Arthur folded the letter, his fingertips slowly moving away from "Forever Yours, Flora Hastings."
"Agares." His voice was steadier than he expected: "You're pleased."
The Red Devil circled from his shoulder to stand in front of him, its scarlet eyeballs almost touching his brow.
"Of course I'm pleased," the Devil chuckled softly, "my Contractor has finally shed that hypocritical facade. You see, you didn't even need my temptation, you yourself have already come to this point."
Arthur did not retreat.
"Then..." he looked up and said, "what is it that's surprising you?"
The Red Devil's laughter halted for a moment.
Arthur gazed down at the hand holding the letter.
His bones were distinct, his fingertips covered with calluses from sword practice and playing the piano.
These hands, on the night of June 5, 1832, issued the order for suppression. It was also these hands that had once raised a fist for Little Adam's fate in the Magistrates' Court.
