Disclaimer: I own nothing, this is purely a fanfic for enjoyment.
Cross-over from various games, books, anime, manga, and movies.
The familiar characters you see here belong to their respected authors and owners.
"Speech"
Time*
Chapter 31: No Matter
Hours later*
Alucard regarded me with a raised brow, her tone more inquisitive than irritated, as she adjusted her grip on the ornate box containing the disconcertingly animated severed head of an unknown woman. "And what, pray tell, is the reasoning behind burdening me with the task of cradling this... lively decapitation?" She asked, her crimson eyes glinting with both bemusement and intrigue.
"Because at least I know you won't end up dropping it by accident during a fight or the fact that I'm the one driving the motorcycle we're on?" I reminded her, glancing back at the road as we sped through the narrow streets of Paris, the engine's roar filling the air.
"Right. So why are we in Paris?" Alucard asked, her crimson eyes narrowing slightly, her hair tousled by the wind. "And why Paris, of all places?" She continued, her tone laced with both amusement and mild annoyance. "I was expecting you to drag us to the nearest airport in London for a quick flight to Japan or some such absurdity."
"Would you believe me if I were to say that I got too excited about driving my motorcycle and accidentally took us to Paris?" I grinned, the edges of my lips curling with amusement.
"No." Alucard rejected, her voice flat.
"Alright, it's because things changed after we got that head." I explained, my hands tightening around the motorcycle's handlebars. "I had planned to take us to the nearest school, but now, with the female head in hand and not knowing if it could talk, I had to reconsider. I decided to head to Paris."
"What's this female head got to do with Paris?" Alucard asked, her curiosity obvious, though the suspicion in her voice was unmistakable, as if she were already expecting some complex explanation.
"Well, there's a chance we might find her headless body to attach her head to, for one." I answered, my gaze flickering to the road as I maneuvered the motorcycle through Paris' winding streets. "Not to mention, based on what I've discovered about her, she should be immortal—just like you, Alucard, but excluding the whole vampire thing."
"And why, pray tell, are we bothering to fetch her headless body?" Alucard asked, her voice dripping with skepticism as she raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced by my explanation. "I'm not particularly shocked that this girl is immortal. After all, she managed to move her eyes. But I'm fairly certain she'd prefer death over existing in such a... condition."
"Let's just say she will play an important role in the future—for the both of us." I replied.
"You really do enjoy keeping secrets, don't you?" Alucard teased, her mischievous smile widening as she poked me lightly on the left cheek. "Fine, keep your little mysteries. At least this unexpected turn of events is interesting enough to hold my attention."
"Alright, this should be a good place to stay for the night." I stopped the motorcycle in a narrow, cobblestone alley just off the bustling Rue de Rivoli.
Hotel Le Cygne Noir exudes an air of old-world charm, its exterior blending classic Parisian architecture with Gothic undertones. Dark iron gates guarded the entrance, and ivy crept up the stone facade as though the building itself was slowly being reclaimed by nature. The hotel was small, with only three floors, but the dark wooden doors and brass fixtures inside evoked an elegant yet eerie atmosphere.
I dismounted the motorcycle, and Alucard followed suit. With a subtle gesture, I sent the motorcycle back to the City of Calamity, letting the Sefirot's aura continue to influence it, its energy pulsating as it vanished.
We walked inside. The lobby was dimly lit by flickering candle sconces and an antique chandelier, casting shadows that seemed to move on their own. Rich velvet carpets covered the floors, and the walls were lined with faded tapestries and old portraits that seemed to follow our movements with their painted eyes.
A couple of guests and staff wandered through the lobby. Some were engaged in quiet conversation by a table, while others headed off to their rooms or left the hotel, their footsteps echoing softly in the otherwise hushed space.
I narrowed my eyes as I overheard a few whispers about Room 13, the most elusive suite in the hotel. Rumors circulated that the room was cursed—guests who stayed there reported unsettling experiences: whispers in the dead of night, fleeting glimpses of a tall, faceless figure standing by the window. Despite this, the room was always booked, and no one seemed to know by whom. The staff, being mysterious guards, remained tight-lipped about the hotel's strange history, offering only a polite smile when asked about the odd occurrences.
I examined the other guests more closely. Most seemed like artists, writers, or people seeking inspiration or refuge, though it was clear that Room 13 was a particular curiosity for them.
Alucard and I approached the front desk, where a tall, older gentleman, impeccably dressed in a dark suit, stood behind the reception, his gaze sharp yet welcoming.
"Welcome to Le Cygne Noir, monsieur and madame." He said, his voice smooth, his smile polite but strangely knowing. "I trust you've arrived seeking a place of both refuge and... inspiration?" The words seemed to linger in the air as if carrying more weight than a simple greeting.
He gestured to the open ledger on the counter, already laid out, as though he had been anticipating inquiries from guests like us.
"We have a few options for your stay. Allow me to detail them for you. Standard Room: €250 per night. A comfortable retreat, elegant and simple. Some say it's perfect for those looking to escape the outside world and find clarity in the quiet. Room 13: €500 per night. A room of peculiar charm. While many have enjoyed their stay, others speak of unsettling occurrences during the night. Whispers, shadows, and the feeling of being watched. It's always in demand. Would you be interested, monsieur/madame? Deluxe Suite: €600 per night. Luxurious in both decor and ambiance, offering sweeping views of the city. Many artists have found their muse within these walls, though some claim the suite possesses a certain... weight. An air of something unseen, perhaps."
He paused briefly as if reflecting on the gravity of his words before continuing with an almost ceremonial air.
"There are, of course, certain conditions for all guests. We ask that you do not venture into the garden after dusk, and please refrain from opening the door to Room 13 at night. It is, after all, an ancient room—not meant for the curious, but only for those brave enough to face what it holds."
The concierge gave us a sharp, knowing look, his gaze lingering with an unnerving intensity.
"I trust you lovely couple will find your stay... memorable. Shall I reserve a room for you two, monsieur and madame?"
I stared blankly at the concierge for a moment, then glanced at Alucard. A sense of discomfort washed over me at the thought of people mistaking us for a couple, especially with Alucard's appearance still the same.
"Give us the deluxe suite," Alucard demanded, her gaze locking onto the concierge with an unmistakable air of disdain as if his presence inconvenienced her.
The concierge's eyes gleamed with a subtle satisfaction as Alucard expressed interest in the deluxe suite. He nodded, the corners of his lips curling ever so slightly as though he had already anticipated this decision.
"An excellent choice, madame. The deluxe suite is truly a place of inspiration and elegance. Though, as I mentioned, it carries with it a certain... weight. Many guests have found solace in its walls, while others have discovered that sometimes the beauty of a place is not just in what is seen, but in what lies beneath the surface."
He tapped a few keys on the register, finalizing the reservation with a practiced motion.
"Your stay will be €600 per night. I'll have your key prepared immediately. Please allow me to escort you to your room, as the layout of the hotel can be... disorienting for those unfamiliar with it."
He stepped out from behind the counter and handed me a key, its ornate design gleaming under the dim light, catching my attention as I took it.
"One last piece of advice." The concierge's voice dropped to a whisper as if sharing a secret. "If the two of you feel... uneasy during your stay, I recommend taking a walk through the hotel's halls. It has a way of revealing things to those who are willing to look closely enough. But tread carefully. Not every truth should be uncovered."
With that, he politely bows as though he is sending us off on a journey with both invitation and warning.
30 minutes later*
"So, what now?" Alucard asked, her gaze flicking toward the silent head of the woman observing us, her expression unreadable. "Are we heading to check Room 13, or do you have something else in mind? Or perhaps you intend to uncover the origin of this peculiar girl?"
"Need to do some Divinations. We can check on Room 13 later. We might do something else if things get too slow. And I'm doing the Divinations to figure out the girl's origin." I replied, answering her questions. "Well, more like, I have to double-check if she is who I think she is."
Alucard raised an eyebrow, her expression mixed with amusement and mild disbelief. "So, you want me to fetch you some food for that ritual of yours, or shall we indulge in the luxury of room service instead?"
"I have a feeling you'd cause me more problems if I asked you to get anything for me." A bead of sweat formed on my forehead. "But yes, room service should be fine."
"Good. I'll order for the three of us," Alucard smirked, her eyes gleaming with a touch of amusement as she marched over to the nearby table. With practiced ease, she picked up the phone and began placing the order.
I took out my pendulum, holding it carefully by its chain, and closed my eyes. With a steady focus, as I entered Cogitation, I repeated the question seven times in my mind, preparing for the Spirit Pendulum Divination.
Is the separate head before me still alive, Aya Rindo?
As I opened my eyes, the pendulum spun clockwise, signaling that the head in front of me was indeed Aya Rindo—one of my allies in the long term, or so I hoped.
I paused for a moment before making a decision. It is best to double-check with Computational Divination in the Seflrah Castle.
"Done. I've ordered food for the three of us." Alucard said with a look of satisfaction as she walked back over after placing the order.
"Wait, three of us?" I glanced at Alucard, confusion creeping into my voice.
"Why yes, three of us." Alucard smirked, her eyes gleaming with playful mischief. "You, me, and this girl here." She gestured toward Aya, who was resting on a table just outside her box.
"Where would the food go, though...?" I glanced at Aya, who was staring back at me, unblinking. "Better yet, would she even eat the food if we were to feed her?"
"There is no we." Alucard replied, her tone dry and matter-of-fact. "You're the one feeding her."
I was momentarily speechless.
No matter. It wasn't as if Aya would bite my fingers off or anything. The worst that could happen was that she'd say no... or somehow convey that she wasn't interested.