Ever since she had been locked in the dungeon, Wendy had often sat alone in that silent space, staring into nothing.
There were no books, no conversations, nothing to pass the time. She could only face the cold walls and iron bars, letting her thoughts drift through the darkness.
It was during those days that she began to feel an inexplicable sense of déjà vu at certain scenes before her.
It was as though she had experienced the same sights, the same circumstances, at some distant point in time.
The feeling was elusive, impossible to grasp or touch, yet too real to ignore.
And just now, at the moment Veronica's spear of light pierced the butler's chest, that intense sense of déjà vu had surged through Wendy's mind once again.
A clear instinct told her: this man was not dead.
While in the dungeon, she had already tested whether this sense of déjà vu was reliable, and the outcomes had matched it remarkably often.
"He can't still be alive."
Veronica shook her head at that, her voice filled with absolute confidence:
"Because my Holy Spear most certainly pierced his-"
Before Veronica could finish, the sight before her cut her off.
The corpse pinned to the ground by the spear of light began crumbling from its edges like a weathered sand sculpture, dissolving into fine grains that scattered through the air.
With nothing left to pin down, the spear of light fell to the ground with a clang, then dispersed into motes of light.
"Clap, clap, clap."
Crisp applause rang out from deep within the alley once more.
The figure in the black butler's uniform slowly emerged from the shadows again, his steps elegant and his clothes immaculate, as though his chest had never been pierced.
He held a broken Hourglass