Hi, I'm back with the new chapter. I can't even stick to one writing style (because I have none). Okay, so this is Mireille going through some weird moments cause she could not get over herself for cutting the person's head off, even if he had it coming... Not that I am ever good at explaining stuffs. (Just skip this if you just want to read the chapter and not my rants.)

I was going to post earlier but I went on a trip and all. Settling back was rather troublesome. I was never one to sit down quietly, and with a pen in my hand, and write every single day. Going back to school in just a few more days. I got a little overly-anxious (new level, new people and etc), I ended up swaying from what I had wrote earlier. I am not even making sense anymore and I'm not going to be bothered... well, let's see how it goes. Tsuki is coming back again, I forgotten how her character was supposed to be like but oh well. Sorry for taking up your time, if you read this and I hoped you see my anxiety in this chapter(nooooooooooo). Well, moving back to the plot in next chapter.

Slight change. Thanks animelover1990, I did not notice it. :9

It was noon, and he just got back from wondering round the streets. He had hoped to have bumped into those men who had reduced his little toy to such a pathetic state. Or even the girl from before. If he saw her, the very least he could do was make her talk. Mireille, on the other hand, was not an easy person to talk to, not when she was acting unlike her usual self. Then again, he do not recall any decent conversation between the two of them.

Why did this bother him so? Was she merely a toy? He sighed loudly, walking into the house the Varia would be staying in for the Inheritance Ceremony. A house owned by the Varia, in the same household of where the tenth stayed. Though, right now there was only him and Lussuria, and of course Mireille.

He casually walked into her room and towards the bed. Mireille, who was sleeping when he left, was sitting on the bed, staring listlessly at the sky outside the window. The sunlight made her weary brown orbs look red. "Mireille," He called out to her as he sat by the edge of the bed. "You okay?" He asked, noticing how tired her eyes were.

Then she got up, without even looking at the Prince, like she was avoiding him. She walked away to the washroom before he could say anything. Hearing him clicked his tongue, she slammed the door behind her on impulse.

I should have answered... and tell him I was fine. But I could not, it was strange I don't even dare to look at his face. Strange. What's with him anyways... it's not like he cares about me... or anything. It would have been nothing to say I was fine, it's nothing I can't handle. His reactions... just now and before... made it seem like he cared. But, if I spoke to him or even look at him, he would know. And he would not back down till he knew exactly what was going on.

She exhaled loudly, staring at her reflection in the mirror. What a pathetic sight, she thought staring at her reflection. Her face was pale, a light pink line lingered on her cheek and neck ― what was left of the cut, thanks to Lussuria. And she was covered in bruises. She shook her head unhappily, and stared at the mirror once more.

Yesterday... He looked furious. She sighed loudly and slapped her cheeks with both hands. "Owww, that hurts."

He sighed, an unamused frown was present on his face as she left the washroom, her cheeks rather red. Her eyes were a little hazy, and her movements were a little off, a sign that she was not all that well to be moving around so much.

Just the night before, she was talking in her sleep, sweating profusely from a fever she was recovering from. She left the hospital earlier than she was allowed to despite what the doctor said. It took the Prince quite some time to persuade her to go to the place he was staying at. Lussuria would arrived by nightfall and could help her recover faster. He took a flight over immediately after the Prince called him.

She swayed a little as she moved towards the bed. Her breathing was loud and she could not watch where she going well. Belphegor hissed, grabbing her before she could fall. "You..." He started, his voice displeased. "What are you doing?" He asked. "Let...go," She muttered, avoiding his gaze.

The younger girl trembled, staring at the blond with terrified eyes. She breathed loudly, her clothes smeared with blood. The room was all crimson, splattered with blood. Bodies all over the floor, the blood trail continued to outside of the room. Her eyes widened in fear, aghast, like she had just seen the ghost.

"...Hey, Bel...," she said, meeting his gaze for a second before looking down. "What?" He grunted. "...Have we met...?" Her brows furrowed uneasily. "What?" He repeated, sounding more annoyed. What did she mean by that? Did she hit her head?

Isn't that what I should be asking you?

Her free hand reached for his face but she stopped herself when he spoke.

"It's nothing," She pulled away from him and shouted at him, without meaning to. "I told you it's nothing!"

"What the hell is wrong with you?!"

His question struck her. She blinked, staring blankly at him. She sat on the bed then, looking down at her hands.

What the hell was wrong with me exactly? Ah, that's right, I'm just tired... Just tired... If I sleep now, I would probably sleep for another twelve hours or something. Hahaha... Fatigue is making me make a big deal out of this. This...? Belphegor's words... the fact that he might care or because of that?

She pictured blood on her hands. It was not that she never killed a person before. It was not being in control as it happened. Like she was someone else. A person who could kill without remorse. A monster. She felt relief when that man finally stopped breathing. Like pain was finally... over.

His hand reached out for her, realizing that she was trembling. She flinched and backed away.

"I'm not like you!" She shouted in a terrified voice.

"Fuck this. You piss me off so damn much!" He groaned loudly, ruffling his hair impatiently. Was he dealing with a wounded animal? Why did he had to be put through this?

"You are a bloody hitman for god's sake, not a maiden in distress! Spare me the theatrics and pull yourself together. If this was anyone else, I would have stab them or kill them by now. I'm done! Do whatever you like, I don't care!" He got up, storming out of the room.

She fell back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Did I ask for your concern, Crude Prince? She covered her face with a pillow.

"Shit, shit, shit," she muttered weakly, mentally scolding herself for appearing weak in front of him. Get a grip. He was right. Did it looked like I wanted pity from him?