BLOODY LOVE'S
Episode 247's

"You know what people are saying about you out there?" Mr. Stuart came with the Daily Bjork morning paper, put it on the table in the middle room of Argent's manor. "Argent leads the undead army! They say even hell belittles you back for being too scared!"

Rollan laughed at hearing that. It was now seven in the morning and the sun was shining warmly through the giant window of the living room, sending warmth into the house, but Rolan still enveloped himself with a quilted blanket. He's still cold. "Technically, we are not dead. So the undead part is more or less correct."

"I'm still waiting for an explanation from you" said Albert Garnet, who sat by his wife's side.

Edgar nodded. He looked at everyone in front of him. Rolan, Clearwater, Marsh, Nolan, Mr and Mrs Garnet, Greyland, Mr Stuart, then Renata by his side. "You all deserve an explanation" he said. He took a deep breath. "I don't know where to start, but maybe this could help explain." He slipped his hand into the breast pocket of his suit, then pulled out a piece of paper. "As you all know, I went to Aston a few days ago. I'm sorting things out with Baron Hastings over there. While searching his house, I found this letter."

Edgar begins his version of the story by reading the letter.

Dear Baron Hastings, I am writing this letter as a warning to you not to deal with the devil.

Yes, demons. I mean real demons.

The first time I met William Bannet was when civil war broke out, exactly one hundred and ninety years ago. He was in his twenties, a charming blonde-haired young man. The words coming out of his lips were as smooth as silk, as sweet as honey, as sharp as thorns. We got along quickly and I saw she was familiar with my daughter, Bella.

I have a few other daughters, but Bella is the one I love the most. Despite the pain, he never showed it. He was always smiling and laughing as if the world was not painful to him. The physician said he wouldn't be ten, so I was happy when he reached his seventeenth birthday. I thought my daughter would be cured. The doctors were clearly wrong. But I was wrong. No one can fight against destiny.

Bella's death destroyed me. I sobbed in front of his coffin and felt as if the heart of my heart was being snatched away by destiny, by fate, by God. I thought I was the saddest man in the world, but I was wrong. The young man was just as devastated. He did not cry at the funeral, nor did he say anything.

But one day when we were talking and laughing, he said, 'Hey, Frits ... Bella won't be back, will she?'

At that time I felt something was off about him, but I ignored my premonition.

I should have realized that Willy was broken inside.

The devil ruined it, my dear friend.

William stayed with me for a long time, even until I was old. We often spent long nights chatting together, arguing, and sometimes bickering. When I finally came to say goodbye to her, she refused.

'If you weren't around, I don't have any friends to remember Bella, ' she said at the time, her words were a sweet ordeal, and I received the devil's helping hand.

'Just two lives, ' he said, 'we can take from the villain that his family can't possibly seek. One life for one life. If one life reaches eighty years, how many do you think are two?'

That's tantalizing. Unfortunately, what I don't know is that in order to give me life, a portal to hell must be opened and hundreds of lives sacrificed for it.

It was too late when I woke up. Everyone in the castle is gone. All my guests are gone. All my best friends are gone. Fortunately my other daughters were married and away from me, they survived. History records that Duke Ashington's palace was attacked by enemies.

No one has written anything about the devil and his rituals.

'Just calm down,' I can still hear his voice whispering like that in my ear, 'this is a time of war. Without us even doing this, they would have died in the war. Better their lives be taken advantage of.'

He's gone mad. When I looked into her eyes, I knew she wasn't really doing this for me but for Bella. I'm just a guinea pig, I'm just stashing data on Bella. My blood is for Bella's. He needs me for my blood. That's what he wanted. It was too late when I realized.

He has opened the gates of hell again, but I will prevent him. We can prevent it. The clue that the devil gave him was that he had to open the seven gates of sin by performing a sacrificial ceremony. The seven men who represent the seven great sins of man must be sacrificed consecutively every seven years. If he fails to open a single gate in the period, he must repeat the ritual from the beginning.

But he wouldn't be able to repeat it if I didn't exist. He needs my blood. I will hide waiting for my death, waiting for my time to run out.

I put this necklace on you. Hide it for seven years. Use the power of this necklace to stop him afterwards. Let my daughter calm down.

Greetings, greetings,

Frederick, Duke of Ashington.

***

"A Horde of Undead?"

"That's the Daily Bjork title today, sir," said George softly, deftly helping his master wear a suit and tidy up. "Everyone is waiting for your explanation, but I told you that you need time to prepare after the break. Mr. Edgar had already taken over while downstairs, accompanying them."

Lady Chantall was also in the same room, her lady-in-waiting had brought her a change of clothes and helped her to improve once they returned to the Argent manor. He picked up one of the morning papers that were placed on the coffee table in the room, deliberately choosing Daily Bjork. "This title means the undead made by Sir William, not you. But somehow everyone thought Hubbert was again writing this title referring to Argent. Well, it's only natural. Besides because many people know he always attacks you, this title matches the situation just now. I'm still amazed at how you all came out of the river like demons."

"The devil who coughed and vomited water?"

Lady Chantall laughed. "Even with coughing, vomiting water, and unclear speech your reappearance is still dramatic."

George finished helping his master prepare and be satisfied with his work. "Soldier Earl Clearwater and Lord Marsh and our workers have recovered, sir. At first they had trouble speaking as if they had no tongue, but maybe it was just the effect of returning from death. Temporary effect. Everyone has recovered."

"And who came back was just them? There's no one else? What about the missing person or the person who became the undead?"

George nodded sadly. "It looks like only the one who returned last night died, sir. Or rather, the one who hasn't been seven hours dead."

"I think it has something to do with the myth at Bjork." Lady Chantall nodded, putting the newspaper folds back on the table. "Before seven hours have passed, human lives still drift on the mountain, not yet returned to the Creator."

"What's with the number seven?"

"Many say it's a sacred number, sir," George said solemnly in response to his master's astonishment. "God made the world in seven days."

"According to the Samawi fairy tale, only six days. The seventh to rest. But never mind, don't talk about that. Jose all right?"

"Good, Sir. The last time I checked, Young Master was still sleeping in his room. Dr. Rolan says it's just exhaustion and nothing to worry about. The condition is good and stable. Miss Garnet who accompanied the Young Master."

"Good, let it go. Don't bother them." Marco pecked himself in the mirror, combing his hair back with his fingers. He himself looks fine. Nothing has changed, nothing has diminished. In fact, he felt healthier than ever. Really weird. "Tell Edgar that I'll come down for breakfast, and explain to everyone. If Jose wakes up at breakfast, ask him to join. We all also want to hear the full story of what he actually did."

George bowed respectfully, then resigned. As soon as the maid left, Lady Chantall approached, hugging Marco from behind. He could listen to the man's heartbeat, feel the heat of his body, and also feel how the body moved to breathe. All of that made her happy so much that she wanted to dance on the street to celebrate.

Marco patted Lady Chantall's fingers on his chest. "You've had tough days" he said.

Still with her head leaning against Marco's back and eyes closed, Lady Chantall nodded. "Very heavy. I don't want to experience it anymore."

Marco scatter. He let go of the woman's embrace and walked away. "certain. I understand," he said. He skimmed the Daily Bjork headlines, then fixed the newspaper on the table. "We can forget all this. If you want to stop working with me, like Robert, I'll take it. You're going back to the plot?"

Lady Chantall frowned inexplicably. "Back to the Scots?" He was stunned as he realized what the question meant. "How dare you!" annoyed snapping. "You think I meant that I wanted to get out of here?!"

Marco turned to face him in surprise. "Aren't you?'

"You know what's hard for me that I don't want to go through anymore?" Lady Chantall walked over angrily. He pushed Marco hard until the man took a step back. "You! You're hurt in front of my eyes! It's so heavy!" He pushed again. "Then you left me without saying anything! It's even heavier!" His cry broke as he pushed harder with both hands. "I don't want to have any more moments of your loss, I'm still asphyxiated as I thought I wanted to leave? Though I've said many times, hundreds of times, that I love you, but you think I'll leave just because one or two demons ever come? I even died for you! You're nuts! You're infuriating! Insensitive! I hate you!"

Marco catches the hand of Lady Chantall who is still hitting him, then pulls the woman and holds her. "Well, well, it was my fault" he said hurriedly. He did not expect the woman still wanted to be with him despite having gone through crazy and terrible things these few days. He lowered his head, kissed Lady Chantall's temple, held her tighter, trying to calm the sedu sedan. "I'm sorry."

Lady Chantall shook her head, returning the embrace was just as tight. "I don't want you to apologize" he said in a muffled voice. The rest of the sobbing still left his shoulders gently shaken. "I want to hear another word."

Marco loosened his embrace. The sight of the wet green eyes was deep, the eyes that always made him forget how to talk, making him forget the things that were not happy. The hour seemed to stop every time he gazed into the emerald color, it felt like he was sucked into the swamps, dragged and drowned toyed with a whirl of unfamiliar emotions. But it was a pleasant feeling, a sensation he had never felt while with anyone else before.

"You want to marry me, Jeanne?"

Silent.

Lady Chantall was too shocked to stop sobbing. His head feels empty. His intention was only to provoke the word love because he had never heard Marco declare love. Upon seeing Marco emerge from the river, Lady Chantall swore she would expect nothing. She was grateful for a second chance to meet the man again. Undergoing a relationship without any status he will accept. If Marco wants them to return to work professionally without a personal relationship it doesn't matter. It was enough for him to see Marco come back to life.

But the proposal just gave him a hard blow. This is what he really wanted. He wanted to hear that from Marco.

"My partner will obviously be far from calm" Marco said later because the woman was still silent. "As long as I'm alive, I swear I won't let you get hurt. But the problems that come into the future may be more dangerous and more severe than we have experienced in recent days. Do you still want to live with me?"

"I want to" whispered Lady Chantall quickly, trembling. Her tears were flowing nonstop. "I want to, God, I want to! Oh, my God ... a moment, a moment, I have to calm down ... take a breath ... am I dreaming?"

Marco pinched Lady Chantall's cheek a little hard until the woman complained. "illness?"

"sickness. Sick a little." Lady Chantall covered her lips with both hands, then held onto the cheek that had been pinched. This is not a dream. He wasn't on the tiny couch in Simon Rutlan's house. He did not wake up by the river and found what he had just heard was a dream. Marco proposed to her. "I want! I want to be with you forever!"

"You know some people might make fun of you for being with your grandparents, right?"

"Gosh, where's the guy? Let me poke out their eyeballs with my own fingernails!" Lady Chantall said it with a big smile and red cheeks as if it wasn't a threat. "Grandfather what?! Fifty years old is young! It's mature age! You are far more handsome and dashing than all the other men in Albion or Skot, no, not even in the world! After all you're smart, and charismatic, and strong, and .. great in bed" she added mischievously with a wink. "You're perfect! Who's gonna make fun of just a jealous guy 'cause I finally got you."

Marco chuckled at the barrage of praise, knowing that Lady Chantall was not seducing, the woman did think so. He lowered his head, dipping the red lip curvature beneath him with anxiety. "You may choose the ring and date as you please" he said. "Whatever stone or metal it is, whatever day you want, I'll give it to you."

***