Crystal Shoes

Crystal Shoes

This is a story unlike any fairy tale, with an ending no one could have imagined. Many times, I've wondered why those who pass down fairy tales would cloak a blood-stained story in a warm and romantic guise. Is it possible for a prince and Cinderella to live happily ever after?

Lying in my narrow space, isolated from life and death, I often felt Louisa's soft, red lips gently brush against my ear. "Quide," I heard her call me, her voice like a wisp of gauze, "Did you hear me, Quaide? Forgive me for not being your eternal companion, but I already exist in your eternal memory. The three of us are destined not to be from the same world, so we are destined to exist only in each other's memories."

Yes, she exists in my memory. Her silky brown hair, her crystal-clear blue eyes, her full and lovely lips, her melodious voice, and all the memories she gave me, whether joyful or painful, will remain forever in my memory.

I first met Louisa over two hundred and fifty years ago, in the autumn. You don't need to ask where it was; just know it was a cemetery. Yes, I am a vampire, and vampires are naturally often associated with cemeteries. On quiet, clear moonlit nights, I like to stroll in this world of death. The putrid stench of death in the cemetery refreshes me, and occasionally I ponder questions like "to be or not to be." Years of hunting have made my sense of smell exceptionally keen. When the wind carries the scent of life, the alluring fragrance of fresh, red bodily fluids, you can imagine my excitement—this is a midnight snack bestowed upon me by heaven.

What followed was, naturally, my prey, hidden behind the graves, captured—a woman who had recklessly stumbled into the Cemetery of Death in the middle of the night. My prey screamed in terror, her head drooping to one side. I gripped her slender neck, pulled down her hood, revealing my long, sharp teeth. The pale moonlight shone on the woman's pale face, and what did I see? Was it Emily? My poor, tragically deceased cousin? God, how much she resembled her! Her waist-length brown hair, her beautiful face, even the sorrow in her closed eyes. Emily, my little Emily, have I hurt you again?

As my trembling hand fell to my side, I heard gunshots and men's shouts. When I looked up, my cloak had been pierced by a musket shot. I released the girl just in time and disappeared into the darkness of the cemetery. Of course, I didn't go far.

Perhaps the girl's screams attracted passersby, for three young men rushed over. Like in all tales of heroes rescuing damsels in distress, one of them, a young knight who had fired a shot at me, and his companion roused the girl and offered her some kind of solicitous suggestion. The girl thanked them politely, but as the distant tolling of monastery bells drifted in, she glanced at the young knight in a panic and quickly fled the cemetery. The young knight picked up the lilies the girl had dropped, gazing longingly at her retreating figure.

I returned to my manor and woke my servant. Adam, he wasn't a vampire; the only reason he was willing to live with me, besides repaying a debt (he was once a convict whom I rescued), was for my money. Before I became a vampire, I was one of the wealthiest lords in the Pyrenees. And I never drank his blood, simply because I needed him to do some things for me in the sunlight.

Adam quickly understood my intention, whistled, and went back to sleep. Actually, I had already recognized the girl from her clothes as a boarder at the nearby convent, so I hoped that after Adam figured out the girl's identity, I could see her again.

As the first rays of dawn broke, I retreated into my coffin. In the suffocating darkness, I painfully recalled that distant era and the love that had driven me to despair and changed my life. Emily, my Emily… I clutched the necklace around my neck, the one containing my cousin's portrait, and murmured her name over and over again.

Night fell quietly again. As I idly played the piano, Adam brought me the news I wanted to know. His shrewdness and quick wit allowed him to easily glean information about the boarding girls from the doorkeeper, the gardener, and others. The girl, who bore a resemblance to my cousin, was named Louise, the daughter of a wealthy merchant named Arno from a nearby village and his ex-wife. After Louise's mother died, Mr. Arno married the widow of a fallen baron. This sharp-tongued woman brought her three pampered daughters with the baron, and within three days of their arrival, she banished Louise to a convent. A month earlier, Mr. Arno had died of illness, and the former baroness, disgusted by the harshness of country life, had used the merchant's money to buy a house in the capital. That very morning, she left with her daughters, and Louise was taken away with her.

I believe that last night Luisa was in the cemetery saying goodbye to her deceased father. Luisa, was that her name? An angelic girl, oh God, I almost ruined her.

That night, I suddenly realized that even after four hundred years of being baptized in blood, my heart was still so sensitive. Was this me? A cold-blooded hunter with four hundred years of vampire experience? I thought Emily's death would be enough to chill my heart to the bone, leaving me to live forever alone in the world of darkness. But Emily returned, transformed into Louisa. Did this reunion foreshadow something? Was it possible for me to find my love again?

A week later, I arrived in the capital. My newly purchased house was located next to Mrs. Arnaud's house, so that I would have the opportunity to be close to Louise.

Every night, I would linger in front of my neighbor's door, lost in thought, often muttering to myself like a poet pondering over words. My elegant attire, rather handsome face, and pensive gaze easily attracted the attention of the woman who frequently passed by and her three daughters. They would giggle and strike poses in my presence. But I never saw Louisa, the woman I longed to meet.

One evening, at Adam's urging, I took my six-stringed guitar and played a beautiful serenade under the girls' window. Instead, the owner's three daughters, each with a distinct appearance, appeared on the balcony. The youngest, with her pointed face and monkey-like cheeks, giggled and whispered something to her fleshy older sister, only to be punched hard by her. "He likes me!" the older sister shouted. Her younger sister cried out hoarsely, her claw-like fingers scratching wildly at her older sister. And so, the two girls started fighting right before my eyes, on the balcony. The second sister, with her sparse blond hair and pockmarked face, seized the opportunity to lean over the balcony and beckon me coyly, calling my name in a sweet, childish voice. A letter, folded to the size of a palm, fell at me. The nauseatingly strong fragrance emanating from the letter almost knocked me out; I fled back to my lodgings.

---Magpie Bridge Fairy

Reply [4]: After closing the door, Adam was chuckling by the window. Of course, he wouldn't miss my embarrassment. I even suspected that he had anticipated this outcome and deliberately made me look foolish. I showed him my sharp, shiny teeth and glared at him fiercely. Adam sat on the windowsill nonchalantly, picked up the violin I had thrown aside, sang a line from the serenade I had just sung, and then said, "Master, you should have bitten those three ladies to death, not me."

"I'd rather starve to death than taste such filthy blood." I slumped into my chair, beginning another long sigh. "Luisa, Luisa, where are you hiding..."

Adam sat on the windowsill singing, driving me crazy. I was almost ready to kill him without thinking, when he finally told me some news: apparently, in a few days, the king would be choosing a bride for the prince, and a grand ball would be held at the palace for three consecutive days, open to all eligible young women in the city. Of course, I didn't believe the prince would choose a girl of ordinary status as his wife; it was just a formality, and everything had already been decided before the ball. But the most important thing was that I might see Louise because of it.

On the night of the ball, I awoke from my sleep, opened the coffin lid, and was greeted by the cacophony of voices from the streets. Looking out the window, I saw a constant stream of elegantly dressed young women, luxurious carriages, and servants in gilded uniforms passing by on their way to the palace. It was as if the entire city was celebrating; lively crowds thronged the street corners, pointing and gossiping about the foreign dignitaries invited to the ball, and of course, they didn't overlook the city's own ladies and socialites.

The neighbor's door opened, and I stared wide-eyed as Madame Arno, swaying her hips, emerged with her three daughters. Even as they boarded the carriage, the three sisters, behaving grotesquely, continued their incessant bickering. One tugged at another's embroidered sash, shouting that it was hers; the other fiercely snatched her sister's linen handkerchief, their struggle turning red in the face. "I'm going crazy! I'm going crazy! You fools, shut your mouths!" Madame Arno shrieked, looking as if she were about to faint. "The prince, your goal is the prince, don't act like country women..."

The onlookers kept jeering, and I saw Adam caught in the middle, adding fuel to the fire by praising the eldest sister's bow and saying that the second sister's diamond brooch would have been more suitable for the little sister. Finally, Mrs. Arno slapped each of her daughters to stop them, but the three daughters continued to curse and swear at each other.

I didn't see Louisa until the carriage left. Where was she? Why was she nowhere to be seen during this joyous festival? Had she been sent to the convent again? Perhaps I should go check on her at the neighbor's house. Yes, I should have done so long ago, but I hadn't shown my magic because I wanted to interact with Louisa normally.

Under the cover of night, I quietly used magic to open the side gate to my neighbor's garden.

A silent courtyard, a silent house. There was no trace of Louisa in any of the spacious, clean rooms. Where was she? Was she really not here? I asked myself, stepping out of the deserted hall and retracing my steps towards the garden gate. The trees swayed gently in the night breeze, rustling softly, seemingly mingled with low sobs. It was the girl crying! At the same time, I smelled that familiar scent. Louisa, it was Louisa! My heart pounded as I slowly walked towards the source of the sound.

It was a corner of the garden, overgrown with miscellaneous trees. In the corner of the wall covered with vines, there was a dilapidated well, and a girl dressed in tattered clothes was lying on the well's edge, her shoulders heaving slightly. Although she was not making a sound, I knew she was crying.

“Luisa?” I said softly.

The girl's body jolted viol

……