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The night was going well. Fran was carrying a glass bottle containing a liquid that glowed brightly in the darkness of the mansion's corridors. He was heading straight for the back garden, to the workshop where his friend Impey spent most of his evenings.
After Queen Victoria revoked the search and arrest warrant for the group, Fran acknowledged that he felt closer to the engineer than to the rest of the group. So, if Impey asked him for something, he would usually make it one of his top priorities. And just a few days ago, the request of the engineer had been for a fuel that was as light as water but powerful enough to fire a cannon with force.
For Fran, it meant a low density liquid that could have a large exothermic reaction when exposed to high temperatures. After experimenting with various liquids, he had managed to synthesize the golden liquid he held in his hands.
It hadn't been that difficult to synthesize, if he was being honest. Testing it had caused several explosions, and he had inhaled the smoke just a few minutes earlier during the final test. He had noted in his notebook that inhaling the smoke left the user in a state of low alertness and drowsiness. But even so, he walked across the lawn towards the workshop, with the light on, stumbling only a couple of times over stones that he had sworn were further away than they appeared.
He arrived at the workshop and called out to Impey in a loud voice, but not so loud as to wake the rest of the inhabitants, who should have been asleep at that early hour. Except for the engineer, who, like Fran, tended to spend more time awake experimenting than asleep.
Fran liked having someone who understood him. It was like going back to the old days in the Royal Society laboratory, where he used to enjoy the silent company of his peers while working with the moon as a company.
Impey poked his head out and saw Fran, who seemed to be swaying slightly. Even so, he gladly accepted the bottle. The color was like the honey he put on his bread in the morning: a golden hue that looked like pure gold. It could be a good color for the prototype.
“Have you tried it?” asked Impey, making room for Fran to sit down on the sofa he usually used as a bed. He noticed that Fran looked as if he could fall asleep at any moment, and all he could think about was how hard he had worked to create the liquid. “I heard several explosions, and those were clearly not mine.”
“It worked quite well; it should have enough power to launch a rocket of considerable size.”
“I wouldn't expect anything less from you.” said Impey, taking a seat next to his friend. “I'll put your name on the Moon when I get there.”
“I think you'll need more fuel than I just gave you.” said Fran, and laughed. It was a small laugh, but Impey smiled when he saw another expression on him, different from the usual one.
“Are you all right? You seem out of sorts.”
“Hm?” Fran tilted his head, trying to figure out if he felt any different from usual. He shook his head, but Impey's gaze remained fixed on him. “Maybe it's the fuel fumes. I must have inhaled some during the combustion tests.”
“Don't you need protection for that?”
Fran's gaze shifted. He had a filter mask to wear during his experiments with volatile elements, but he preferred not to use it. However, he pushed that thought out of his head and began to look for a way to respond to his friend.
“Yes, but let's talk about something else.”
Impey raised an eyebrow. He realized that Fran was eager to change the subject. He sighed, thinking that even though it had been several months since the whole group had been living together, Fran was one of those who locked himself in his room for days on end. Almost as much as Van Helsing, but at least Van Helsing used to go out for dinner every day. Fran did not.
Fran liked to isolate himself more than the rest cared to admit. At first, they put it down to him being an introvert, one of those people who work best when they can concentrate on their work alone. However, even Impey noticed that Fran's room remained lit up for endless nights in a row.
He wanted to get closer to Fran. To understand him a little better. Perhaps not leave him alone so much, and support him as much as he supports the others. Impey wanted to give him the same help he received from Fran every time he asks for something.
He looked at the fuel against the light of the candle that illuminated the room. It had a fantastic shine. He was proud of his companion, his friend, although he did not dare admit it out loud with Fran present.
"Something has been on my mind for a few days now.”
Fran looked at Impey with confusion; he wasn't used to seeing him hesitate in his impulsiveness. Normally, he said things exactly as he thought them. What was stopping him? Thousands of things ran through Fran's mind about what might come out of Impey's mouth.
Perhaps he no longer wished to keep asking him for work.
Or he felt overwhelmed when Fran talked to him about science.
Maybe he had never considered him a friend and wanted them to keep his distance from that moment on.
"How close were you to Victoria?”
The question had been on Impey's mind ever since he had seen Fran threaten someone so powerful in the world so effectively. It was unusual. He hadn't expected it from his friend, either. He saw him very differently from how he usually was: he went from being gentle and docile to becoming a threat to the whole country.
It terrified him, to be honest.
Impey knew perfectly well that, even though Fran did not want to admit it, his intellect surpassed Beckford's. But not only that, the kindness that filled Fran's heart and body was enough to ensure that he did not have to worry about his friend using his intellect with the same intentions as Beckford.
Not again, at least.
He never dared to bring up the subject. He didn't even dare to think about it. But there he was, right beside him, the person who was about to fall asleep and who was responsible for the deaths of thousands of his family members, friends, neighbours and, sadly, his former teacher.
The smoke from the Zicterium spread throughout the village, leaving a trail of death and destruction in its wake. Well, with certain exceptions. Impey was there, alive, fortunately. But he would never have thought that he would become so close to someone who had caused him so much sadness at the time. Who had caused his loneliness at the end of the day.
But at the same time, he couldn't leave him alone. Not when he was so vulnerable. Fran was not what Impey imagined the creator of Zicterium would look like. Fran did not hate vampires, nor did he seem like a madman who was only after money or fame.
It was normal. Quite normal.
In reality, he was finding traits of himself in Fran. They were small details, but they humanized them both. As funny as that phrase was, considering that Impey was a vampire and Fran... a human who didn't usually take care of himself as much as he did to others.
He was worried and overly concerned about the fact that his friend had dark circles under his eyes and that his stomach was rumbling since the moment he arrived.
“Why don't you have something to eat before answering me?”
Fran nodded. Not because he agreed with what Impey had said, but because he always nodded at what his friends said. Besides, Impey was already heading to the back of his workshop so he couldn’t really say no to him.
The smell of coffee filled the room. So much so that it woke Fran, who was lying on the sofa. His eyes blinked slowly as he carefully scanned his surroundings. Impey's workshop was always chaotic, almost as much as Fran's room. Although both of them always said that there was order in that disorder, just like in their respective minds.
Fran took the cup from his friend's hands. He took a sip and the liquid, which was steaming and warming his hands despite his gloves, came into contact with his lips. He looked at the brown liquid, which reflected his face back at him. His eyes really did look tired, and his eyebrows were frowned, for some reason that Fran attributed to stress. But even so, it was strange to see himself that way, the last time was a couple of years ago.
When he was still young.
When he still had hope.
“What did you ask me before?”
The question came from Fran, who was staring at the cup, ignoring the plate of sandwiches his friend had placed in front of them. They looked delicious, but Fran didn't dare take a bite. Not until Impey took the first bite. He didn't want to be the first; he didn't want to seem like he was taking advantage of his kindness. He didn't deserve it.
“About Queen Victoria.”
Impey noticed that Fran kept glancing at the sandwiches. He knew Fran well. He took two slices and gave one to his friend.
“Ah “ Fran did not respond immediately, but when he did, it was with a sigh so soft that it seemed to be just his breathing. “I can still remember those days…”
Those were good times. Years ago, when he first set foot in London. With two suitcases by his side and his head full of nerves, the first thing Fran did was introduce himself to Isaac Beckford.
The Royal Academy was undoubtedly enormous. There were no buildings as large or as majestic in Switzerland. Perhaps a few, but in London… The city was full of them. Everywhere he looked, there were buildings and houses rising up as if reaching for the sky. Fran looked up at the sky, at the tops of the buildings. The people around him made way for him, recognizing him as a newly arrived foreigner.
It was a common sight with how fast the city was growing and immigrants arrived to work there.
But Fran was taking mental note of the buildings. He was struck by the use of steam and the columns of it rising high until they mingled with the clouds and the birds flying beyond the horizon. It was a bittersweet change from how connected to nature he was in his hometown.
It was his first day, and he already missed his brothers, his father, and his mother. Especially his mother. But he remembered her words of encouragement: “he would do wonderful things that would change the world”. She had told him to write her letters, not to forget to do so, that no matter how busy he was, he should write to her. Fran already knew what he would write to her: he would tell her about the landscapes and might even send her some quick sketches of the views he would see every day at his workplace in the laboratory. He hoped to have a good spot with a window to see the landscape outside his workplace.
But the sound of his hurried footsteps on the stone path reminded him that he was about to arrive at the Royal Society.
Meeting Dr. Beckford had been quite an experience for young Fran. The other man's calm voice had helped him relax, as had the fact that his English seemed to be good enough to hold a conversation with him. All those years of practicing English with his friend Henry had paid off. He was sure that his German accent showed through from time to time, but he didn't really care, as long as he could make himself understood. He still had trouble with the names of certain everyday things, but his scientific English was almost perfect. And that was what mattered; he didn't need to talk about anything other than his work.
Fran stood out among the other apprentices, both for his personality and for the results of his work. Beckford began to notice him, paying more attention to what he said and the proposals he made in meetings. He was a diamond in the rough that they could polish and shape however they wanted; he was still young and made more mistakes than many were willing to admit, but he had the potential to change the world.
So, when Beckford went to give his first progress report to Queen Victoria, it was the Queen herself who suggested that they would focus on the products Fran was obtaining. Beckford did not think twice, as he had already assigned Fran the study that would lay the foundations for the Horologium and the Zicterium. He had big ideas for what Fran would create. Isolating him from the rest of his peers so that he can concentrate on that specific project.
Young and trying to impress someone who seemed to be a great role model, he spent sleepless nights. Nights when the only things keeping him company were the light of a candle and the guard assigned to watch over the laboratories each night. Every morning, when they arrived, Fran was there, with a cup of coffee and a box of cigarettes in the rubbish bin, keeping company with the papers containing discarded formulas and ideas. And when they left the laboratory, Fran was still there, writing furiously and intently, sweat on his brow, thinking about what he could change to achieve what everyone expected of him.
He couldn't let Beckford down.
Neither his colleagues.
Not even Queen Victoria.
He had rarely had the pleasure of meeting her. Before he created the Zicterium.
After the Zicterium had been created, Fran gave the report and demonstration of the consequences of its use himself, in front of the royal court. He was nervous, sweating coldly, and had gone to vomit a couple of times before the presentation. He had never been so close to royalty. If he ruined the report, he would not only put himself at risk, but also the rest of the team. He was still a novice, or at least that's what Fran told himself.
He didn't deserve so much recognition; he didn't need it. He was happy just to have been included in the team. It was the opportunity of a lifetime.
To travel to another country.
To study and create new things.
To be somebody useful in life.
When he finished explaining the characteristics of Zicterium, the Queen, surprisingly, invited him to a private dinner where she would be delighted to hear more about the process of creating the new material.
Fran was surprised, to say the least. It was rare for anyone to want to hear him talk about his projects. His brothers didn't understand him. Henry, his closest friend, could only nod along, trying to follow what Fran was saying. And his parents looked at him with a mixture of pride and confusion.
But now he had the Queen of England and a room full of people who thought what he was doing was the best thing in the world, that he could change London and the world.
Just what Fran wanted.
What had started as a first dinner with Victoria had turned into dinners, lunches, breakfasts, and teas with the Queen. They talked about chemistry, new inventions and even her personal life.
Fran could arrive at any moment and unburden himself by talking to Victoria. She was not just a Queen to him; she was a close friend. A friendship that, in the end, proved to be more beneficial to the Queen than to him.
In it, Fran ends up being used for Victoria's benefit and, supposedly, for the benefit of the City of London. Fran did not know what Victoria's plans were for the Zicterium. He did not know that it was going to be used to eliminate all vampires.
From Fran's point of view, the Zicterium could have other uses. If handled correctly, it could be used to measure its effects on the human body. Fran did not know that Beckford was already conducting tests to create the Horologium and for his projects with Queen Victoria. It was during one of these tests that they realized it was a powerful poison that caused agony, suffering and, ultimately, death to anyone who inhaled it.
Victoria revealed the information late, but Fran heard it at one of the dinners he attended. At that moment, while they were both enjoying a three-course dinner prepared by the best chef in London, hundreds of villages were being wiped out by the army.
Fran did not know how to react.
First, he dropped his fork and knife. The plate of meat in front of him no longer looked appetizing. The blood still oozing from the cut was disgusting; its color was making the starter he had eaten earlier want to come back up. No matter how much water he tried to drink, he couldn't bring himself to taste the red wine in the glass beside him, which was half empty; the taste of dinner lingered in his mouth. His mind went blank as he tried to understand what the Queen had said, as if it were a simple joke.
In fact, Victoria continued to talk about the benefits that these attacks had brought to the city. There was nothing the Queen said that could excuse her.
Fran felt guilty.
But not for throwing his chair on the floor when he got up in a hurry. Nor for leaving the dining room without saying goodbye to anyone. Not even when he pushed Leonhardt as he ran out of the palace.
He knew perfectly well that there was a village of vampires near the palace. He had to make sure that the situation was nothing more than a joke.
His heart was beating incredibly fast.
His feet were tired and heavy, as if he had been running for hours. He did not know if the walk was getting longer and longer, or if it was his anxiety that was increasing with every passing second.
The rain fogged up his glasses, but as long as he could keep running through the mud between the trees, that was more than enough.
He couldn't stop.
Maybe.
Just maybe, he still had time.
Perhaps he could still save one person.
Fran could not be responsible for the deaths of hundreds of innocent vampires.
He couldn't carry the weight of hundreds of people on his back.
He had not travelled from Switzerland for this. Not only that, but he had not left his family behind just for this.
He couldn't look them in the eye again, knowing that in London he would be a criminal. He would be the main culprit in a mass murder that he wasn’t even aware of.
He had had long talks and explanations about why they shouldn't do it. But, at the end of the day, Fran was just an intern, a trainee under Dr. Beckford's supervision. And it wasn't him who made the decisions.
He was the real culprit.
The creator of Zicterium.
The creator of the death of hundreds of vampires.
Queen Victoria was also to blame.
Both of them were the real murderers.
Fran found himself surrounded by motionless bodies. There was no discrimination: adults, elderly people, children, animals… All living beings had been frozen with grotesque expressions, their bodies rigid and their skin peeling off.
The view was awful.
Anyone would have run away as soon as they saw the first body. Or they wouldn't even have gone near it.
But the raindrops falling on Fran's face mingled with his tears. His eyes were open, memorizing the surrounding view.
That was his punishment.
His sin.
Which he would carry for the rest of his life.
He needed to memorize each of the faces around him. He knew that apologizing would not bring them back to life.
And if that were the case, he would be terrified of having to explain what happened to them.
He hadn't realized when he had fallen to the ground. Nor did he notice that his lungs were burning, either from the run he had had to make or from the cloud of Zicterium that had condensed at his height.
The violet smoke surrounding him was a terrible reminder. A reminder of what his hands had done. Of what human beings are capable of when they have the right resources.
Or the wrong resources in your hands.
He did not realize that someone was approaching him. But he knew perfectly well that they had not come there because of the cries of pain he had uttered. They were not going to help him or anyone that survived.
It was the royal guard coming for him.
To take it to the Queen. Fran could only imagine what his prison would be like. Perhaps he could still flee the city, the country even.
Return to his parents' house. Lock himself in his room for a couple of weeks or months.
But when they lifted him up by his arms, his mind clouded over and he accepted his fate. There was no way to escape, not when he was so tired and felt his eyes closing from the fatigue of his body and mind.
When he came to, he was no longer standing in the rain. He was lying on a bed in the palace. He got up quickly and felt his whole body go limp, and he fell down again.
He had inhaled Zicterium.
A small dose, thought Fran. Just enough to leave his body trying to recover.
In addition, he noticed that his legs hurt more than usual after running. His arms had gone numb and his lungs burned every time he breathed. His nose and throat hurt, and he was sure that if he coughed, drops of blood would come out. He wasn't sure if he could speak, and his eyes watered every time he blinked.
He tried to relax, to regain his senses.
But he couldn't. No only was he physically unwell, but also felt a weight on his chest from the guilt.
Perhaps it would be better if he died at that moment. He could only think that at that moment.
His thoughts were interrupted when the Queen, her guard, and one of the doctors entered. Fran stood up and looked defiantly at Victoria.
She just laughed. She expected that reaction from her friend. If she could still consider him as such.
“How could you?” Fran asked hoarsely. The doctor came over to check on him. He gave him a couple of pills, but Fran pushed them away as he tried to get up.
“If you are planning to commit suicide slowly, you may as well leave.”
“When I get out of here,” Fran continued, inhaling heavily to take in as much air as possible and say just a few words, “I'll do everything I can to let the world know what really happened today.”
Victoria laughed haughtily. She looked at Fran with pity. She never thought she would see that young man who could barely speak in front of the entire council, so serious and wanting to insult her. It was a new sight for the Queen; no one had ever dared to treat her that way, and she was fascinated.
“The doctor believe you have a couple of days left if the damage from the Zicterium continues to spread. And, according to your documents and presentations, there is no cure to repair the damage.”
“I have been working on one.”
“Not without my financial support and permission.”
“I don't need those, I can finally see your true intentions.”
Fran stood up, leaning against the wall, surprising both the doctor and Leonhardth, who was about to go over to help Fran. Victoria stopped them with her hand, as she wanted to see how far the other would go.
“What are you planning to do? You won't get very far. I can put your name and face on wanted posters for criminal acts all over the city walls. “
“But you can’t prevent all the information on how to create Zicterium from spreading around the world, it won't be difficult with the contacts I have in Switzerland.”
“You'll be in prison before you can make any threats.”
“And that's enough time.”
“You'll be back, Professor Stein.”
“Of course not, I don't need you or your words or your support. Not anymore”
Fran held onto the door, looked disappointedly at the Queen, and thought that he would never have imagined that his stay would end like this.
“I can sort all this out, I will sort it out, and I will do it without you.”
“I can't wait to see it.”
“Do not underestimate me, or what I will achieve.” Fran would muster with the very little energy he had left “We could have done great things if you hadn't abused my trust.”
“I'll find a replacement for you; there are plenty of scientists out there who are dying to be in your position”
“Try it, but no one will have the same passion for helping people as I do,” Fran continued as he walked. “I thought I had found it in you too, but I was wrong.”
The Queen did not move to stop him; on the contrary, she just watched him leave the room slowly. Leonhardth waited for the Queen to issue an arrest warrant for Fran so he could go after him. But the Queen just sighed heavily and, after several minutes had passed, simply turned to look at her guard, determined.
“Tomorrow morning, your first order of business is to prepare everything to charge Fran with terrorism. Let's give him a couple of hours so he can rest and recover.” Victoria continued. “I want him alive in the laboratory.”
“As you wish, Your Majesty,” said Leonhardth, saluting.
Fran spent the rest of the night gathering necessary items from his flat. He took medicines he had created as prototypes to counteract the various effects of Zicterium. At least one of them should work, or the combination of all of them should help him. He needed shelter, resources, and everything necessary to make a full recovery.
He had to inform his family about his condition.
He had to escape.
Give instructions to his family and friends (really his only friend was Henry Clerval) about what to do if he was arrested and ended up in Victoria's hands.
Before dawn, Fran left his old flat with just a single bag. His throat still hurt, but he had to hide before they started looking for him. If they hadn't already. He grabbed his things and headed first to drop off his letter.
He approached all the post offices in the area, but every single one was guarded by security guards who stood at the door watching who came in and quickly checking what people were bringing to the post office. He would be taking a risk, but he had to warn his family before they tried to contact him.
Before they heard what had happened, what Fran had caused, in someone else's words.
The attack and all the information would surely appear in the newspaper and on international news.
However, when he tried to approach another office, he found a 'Wanted' poster with his face on it in the rubbish bin. He picked it up carefully and read how they were treating him as a terrorist for his crimes. His hands trembled. Most of the city must already be aware of his identity. He didn't have much chance of getting help. Fran sighed and quickly thought about what his next move should be.
His life was in danger. His freedom, above all.
His legs were shaking again, so he had to find somewhere to rest, at the very least.
He spent the rest of his days trying to escape from the royal guard. He avoided physical fights and moved mainly at night and through the least guarded areas. The outer area of the city.
It had become his refuge. He had been hiding in one of the abandoned buildings, where he had managed to set up a small laboratory. Not only had he made progress in finding a cure for the effects of Zicterium on his body, but he had also continued his research.
He spent his days and nights locked up in that place. He hoped that the situation would calm down enough at some point so that he could get out of there.
Until he found a ray of hope in his new group of friends. The encounter in which Cardia saved his life completely changed Fran's life. He couldn't be more grateful.
Every day he spent in that mansion brought him relief. And although there were bad days, most were good enough to distract him from his thoughts for a while. Fran had met people who, like him, were fighting for a reason to save the City of London.
And next to him, at that moment, was the person he could consider his closest friend. With him, he could spend hours talking about projects he couldn't even mention before.
It was strange. Having a friend with interests similar to mine. Being able to talk to someone about chemical reactions, medicines, inventions, engineering, and have them understand him. Receiving comments from Impey's always brilliant and dynamic mind was often revealing for Fran.
That's why, whenever he asked him for a favor, Fran was there to do it without asking for anything in return.
So, even though he wasn't quite sure what he wanted to do at the time, he told his friend everything. He didn't hesitate to tell his friend his whole story.
Impey remained silent the entire time. Although Fran almost fell asleep from time to time and occasionally stretched out syllables or uttered meaningless words, he understood perfectly well the hard days he had to endure.
Knew he had suffered more than he thought.
He suspected that Fran was not directly involved in the attack on the vampires. In truth, he wasn't that involved. Impey knew perfectly well that the young doctor had a big heart and a great love for the lives of others, so it was impossible that he could allow something like that to happen.
And that conversation confirmed it.
Impey trusted his friend completely. He knew that he carried enormous guilt. He knew that he went days and weeks without sleep. Likewise, he knew that he had nightmares that tormented him, and there were nights when they were together, and he could hear him sighing heavily.
Impey understood. He knew that his friend was suffering the consequences of that day almost as much as Impey was for having lost his teacher and people.
The one who still talks to him at night. The one who, when celebrating progress with his rockets, dedicates it to him. The one he can see reflected in the moon, waiting for him.
He liked to think that he was not alone every time he saw the moon shining. On full moon nights, he felt closer to his old teacher.
He would be proud if Impey accepted and helped poor Fran.
Impey was trying to find the right words to cheer up his friend. On the other side of town, Victoria was in one of the castle's bathrooms.
It was midnight, and she had organized a party to celebrate the medal ceremony that had taken place a couple of days earlier. Despite the unexpected visit from an old friend, Victoria was having a good time with her royal court and the medal winners.
At that moment, Leonhardth was standing beside her, holding the headdress the queen wore on her head, while Victoria touched up her make-up.
"Would you like to put on some more blush?" Leonhard asked softly, using the voice he used when addressing the Queen, especially when they were alone.
"Always" Victoria replied with a smile.
Although, in reality, that wasn't the question Leonhardth wanted to ask her. He had noticed that, since the incident with Fran a few days ago, the Queen had been somewhat pensive. Leonhardth knew perfectly well that Fran's presence had been an important part of the Queen's life. And it was too selfish of him to even think of asking her about it.
"Professor Stein seems to be living quite well, doesn't he?” But the Queen knew her guard like the back of her hand, almost as well as she claims to know the city she rules."I would never have expected to see him with such an expression on his face.”
"Doesn't it bother your Majesty?”
"I envy whoever is by his side, benefiting from his creations.” The queen laughed softly. "I had too many hopes for the doctor, and in the end, everything fell apart the night he left.”
"If we had left as soon as he left, we could have caught up with him.”
"I really don't have a problem with him leaving," said Victoria as she took the headdress and placed it on her head. "At first, I doubted whether he would still be alive, but seeing him face to face with that defiant expression on his face…"
The queen's laughter bounced off the walls and echoed around the small room.
"It was fantastic. We'd better keep an eye on him from a distance, because I'm sure he'll do something unimaginable soon, and I want to be the first to use his creations.”
"Your Majesty, we will do everything we can to ensure that the Professor can return to work for you.”
"I discovered something, Leonhardth: he must come to me. I saw his eyes filled with rage, and I know perfectly well that even if we take him back by force, he will not be able to fulfil his potential unless we set him free.”
"Shall we just watch him?”
"From afar, so he doesn't notice; if he finds out, he won't hesitate to take action against us," Victoria continued. "again. I don't think we can resist what he's planning this time. I've already received a threat from him, and I don't want to receive another one."
Leonhardth understood and bowed before His Majesty.
They both left. However, Victoria kept thinking about Fran. She still remembered how that night had gone. It was an understatement to say that Victoria had been upset since that night. In fact, she was the one who least wanted him to leave, as her plans had been ruined by Fran's departure, who by then had become a key figure in the development of the country she had planned.
But the night went on, and she forgot about it for a couple of hours while she was at the party. She hoped that at some point she would be able to have another meeting with Fran, a much calmer one. Like the ones they used to have months before.
However, in his place was Impey, who was accompanying Fran that night. He was already on the verge of falling asleep.
"I don't think you overreacted, Fran," Impey replied softly, hoping not to wake his friend.
However, he quickly opened his eyes and turned his attention to Impey's words of encouragement. "But you're still important to us, so stop sacrificing yourself for the rest! You make us look weak.”
"I didn't want it to look like that! I just..." Fran lowered his voice, whispering to himself that his life was not worth living, but he continued, raising his voice and looking at his friend with a strange ambition. "All of you give your lives every time we take a risk. You are my saviors, so I can do it too."
"I think you've misunderstood," said Impey, putting his arm around Fran's shoulder to draw him closer. "You must seize every opportunity, list all your achievements, and find what you are looking for."
"I don't have any of that; I left it behind when I left the Royal Society.”
"Transform your regrets and mistakes into ways to correct your past.”
"All my life, my father, the philosophers, and scientists I read about in books, all of them lost their lives, literally and metaphorically, to achieve their accomplishments. I just wanted to be like them; it seemed like so much fun."Fran sighed, searching for a way to say what followed "All I want is to die once I've fixed everything I did wrong.”
"Fran, you can have it all without the Queen's support, without ours. Only you can transform the scars on your heart and give them new life.” Impey looked up at the starry sky. "There are as many people as there are stars in the sky who trust you. And I can lend you my old man to watch over you from the moon if you need him.”
Fran laughed. For the first time, sincerely. Impey was happy to see him like this; at least he had shown some positive emotion.
“I'll try, I can't promise anything, but I'll do my best to make the vampires pay for all the pain Victoria caused.”
"And your disappointment and betrayal. They are valid too," Impey continued. "You both could have had it all, but with our support you will achieve great things, so live until I reach the moon”
“I shall live on, for all of us, as there are still things I must accomplish.”
Fran fell asleep on the sofa, accompanied by Impey and the sound of the machines he had left running. Despite sleeping on the sofa, he felt happy, and when he woke up the next day, he felt rejuvenated and rested. Although he had a buzzing in his head, he felt almost perfectly fine.
It was a new day and I still had things to do.
On his way to his room, accompanied by Sissy, he recited the chemical formulas from his latest experiments. He felt he was close to achieving something great and was motivated.
It could be a good day.
That is what Fran expected from that morning onwards.