Part 4

Several days had passed with the sun shining high, contrasting against the wintry weather of Sainte-Coline. Now, the afternoon was forecasted to be thick with snow, and a great snowstorm was expected in the coming days. Customers came and went from "Café et Sucre," where a good cup of freshly ground coffee revitalized any body stiffened by the icy cold.

As she served a couple of customers with great warmth, Yuna's thoughts inadvertently drifted back to the events of that mysterious snowy night. Just then, her phone began to vibrate under her apron. With a swift glance at the screen, she saw her sister's name and, as soon as she could, she slipped into the dressing room to take the call.

"Hello, how are you?" Yuna asked, concerned, since it was unusual for Nasai to call her during work hours.

"I'm fine..." came the reply, though with a tone of unease. "Yuna, it's almost the anniversary of our parents' death. Would you like...?"

"Spit it out," Yuna urged her sister, sensing her hesitation.

"Would you like to spend the day together?"

Silence fell over the call for a few seconds, a pause that confirmed Yuna's reluctance toward the suggestion.

"You know I don't..." "Yuna..." Nasai's sorrowful voice cut her off before she could finish.

For Yuna, those kinds of ceremonies felt like a dagger to the heart. They transported her to moments in her life she only wanted to forget, to leave behind in the past. Yet, she was fully aware that Nasai had a need to remember their parents, to fill the void in her heart. For that very reason, she could never bring herself to refuse her sister's request, no matter how bitter it felt. With a grimace of displeasure and three seconds of silence, Yuna gave in once again.

"Fine, okay."

"Would you like to have lunch in the countryside?" Nasai asked, her voice now more energetic and cheerful.

"I have to go. I'll leave it in your hands," Yuna replied, noticing from the dressing room that the café was starting to fill up. "Love you, Nasai. Take care."

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Two antagonistic yet beautiful beings passionately and fervently kissed amidst a flurry of rose petals, swirling in the wind's rhythm. As if enchanted, the flowers began to dance around them. The magnificent, enchanted landscape faded into the background, overshadowed by the intense love shared by the young couple.

Suddenly, a stunning woman with snow-white hair, draped in a radiant veil, appeared behind Patrick, a shimmering tear rolling down her cheek. He wore an expression of resignation as he turned his back on the angelic figure.

The scene shifted abruptly, and the lovers, bathed in the flickering glow of a fireplace, delicately yet passionately entwined their bodies under the canopy of Limbart Castle’s bedroom.

In an instant, darkness consumed the scene, and the younger Dokovic brother was left alone in the void, surrounded by the most menacing blackness. His wrinkled clothes and trembling hands were stained with blood. His face contorted with sadness and despair, perfectly mirroring the brokenness of his heart. Blood-tinged tears traced the silhouette of his beautiful face before falling into the abyss...

"TULTÏEN!" Patrick screamed from the depths of his being, leaping out of bed.

His body, like the silk sheets, was drenched in sweat. Each limb seemed to have a mind of its own as they twitched uncontrollably. Once again, like any other night, his memories left him on edge, turning into horrifying nightmares. Nightmares that never ended, forcing him to relive moments marked by agony and torment under the moon's shadow.

Bringing the palms of his hands to his face, he wiped away the sweat, exhaled deeply, and slowly, though his body still trembled, made his way to the bathroom for the coldest shower, hoping to disconnect his mind.

The sound of the water cascading over his wet body loosened all his muscles. The droplets traced sinuous paths over his sculpted torso, crossing over large scars that ran across his body. Patrick’s skin was pale, nearly translucent, almost like porcelain. As his long, jet-black hair obscured the expression on his face, you could barely make out the fury with which he bit his lower lip, causing a slight, almost imperceptible bleed, masked by the intense red of his lips.

Once dressed and accompanied by his black leather trench coat, Patrick, about to leave the mansion, was stopped by a curious voice.

"Where are you going?" Annie asked as she gazed at the moon from the private garden.

"None of your business," he replied without looking at her.

"I'm coming with you," she declared, moving closer to Patrick, unable to take her eyes off the dark strands of hair falling across his pale face.

"I'm just going for a walk," he said, trying to shake her off.

"Then I’ll join you," Annie insisted, linking her arm with his.

Patrick narrowed his eyes and sighed, realizing that no matter what he said, she would follow him to the ends of the earth. So, he began walking alongside his friend under the falling snow, muttering under his breath without looking at her.

"Do whatever you want."