuri could still hear himself breathing hard. What was taking so long to answer the door?

"Yes?" Wolfram's voice was on the other side. He didn't sound upset and Yuuri took that as good news. There was no smoke, either, billowing out from under the door indicating the room was on fire. That had happened two years ago when Wolfram accused him of dancing too closely, and for much too long a time, with a young, brown-eyed duchess from Caloria.

"It's me, Yuuri." He shifted awkwardly before asking, "Can I come in?"

He really wanted to. No, to be truthful with himself, it was more of a "need" than a "want." He needed to talk to Wolfram in the worst way. Straighten things out.

Yuuri rubbed the back of his hand across his lips in case there was any evidence remaining. He worried about her scent on his clothes, too, but nothing could be done about that.

There were a series of "click-steps" before Wolfram opened the door. "I was expecting you…but not this soon..." When the door swung open, green eyes seemed hurt. But, that was something he was used to. Yuuri could handle that. However, there was also a serenity in Wolfram's face that Yuuri wasn't sure he liked. Not at all.

Wolfram stood aside and gestured—ushering him in.

"Wolfram, I…" And, then, he stopped in his tracks. The room had an emptiness about it. There were half-packed trunks, a writing desk with only three letters, and a door ajar, revealing an empty closet. There were boxes of things from Earth packed in the far corner—one in particular had blue jeans neatly folded with a beige, manila folder with large color photos half sticking out.

The room had a vague aroma of dust and spiced wine.

At this time of night, Wolfram had usually changed into something more comfortable—a white silk bathrobe that he'd gotten for Christmas from "Mama" or a pink nightie from his own mother. But, this evening, Wolfram was wearing a cotton nightshirt that was squared off at the sleeves and cut just above the knees—revealing a tight bandage around his leg instead of the usual brace. Dull, unflattering, and totally unworthy of Wolfram.

"What…?" The double black motioned to everything around him. "What's going on?"

Wolfram looked away for a moment with fatigue and then back. He'd have to tell him sometime. Now was as good as any. "I'm leaving tomorrow… in the afternoon. I have a coach ready." He took a few steps with the cane in the direction of the desk. "I was planning on just telling everyone 'goodbye' at breakfast, but…"

Yuuri's eyed darkened. "Look, I know that what you saw out there was…was…"

"Here," Wolfram offered after reaching into the small pile of letters and retrieving one in particular. "I was going to have one of the castle pages leave it on your desk tomorrow morning along with Gwendal's, but…as you're here…"

The double black took the letter and eyed it. "I've read your last letter, remember? I know how you feel about me. I already know what you want to say."

But Wolfram's expression didn't change and he didn't bother to argue back.

He shook his head. This was no good. He'd have to try harder. Wolfram was planning on leaving—again. And, this time, he was in no shape to.

"Wolf, I know that what you saw out there must have hurt you. But, you don't have to do all of this…and write this letter again…and…"

Wolfram's face brightened a little. "The ink's dry…"

He was quiet but determined. The tone and the simple words derailed the double black's line of thought. Over the years, he'd grown so used to Wolfram shouting at him when hurt or disappointed that, in some way, his lengthy rants no longer registered the way they were intended to. "What do you mean?"

"I said… 'the ink's dry'...not to mention…" He pointed to the open trunks, boxes, and the closet. "…Considering the physical shape I'm in, do you really think I could do all of this…and drink a bottle of wine…in the time it took for you to come up here?"

He motioned to the night stand. There was one goblet, an opened wine bottle, and one yet to be opened. The corkscrew still had a cork wedged.

Yuuri looked again at everything and considered the facts.

"The ink's dry on your letter. I wrote it earlier today after taking stock of all that's going on." With a slight hesitation, he suggested, "Go ahead. Open it."

"Wolf, I…"

"Open."

The double black looked down at the letter in his hands and, with uncertainty, broke the red wax seal with Wolfram watching. He unfolded the letter, the single page crinkling.

"This is…"

Wolfram nodded grimly.

"This is the end to…us."

Yuuri shook his head "no." The engagement—their last bond—was over with. Broken.

This was not the way he had planned on things going tonight—not at all. They were supposed to go to the party together. They were supposed to have spent time together—eating, laughing, watching Heaven's Battle into the night, and talking about the things that truly mattered to them.

Rebuilding.

"You know, Yuuri…" The blond struggled to smile for him. "I love…you."

Black eyes widened in shock. He had known it all along, being loved, but Wolfram had always veiled his affections by making the two of them an instant couple by saying "our feelings, "our wedding day," "our relationship." Wolfram had always made it so easy to push away, evade, and deny by constantly using the words, "…of course…because I'm your fiancé."

The blond lowered his head a little. "But it was never enough, Yuuri."

Eyes shining with tears, Yuuri took steps in Wolfram's direction but the blond put a palm forward to stop him. It was better to get the words out now than to keep them and regret later.

"I accept defeat," he bowed gallantly. "This ended the way it should…the way it was always supposed to, I expect."

"Wolfram…"

The blond tilted his head to the side and smiled up—a much truer smile this time. He could do it for himself. He could do it for Yuuri.

Let go.

"You know, Yuuri," Wolfram explained, "I had started thinking of what was best for you and for me. But, as I was writing the last letter, I worried…about how you'd get along without me by your side." His green eyes drifted to the door to his balcony. "But I'm not concerned anymore. That was just my pride getting in the way. I'm so good at lying to myself…and I've done it for so long…that I can't tell the truth anymore." Wolfram angled his blond head beautifully to look up and Yuuri had never seen such a confident expression on his face before. "You won't be lonely. You can take care of yourself from this point on. And I'm happy for you."

Yuuri crushed the letter in his hand. The paper buckled and the wax seal broke into pieces, falling down. "But…Wolf…"

"This is goodbye, Yuuri."

.