On that same night.
14 Black Palm Street, East Borough.
In a dimly lit room, wind blew through the window, flipping the pages of a magazine on the desk with a rustle.
A pair of unusually pale hands gently shut the window. Its glass immediately reflected a young woman in a somber black dress, her smooth hair hanging loose.
Her face was slightly round and beautiful, giving her an exceptionally fragile appearance that stirred the desire to protect her.
Looking at her reflection in the glass, Trissy exhaled softly, turned around, and picked up her leather suitcase, preparing to leave.
Ever since Katarina Pelle had ruined her plans, Trissy had been hiding in the East Borough, changing lodgings every few days.
She strictly adhered to the rule of never staying in the same place for more than three days.
Just as she lifted her suitcase, Trissy stopped, then gave a soft scoff. "You still haven't given up, Katarina Pelle."
As she spoke, a mass of Black Flame abruptly rose around her, revealing the dense web of invisible spider silk silently surging toward her and preventing it from advancing any farther.
A figure took shape near the doorway.
Dressed in a simple, pure white robe, the graceful, beautiful woman with black hair and blue eyes was impossible to place in age.
This Demoness of Unaging showed none of a pursuer's urgency. She spoke casually, as though chatting with a neighbor. "How could we give up? You're a stain on us. An enormous stain."
"As long as you remain unerased, we'll never be able to hold our heads high before others."
She reached out and gently ran her hand across a table.
A few specks of dust clung to her fingertips.
"Look at you."
"You've utterly disgraced us Demonesses."
"We're Demonesses-women who