Late into the night, memories of the lock of love she had once hung with Laurent played through Cielle's mind like an uninvited guest. She tossed and turned in bed, restlessness consuming her. Unable to shake the thoughts, she threw on some clothes, grabbed her keys and drove alone to the church.

Her body burned with fever and with each shaky step, she climbed to the top, her legs weak but determined. Standing before the lock of love, she gently ran her fingers over it, the weight of memories pressing against her chest. Without hesitation, she removed it, the metal cold and final in her hands.

Before leaving, her gaze lingered on the wish ribbons tied to the prayer tree. Magnus had hung them himself, his own blood used to write blessings for Cielle, his sincerity carved into every word.

Her heart squeezed as she tore the ribbon from the tree, tears blurring her vision. Without a second thought, she set it alight and watched it burn, the flames dancing and consuming the last of her hope.

The sequence of her actions was swift and decisive. As the ribbon turned to ash, so too did any lingering expectation in Cielle’s heart.

As the fire consumed the ribbon, a crushing weight settled on Cielle's head as if the world itself had placed its burden upon her. Her vision blurred and the edges of her surroundings seemed to slip away, fading into a haze.

Before she knew it, she collapsed backward, darkness swallowing her whole.

When she awoke, the soft light of dawn filtered through the windows. Cielle slowly opened her eyes, only to be met with the concerned faces of several monks watching over her.

"Benefactor, after a long night, your fever has finally subsided.”

Cielle shifted on the wooden bed in the meditation room, gratitude flooding her heart. She sat up and bowed, her movements a silent thank you to the priests who had cared for her.

The sorrow in her eyes didn’t go unnoticed. With quiet kindness, one of the priests suggested, "Benefactor, you may find peace on the second floor of the back church. The view there is calm and it may help lighten the burden on your heart."

Cielle didn’t immediately head home. Instead, she walked slowly to the back church, her heart heavy with unspoken grief.

But when she arrived, her heart sank. There, in front of her, stood the last people she ever wanted to see, the three of them.

Margaret stood with a selfie stick in hand, Magnus and Laurent by her side, each of them shielding her as they posed for a group photo against the breathtaking scenery.

Cielle instinctively turned to leave, but then a voice called out to her.

"Sister!"

"Sister! You really understand me! How did you know I wanted to come here? We truly are good sisters."

The three of them made their way toward Cielle and with each step they took, she found herself retreating further.

Margaret, without missing a beat, wrapped her arms around Cielle’s, her smile sweet and almost mocking as she added, "Let’s take a photo together."

Before Cielle could protest, she was dragged toward the balcony.

"Sister, you really are obedient. You know, this family no longer belongs to you. You ran away in the middle of the night. Honestly, I wish you'd never come back," Margaret whispered in her ear, the words dripping with venom.

Cielle, her anger rising like a storm, shoved her away, her voice sharp as a dagger. "Why should I leave? I’m as much a daughter of this family as you are! If anyone should leave, it’s you! What, should I be your blood bag? Was I born just to be a blood bag?"

The force of her words left the others in stunned silence.

Margaret was the first to react. Her gaze flickered between Magnus and Laurent, her mouth falling open as her eyes filled with tears. She stared at Cielle, her anger still burning, her fury as palpable as the tears in Margaret's eyes.

And then, without warning, Margaret’s knees buckled.

With a sickening crash, she collapsed to the ground.

"Margaret!"

"Margaret!"

Magnus and Laurent’s anxious voices echoed as they rushed toward her.

But Margaret, with desperation in her eyes, crawled toward Cielle, clutching at the hem of her clothes. Her sobs broke the silence, her voice trembling with plea.

"Sister, please, let me stay in the family... stay with Mom and Dad... with everyone. Please?"

"It’s my fault; I shouldn’t have been sick, shouldn’t have taken your blood. I was wrong, Cielle. I was wrong. Please... let me stay with the family, please, I beg you!"

Tears streaked down her face as she looked up at Cielle, pleading with her eyes.

"Sister! Don’t send me away! I’ll bow to you... please!"

After speaking, Margaret was about to lower her head in a bow, but before she could, the two men rushed forward, panic flashing in their eyes, desperate to stop her.

The air thickened with tension and chaos quickly unraveled.

"Enough!" A deep, angry voice sliced through the turmoil.

Cielle turned toward the sound, her eyes locking with Laurent. His jet-black gaze met hers, coldness simmering beneath the calm of his expression.

"Are you done causing trouble? Cielle," Laurent’s voice, laced with hostility, cut through the room, though his tone remained unnervingly composed.

Magnus seized the moment to pull Margaret to her feet, her knees still trembling. His face twisted with anger as he shot Cielle a look of disdain. "You made your sister kneel to you? You must think you’re mighty now."

"Cielle, you’ve always been so obedient, so sensible. What’s happened to you these last few days?"

"Your sister almost died. Why can’t you just get along with her instead of trying to push her away?"

Cielle’s fists clenched tightly, her nails digging into her palms, drawing blood without her even noticing.

She forced herself to hold steady, her voice stubborn as she replied, "I didn’t! She’s just pretending, making it all up herself!"

Margaret's sobs only grew louder, her voice thick with anguish as she cried, "I didn’t! It’s because you hate me! You told me to jump off the second floor to prove myself to you!"

Her words left everyone in stunned silence.

"Cielle! I can’t believe you’d be so cruel! She’s your sister!"

Magnus, shaking with rage, lunged toward Cielle, grabbing her by the neck and slamming her against the balcony. His roar echoed in the tense air. "Why don’t you jump?"

"Yeah, easy for you to say! Why don’t you jump?"

Cielle shook her head frantically, her voice trembling as she tried to explain, "I didn’t say that!"

"Then how do you prove it? Want me to jump?"

Cielle’s heart skipped a beat. She glanced at the two men in disbelief, the weight of their words sinking in. Her eyes widened, her voice shaky as she asked, "Jump? You want me to jump?"

"Margaret, if I jump, will you finally let me go?"

Exhaustion clung to her, a deep fatigue that had nothing to do with her body and everything to do with the empty trust that had dissolved between them. She just wanted to escape their toxic fight.

Laurent stepped in, placing himself between them as he tried to reason with her, "Cielle, stop making a scene."

"I’m not making a scene.”

"If I jump, you’ll never have to face me again."

Before anyone could react, Cielle shoved Magnus aside. She placed her hands on the balcony railing and without a single moment’s hesitation, she jumped.

Laurent and Magnus stood frozen, their expressions empty, their eyes wide in disbelief. The world seemed to slow around them as they processed the weight of what had just happened.

Had they truly misunderstood her all along?

Panic seized them both. They rushed forward, their hands reaching for her sleeve, but they were too late.

Cielle hit the ground, her body shuddering from the sharp, brutal impact, pain coursing through her.

Magnus rushed to her side, his voice sharp with panic, as if the world around him had shattered. His eyes were filled with worry, a storm of emotion swirling within them. "Are you trying to kill yourself? Cielle, have you completely lost your mind?"

Cielle clenched her ankle, forcing herself to endure the searing pain. She lifted her gaze to meet Magnus’s, her eyes hardened with defiance. "Isn’t this exactly what you wanted to see?"

Both Magnus and Laurent stood frozen, their hearts heavy with guilt, a knot tightening painfully in their chests.

The silence that followed was deafening. Then Margaret hurried to Cielle’s side, her panic written all over her face. Tears glistened in her eyes as she helped Cielle to her feet, her voice trembling. "Sister, why would you do something so foolish? Even if you hate me, you can’t toy with your own life!"

Cielle shot her a cold glance but remained silent, the weight of her pain overshadowing everything else.

The sharp agony from her twisted ankle was too much to bear. She tried to rise, but the effort was futile. She collapsed back to the ground, helpless and defeated.

Magnus furrowed his brow, his gaze locked on the injured Cielle, a wave of heartache crashing over him.

He stepped forward, crouching down and gently pulled Cielle into his arms, his bloodshot eyes filled with a deep, unspoken sorrow. He murmured softly, "Cielle, we need to get you to the hospital. Your health comes first. Can we end this childish behavior now?"

Cielle’s heart trembled, the realization sinking in that he still saw this as nothing more than a tantrum...

She twisted in his grip, tears welling in her eyes, the weight of his misunderstanding crushing her.

Laurent, standing off to the side, opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat, unable to escape.

Magnus carried Cielle in his arms, his breathing shallow, urgency propelling him forward. Laurent followed swiftly behind while Margaret reached out, calling his name, but he shook her off without a glance.

Margaret stood there, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her gaze burning with resentment as she watched their retreating figures.

At the hospital, Cielle sat weakly on the bed, her injury carefully bandaged, the sterile smell of the room filling the air.

Laurent was running around the payment hall, his shirt damp with sweat, while Magnus listened intently to the doctor's advice in the office.

The room grew quiet, leaving only Cielle and Margaret.

Margaret’s gaze burned with venom, her eyes sharp as a dagger as she fixed them on Cielle. Her voice dripped with hatred as she approached, "Don’t think you’ve won just because you're pretending to be hurt. You’ve simply stolen their attention. Don’t get too cocky."

Margaret, with an air of superiority, picked up a small knife and an apple from the table, peeling it with slow, deliberate movements. She glanced down at the fruit, her lips curling into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even be alive, Cielle. You should be grateful you still have any worth in this family."

Without another word, she shoved the peeled apple into Cielle’s mouth, her gesture harsh and full of intent.

As Cielle struggled against the sharp sting of pain, the door to the room suddenly crashed open. A man, his face hidden beneath a baseball cap, burst in with frantic energy. Without hesitation, he pressed a knife to Margaret’s throat, dragging her backward as if she were a ragdoll.

Cielle’s gaze locked with his, an uncanny sense of recognition washing over her. The man’s eyes were wild and something about his presence stirred a deep memory. It was him, the fugitive from the recent news reports.

The air thickened with tension as the police, guns drawn, swarmed into the room, their movements deliberate and sharp.

Margaret’s face went pale with terror, her voice trembling as she stammered, "Who... who are you?"