139: Hidden life (2)

Hidden life (2)

Each of these revelations caused Anastasia to blink, a sense of being overwhelmed settling in. Seeing her stumble slightly, he inquired with a touch of concern, "Do you want to return to Versailles?"  2

Anastasia shook her head. "No, I—I am fine. It's becoming interesting…" Her curiosity was piqued, and she was eager to learn more, as well as to meet the woman who had stabbed Dante. It seemed as if fate had granted her a bad sister before blessing her with Marianne, she thought to herself. 

"Intruders on the grounds! Intruders!" Anastasia heard squeaky voices announce. 

Two lesser demons, of slightly dwarfed stature, came rushing through the corridors clutching spikes in their hands. "Intru—Master Dante!" they exclaimed, promptly pressing their foreheads to the grimy floor. "Welcome back to the underworld, Master Dante!" When they raised their heads, one of them said, 

"You have, uh, a living person here…"

"This is Anastasia, someone very dear to my heart, and she's here for a tour," Dante responded, before inquiring, "How are things here?"

"Not very good," croaked the other one. "Archdemon Nathaniel assumed control of this place, but it hasn't been the same without you! We have been eagerly anticipating your return! There are some truly exceptional souls you might like to torture."

"Cannot wait for it," Dante responded, which ignited enthusiasm in the two creatures. "I have other matters to attend to right now. Is prisoner two hundred and thirty eight still confined to the same cell?" he inquired. 

"Yes, Master Dante. Same since the beginning of their time here," answered one of the lowly demons. 

"Have you seen Migdre?" Dante questioned them.

"Not for the past fortnight… he came here looking for Archdemon Magnus and informed us that you had returned. We have already prepared your quarters, Master Dante. Everything has been cleaned and stocked according to your preferences."

"Excellent work. One of you can go find where Migdre is," Dante delegated the task before walking past them, with Anastasia trailing behind him. 

As they went along their way, Anastasia's ears were haunted by the groans of the souls reverberating through the corridors. They continued walking until they arrived in front of a cell, which reeked of singed hair, and she couldn't help but cover her nose. When her gaze fell upon the interior, she noticed a figure devoid of skin, its muscles and flesh charred and bloodied. 

Had Dante not told her beforehand who it was, Anastasia would have had difficulty discerning whether the figure was male or female. 

Isabella's eyes lacked eyelids, leaving them perpetually open as she shifted her gaze towards the cell bars. Her voice carried weariness as she remarked, 

"I was beginning to think that you forgot your wife…" 

"Your hopes are quite pitiable," Dante commented, his eyes composed and his voice steady. "You are another man's wife."

"So much anger and hate; you're unable to forget me," Isabella murmured before her eyes fell upon the woman standing beside Dante. "Did you find another plaything? The last archdemon said that you were cursed, cursed for what you did." 

When Dante took a step towards the cell, Isabella's bravado wavered, and she started trembling. He said, "I thought you would recognise her at first glance. Perhaps your eyes require a dose of scalding oil to lubricate them."

Observing the melted woman's gaze fixated on Dante, Anastasia wondered whether some things within this realm could revert to their regular state after being tortured, only to be subjected to renewed torment all over again. She then noticed the woman's gaze shift towards her, staring at her, before the woman began to crawl along the ground to get a better look. 

"… Catalina," Isabella whispered, her eyes widening. A bitter smile appeared on her nonexistent lips. "The irony… but it seems she's unaware. She's not her."

Anastasia stared at the tortured woman, who regarded her with no semblance of warmth. She could only imagine that they weren't close in their past lives, unlike the bond she shared with Marianne. 

"I thought you might appreciate a glimpse of your sister, whom you once cherished," Dante said with a deadpan tone, the crimson in his eyes igniting like the fires burning within. "You have been tortured for years, yet it seems you held onto something that escaped my notice. Something I should have been aware of."

"I need you to suffer; both of you need to suffer for eternity," Isabella laughed before groaning in pain. "She's in Hell as well," she added, taking pleasure in seeing Anastasia's presence there. 

"I am not dead, and my name is Anastasia," Anastasia corrected the person, prompting Isabella to cease her groaning, her attention now locked onto the person outside the cell. 

"You sound just as you used to, Catalina." Isabella's words faded into a whisper, the background noises from the other souls making it difficult for Anastasia to hear. 

At the snap of Dante's fingers, Isabella burst into a gooey black mass before gradually reconstituting into her previous form. She dragged her body away from them as she whimpered in anguish, "Argh!" 

"You took my husband. My children, my very life, and yet remain so unsatisfied, like the rest of the demons here, wandering around in search of closure you will never attain. The one tormented is not I, but y—AHHHHH!!!!" 

The woman's scream startled Anastasia, a piercing sound that seemed to scrape against the rugged and dull walls of this place. Isabella's body contorted in mid-air, her limbs twisting unnaturally and bleeding onto the ground before going limp. 

"Not everyone is fortunate enough to have their tormentor in Hell be the very person they ruthlessly murdered." Dante's eyes began to fill with darkness, akin to a drop of black ink falling into water and diffusing. He continued, "Allow me to assist you, as you might have forgotten." In response, the woman screamed again, red tears streaming from her eyes. 

Once the screams subsided within the cell, Isabella gasped and tried to draw in a breath; her head numbed from the pain. 

Anastasia observed the woman seeking refuge against the wall, while she sneakily cast sidelong glances filled with resentment in her direction. The longer their gazes locked, the more difficult it became to look away. She detected a palpable hostility emanating from the dead woman, yet it also held a touch of something familiar. It was a look she had never encountered before—neither from the demoness nor Dante's second sister. 

"Y—You betrayed me, didn't you?" Isabella mumbled, dragging her knees towards her chest and holding them close. "I did everything, but it was never enough… Never…argh!" She convulsed, and Dante lifted his hand, his fingers curling as a black sphere was drawn out of the woman.

Anastasia asked Dante, "What is that?" 

"The final remnants of her memories from when she was an earthling," Dante replied, watching the sphere as it passed through the rods of the cell. "These are often used to determine the severity of a soul's punishments. Initially, they are often bright, but over time, they grow dark as the soul's recollections fade due to the amount of time spent here. An empty shell."

Anastasia watched Dante catch hold of the black ball, its movement akin to wisps of smoke, before he squished it, causing the sphere to unravel into threads that dissolved upon contact. Feeling dizzy, she blinked, and in the next moment, she found herself transported to the past. 

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