Chapter 62: The Envelope of the Last Breath
I woke up in my suite, come morning, without the slightest memory of falling asleep.
The notebook was still there, open on the coffee table. The pen abandoned. The bottle, empty. The armchair tilted like a discreet witness of the night. But I was standing. And still alive.
That morning, calmer than the others, bore no burden. Not yet.
I crossed the silent suite to the back, where the private pool awaited me. Carved into the black stone, it smoked gently under the red glow of dawn. A thin stream of water fell in a cascade against the wall, fed by an underground spring—hot, mineral, soft like a hand on the back.
I let my clothes slide to the floor, then plunged into the water. Perfect heat. Heavy silence. And in that silence, a rare thing: peace. I stayed for a long while, eyes closed. I thought of nothing. I wanted nothing.
I finally got out, skin reddened, muscles loosened. And there, folded carefully on a stone bench, my kimono awaited me. The regenerating kimono, alive, sometimes a little too silent. Always clean. Always at the perfect temperature.
I put it on slowly. The fabric slid over my shoulders like a familiar memory. It hugged my skin, fluttered for a moment as if it breathed, then settled. A beat. A pulse. As if it had recognized me again. I pulled the belt. I closed the collar. And I became myself again.
The morning tray was already set up in the main room, on the coffee table, near the balcony. The ritual of the Crimson Obsidian, precise, without a word. Cut fruits, still warm bread, roc eggs, black tea, purple juice.
And Lysara. Already seated, straight, eyes in the light, her cup of juice between her hands. I sat down. We did not speak. But we ate. Quickly. Silently. Almost... in rhythm.
I bit into a fruit. She did too. I took a second bite, faster. She too. And soon... a duel. A real battle, with juicy pulp and stifled laughter.
Then a smile took me by surprise. Lysara barely raised her eyes. The start of a smile. Cold, discreet, almost absent. But... present. And we laughed. A little. Not loud. But really.