Chapter 129: Bite Marks and Bracelets

The church's storage room would have been more accurately called a junk room. It was crammed with an astonishing variety of odds and ends, many of them belongings forgotten by worshippers over the years. Most of the items were cheap and unremarkable, left unclaimed for so long that they had gathered thick layers of dust, while age had yellowed and tarnished them beyond recognition.

After searching on her own for quite some time, Sophie actually found exactly what she needed, a pale green lace ribbon. Its color matched both the rose stem and the snowy jasmine petals perfectly, creating a soft, natural harmony. Jane had once taught her how to weave living plants, but Sophie still struggled to control her strength, so she planned to use the ribbon to compensate for her clumsy hands.

A floral bracelet was discreet enough to wear without attracting attention. Besides, Jane usually wore bracelets adorned with diamonds and emeralds, so she probably liked accessories of that kind. Carefully tying the ribbon into place, Sophie trimmed away the excess fabric, and the bracelet was finally complete.

Before leaving, she painstakingly returned everything she had moved to its original place. The only problem was the doorknob Alec had twisted off earlier, leaving the room impossible to lock. She could only pull the door mostly shut and hope it looked closed enough.

The corridor outside was deserted.

Sophie glanced thoughtfully at the walnut-colored doors and immediately noticed something unusual. Both doors now stood slightly ajar. Her flawless memory served her well. She distinctly remembered that when Alec had opened the storage room, both doors had still been securely locked.

Curious, she curled a finger around the reinforced metal handle on the door to the right and gently tugged.

The other walnut-colored door slowly swung open. The metallic groan of bending hinges echoed sharply through the silent hallway, sounding almost like a trap announcing its own activation, patiently waiting for someone to step inside.

The lock itself remained completely intact. That meant no one had forced it open. Someone had unlocked it with the proper key.

Sophie inhaled quietly, confirming there was no human scent inside the room. Had another vampire come here? The only ones who should possess the church's keys were the coven who had rented the building.

Driven by an entirely different sort of curiosity, Sophie quietly slipped into the equipment room. Just as she had expected, it served as the church's computer control room. Audio equipment filled one side, while a computer connected to the internet sat quietly against the wall.

"Is anyone here?" Silence answered her.

Her mind went blank. Before she even had time to think, Sophie spun around and shut the door behind her. Her body moved faster than her thoughts. Only after her back rested against the wooden door did her mind finally catch up. Then overwhelming excitement flooded through her. Even Sophie herself couldn't explain why. It was as though some wish she had buried deep inside her heart had suddenly been fulfilled without warning.

She powered on the computer. The familiar Windows startup screen appeared on the monitor, its ghostly white glow illuminating her face so brightly that she instinctively squeezed her eyes shut while blindly tapping the keyboard until the brightness lowered. Once her eyes adjusted, she opened them again, picked up the mouse, connected to the internet, and found that everything worked almost unbelievably smoothly.

The first thing she did was open her email. Dozens of unread messages flooded the screen. After clearing away the spam, only seven or eight genuine emails remained: utility bills, greetings from friends, and one message from her mother informing her that the boy next door had set the dates for both his engagement and wedding. The engagement would be held in October of this year, while the wedding itself was scheduled for March the following year.

Quietly calculating the dates, Sophie realized she would still have enough time to mail a wedding gift. Though he had only been her neighbor, they had practically grown up together since birth. They had been scolded together, watched Tom and Jerry together, copied each other's homework together, and became as close as real siblings.

Until she reached adulthood, Sophie had always secretly wished that when her family sold their house and sent her to live with another family, she could have stayed with him instead. Unfortunately, the neighbor's home had simply been too small. No one would allow an unrelated teenage boy and a ten-year-old girl to share a room.

Now that her childhood brother was getting married, had she not become an immortal creature with icy skin, she would have fought for a place among the bridesmaids.

"Mom, I'm sorry I won't be able to attend my brother's engagement ceremony." Carefully controlling the strength of each keystroke, Sophie paused to consider her wording before continuing. "This year I've moved to Italy. As I'm writing this email, I'm attending a wedding somewhere in Northern Europe."

She restrained every trace of longing she felt. Using the shortest, simplest sentences possible, she explained the changes in her life, careful not to let her mother sense anything unusual. At the end of the email, she quietly typed, "I miss you very much. I hope you and Uncle stay healthy, and I wish him smooth sailing at sea. Love, Sophie."

Her mother's work at sea lasted nine months each year. Whenever she returned to land, she stayed in the hometown of the sailor she loved, living in a small house that had belonged to his family for generations. Mother and daughter had always been absent from each other's daily lives. They had spent years trying to preserve their relationship through emails and handwritten letters.

Until now, Sophie would never be able to see her again. Thankfully, their love had always been enough.

Even with all the unfinished relationships she had to settle, Sophie's superhuman typing speed allowed her to finish everything in less than five minutes. Four of those minutes had simply been spent waiting for the internet to respond.

Taking a deep breath, she logged into the blog she had neglected for so long. With emotions far too complicated to name, she posted one final message: "For personal reasons, this account will cease updating indefinitely. All previous articles will remain available. Thank you to everyone who has supported and encouraged me over the years."

She posted a nearly identical announcement on her video-sharing account as well. There, she also permanently enabled free downloads for every video she had ever uploaded.

Finally, she opened the site's management page one last time. View counts, comments, shares, followers. For three years, that platform, built entirely upon binary code, had preserved countless traces of her brief human life. Now she had to abandon all of it. One day, when the servers finally shut down, even those digital footprints would disappear forever.

In truth, she had raced against every passing second, risking the violation of vampire law, just to leave behind one final goodbye.