"You understand," Gérard continued, his voice dropping even lower, forcing everyone to lean in closer, "that today is not simply an election?"
"It is not a game of democracy. It is a step toward stability."
"Toward a world where we will help you."
"I understand," Ethan replied, feeling something inside him turn cold.
"And I support it."
Corvin leaned forward slightly, his posture growing a fraction more aggressive,like a wolf that has scented prey.
"You support it because you believe?" he asked, his voice almost friendly.
"Or because you are grateful? For the money? For… a second chance?"
The question landed awkwardly, far too direct for this hall full of euphemisms and insinuations, but Corvin clearly enjoyed watching Ethan hold the pause.
"Because I see that fear destroys more than trust ever could," Ethan answered, refusing to let irritation break through.
"And because I believe the reform is a step forward."
"For all of us…"
A shadow of approval or perhaps mockery,flickered in Corvin's eyes; it was hard to tell which.
Richard Hale, standing just behind, spoke coldly, his voice rough and clipped with military precision:
"I hope you understand that your words will carry great weight."
"Not only here,but everywhere."
"I'm hiding nothing," Ethan replied, meeting his gaze directly.
"From anyone."
Laurent had remained silent the entire time. Even in this circle of celebrities, he was taking part in the gamble.
He stood slightly apart, hands clasped behind his back, posture relaxed, yet his eyes were fixed on Ethan.
His stare was direct, piercing. Ethan felt it before he saw it,a faint chill ran across his skin like a draft.
Laurent took a slow step closer, yet the distance between them vanished instantly.
"People often say what they think others want to hear," he murmured quietly, almost lazily, his light accent making the words even more insinuating.
Ethan turned his head slowly, showing no alarm.
"Sometimes," he said.
"But today I'm saying what I believe is right."
Their gazes locked for an instant, and in that instant a very unpleasant memory flared up. Ethan allowed not a single muscle in his face to betray it, though something inside him stung sharply.
Laurent's lip curled in the faintest smirk,barely perceptible.
"I hope you truly have forgotten whatever caused you pain," he said, leaning just a little closer so the words felt intimate, personal in this crowded hall.
"Because pain can return. At the most inconvenient moment."
"Like the memory of… a woman who vanished and no one can find."
The remark crossed every line,out of place, cruel, like a knife in the back. Ethan felt blood rush to his cheeks, but he forced himself to answer quietly, with feigned calm:
"Pain teaches us to let go."
"And to move forward. Without it, we would never truly value… stability."
Gérard observed the exchange with faint interest; his fingers tightened ever so slightly on the back of the chair.
"Enough," he said with quiet authority that silenced everyone instantly.
"Today we are trying to mend all our conflicts…"
A short, dense silence fell over the hall,one in which even breathing seemed louder than the music.
The strings continued to play, a light jazz motif, subdued and almost intimate, yet here by the stage it felt as though an invisible wall had cut them off.
Gérard slowly shifted his gaze from Laurent to Ethan. The movement was smooth, like the turning of an ancient gear.
"Today," he repeated more gently, almost tenderly, "we demonstrate that we know how to forgive."
"And to accept those who are ready to understand us."
Elizabeth tilted her head thoughtfully, tracing the rim of her glass with the tip of her finger.
The crystal gave a single, clear chime.
"Forgiveness is a rare gift," she said, looking at Ethan through lowered lashes.
"Especially for those who once tried to insult us."
"I accuse no one," Ethan replied calmly.
"I simply… want to embrace your world."
Michael Reeves gave a quiet snort, swirling the dark wine in his glass. The liquid moved slowly, casting ruby reflections across his fingers.
"Confusion," he interjected. "I miss having that."
"Humans still have it. We don't."
Corvin gave a faint smirk; the corner of his mouth twitched upward, though his eyes stayed cold.
"Don't dramatize, Michael."
"Humans always dramatize enough for all of us."
Several nearby vampires let out short, joyless laughs,like echoes in an empty hall.
Roy took half a step forward, positioning himself beside Ethan,slightly closer than simple courtesy allowed.
His shoulder nearly brushed Ethan's,a light but palpable pressure.
"We all go through difficult periods," he said in a conciliatory tone, looking at Gérard.
"What matters is how we emerge from them."
He turned his head toward Ethan.
"Right?"
"Right," Ethan nodded, not breaking eye contact.
He felt dozens of gazes on him. Some assessed him as a potential threat,coldly, professionally.
Others as a useful symbol to be placed in a display window.
Still others as prey that had already been tamed and was now simply waiting to bare its throat.
Richard Hale crossed his arms over his chest,the motion sharp, military.
"I'm interested in something else," he said, staring straight at Ethan.
"If you remember nothing… why choose to speak publicly?"
The question was asked almost casually, yet it struck with pinpoint precision,like a shot at close range.
Ethan drew a slow breath through his nose.
"Because I saw how it was presented in the news," he answered.