Marie sighed as she looked at the few clothes she had that could be used for training with Verlaine.

The combinations she could indulge in were definitely small compared to the potential of her wardrobe, but she was a stylist and didn't let herself lose heart. From day one she had tried to maintain a certain style, even if her master was on another level.

In a fortnight she had seen him use more shirts and jackets than anything else.

Jackets that rested only on his shoulders without their precariousness hindering his movements.

She remembered when he told her that he would teach her not to make noise in heels. Maybe then she would be able to do all those things in her princess dresses.

And wearing all the accessories she used to wear and which she was giving up for the moment.

She wanted to avoid Verlaine trying to strangle her with a necklace.

Or that he would turn a simple clasp into a lethal weapon.

By now she expected everything from the man.

She was considering the rings to match when the ringing of the phone interrupted her.

She brought it to her ear without making the caller wait even a second.

She had been waiting for that call for almost twenty-four hours now.

'Well?' She shouted again before Yosano could utter a word.

Yosano laughed.

'Then what?' She poked her. Marie huffed.

'You know what I want to know... how did it go with that girl?'

'You also disappeared for a week, and I almost had to beg you to come out to get your explanations, remember?'

Marie quipped.

The friend had a point after all.

'I will never stop thanking you for what you did yesterday.' Yosano whispered.

'It went well then?'

'Very well.' She sighed.

'So, I'd say she's not just a beautiful woman, right?'

'Beautiful?!?' Yosano exclaimed indignantly. 'Ozaki is a goddess, she's not just beautiful!'

Marie smiled at the phone. It really pleased her to hear her so happy.

The only thing she could hope for was that the woman didn't hold any surprises in store.

She left her with a strange first impression.

In theory it was they who had taken the regrettable action of following her and yet in the end it seemed that it was she who was following them.

Perhaps she had also been electrocuted by Yosano and had decided to overlook their stalking?

'And besides being beautiful, she's a really cultured woman! Just think... She got me a ticket to see Yashitsune Senbonzakura!'

Marie was speechless.

'She's taking you to see the Ningyō Jōruri!!!?'

'Yesssss!!! I still can't believe it!'

'We were leaving a bar when we passed by a poster advertising it and I let slip that I had tried to get tickets, but when it was my turn only the overpriced ones were left. You remember, don't you? I was aiming for the ones that were cheaper because they were the only ones I could afford. And then she told me that, if I wanted, she had one more because one of her friends had decided not to go and so she would be alone...'

'Wow... she's rich too?'

Yosano sighed.

'I'm afraid of where she wants to take me for dinner.'

'Don't worry! I'm convinced it'll be fine!'

'Even her lips are so...'

'What?' Marie almost shrieked. 'What do you mean? Don't tell me...'

'Yes, Marie. Yesterday. Before we said goodbye... there was a kiss.'

Marie fell silent, considering what to say.

'It happens that people kiss so early, there's nothing wrong with that. If you like someone you don't let them get away.'

'Aren't you guys getting ahead of yourselves?'

'Trust me, Marie. When it'll happen to you, you'll understand.'

The girl muttered a yes in response.

'I'll let you know how it goes, alright?'

'Alright, have fun.'

'I will! See you soon, Marie.'

'See you soon!'

When it'll happen to you, you'll understand.

Marie remained focused on those words. Maybe it really was something she would understand when it happened to her, yet it seemed so absurd to her to think about kissing someone she had known for not even twenty-four hours.

It all seemed so rushed and unromantic to her, but perhaps; she had read too many novels in her life.

Probably in the time it would have taken her to let go to a first kiss, someone like Dazai would have made out with ten different girls.

She decided to put down the phone and finish preparing the next day's outfit.

There was no use brooding over things that would make her feel worse.

She descended the stairs leading to Verlaine's den with a familiar knot in her throat.

The same one that had accompanied her when she had first used her skills against him.

She knew he would not punish her, but she could not help but fear him.

She tried to put these thoughts to rest and focus on her desire to put herself on the line.

As Yosano had reminded her, it was all in her hands.

And it also depended on her attitude.

She took courage, greeting Verlaine with all the enthusiasm in her body. The man gave her a quick nod.

All the enthusiasm Marie had in her body dissolved.

What exactly had she expected?

A warm welcome when this was nothing but the worst case Mori had given him?

She could have all the enthusiasm in the world, but he must have been bored to death training a nobody like her.

She automatically headed for the knives without waiting for any direction from Verlaine.

The blond stared at her in curiosity.

He found it highly unusual behaviour.

She remained in the chair trying to understand what his intentions were.

The girl took a knife in her hands and turned towards Verlaine, but part of her grit had already faded.

She turned it over in her hands.

'Are you going to do anything besides stare at that blade?

You know, it doesn't move by itself.'

But the blond made no sign of moving.

Marie tried to assess the situation.

It was quite obvious that any move she would make he would have stoppe her.

As she had already found herself observing several times, there was no comparison.

And there never could be if her favourite activity remained feeling sorry for herself.

She would probably never be able to match Verlaine, but she would never go anywhere without even trying.

So far the two had only tried the close attack.

And that alone was disastrous enough. She ran a finger over the blade of the knife.

How many times had she seen her father make the blades dance?

Verlaine watched the blade fall without the slightest elegance a few steps away from him.

He got up and reached for the object on the ground. In the next instant, Marie perceived something pass a short distance from her head.

Not feeling the blade fall, she turned around in curiosity.

The knife was stuck in the centre of a small painting. The girl swallowed.

'You aimed for that, didn't you?'

She dropped her gaze back to her abandoned knife on the ground.

'You're so good at everything.'

'Before I found myself here, I was a spy for the French government. My partner was the best spy the government could boast of and I had the honour of being trained by him. Everything I know I owe to him. They wanted me to become a perfect war machine, and they succeeded...'

'So, you're French?'

Verlaine pointed his gaze into Marie's, catching a nervousness in her that he feared might turn into something else.

He considered for a long time before pronouncing on the question.

'Remember that notebook you were reading last time?'

'I'm sorry... I shouldn't have...'

Verlaine shushed her.

'If I hadn't wanted you to read it I wouldn't have left it in such plain sight. It was bait to distract you with.'

'Why in French?

'Because it's hard for a Japanese person to know French, isn't it? And so while you were focusing on what I had written...'

'You wrote them? 'The man looked at her surprised.

'I beg your pardon?'

'Did you write those poems?'

'So you know French?' Verlaine asked surprised.

'Not very well, but I was taught it when I was a little girl and... those poems sounded very nice indeed.'

She paused briefly. 'Are they also part of spy training?' Marie asked hesitantly.

'In a way, yes.' Verlaine replied.

A flicker of curiosity crossed Marie's ruby eyes and the executive found himself answering her without almost realising it. 'As I mentioned earlier my partner taught me everything.'

He took another short break to formulate this without revealing too much.

'Let's say that the circumstances that led me to work for the French government were decidedly peculiar, and the partner to whom I was entrusted for missions had the delicate task of introducing me to the life of a spy and from the very first moment was forced to spend most of his time with me. One of the first evenings I saw him immerse himself in writing.

So, intrigued, I approached him.

I understood everything he had written, but at the same time it was all so obscure.

That was the language I had learnt to communicate with ever since I opened my eyes, and yet... It sounded so different from what I had been used to until then....

Arthur didn't get angry when he found me reading his words.

He wasn't angry, but he sensed my confusion and introduced me to the world of poetry.

A world to escape from harsh reality and live out the wildest fantasies.

And so, I soon found myself with a pen in my hand, scribbling nonsense words in a notebook.

Arthur liked them very much.'

Again, almost without thinking he picked up a small notebook he had nearby, opening it to a random page to show it to Marie.

Those rhyming words had also contributed to something else and images of the few moments spent in each other's warmth crowded his mind.

Sometimes he could hardly believe it was all over.

'He was right. They are beautiful.'

Marie's voice brought him back to reality.

'No attacks today?' The man asked. He hoped his intervention would dispel that note of admiration he saw in Marie's eyes.

It was too much like Rimbaud's.

And he didn't like it.

The girl's gaze returned to what he was used to seeing and he breathed normally again.

'So, maybe I won't be able to insult you in my native tongue? I'm afraid you might understand me...'

He saw a strange flicker in her eyes and decided not to go any further.

He was learning to know when he was pulling too hard.

He didn't want that to happen.

'Do you also write poetry so you can say that mine are even beautiful?'

Marie shook her head.

'Is-is that part of the training?'

Verlaine laughed.

'I'd say definitely not.

Although all things considered, it might be useful. Poems can be a great tool for passing secret messages to each other without being intercepted. But I'm also afraid it's an art that can't be learned. It is a gift one has.'

He recalled the countless times Rimbaud had brought up his gift as a poet to reiterate how in the end he too was a mere human being and not a war machine.

Verlaine used to reply that he had the Faun to thank for that supposed gift.

If Rimbaud had still been there with him, it was more than certain that they would have ended up arguing about the matter.

'But first you have much more to learn, ma chère. It is useless to know how to write poetry if you are then unable to defend yourself.'

He stole the little notebook from her and went to put it away in his precious bookcase.

Marie looked at it with a new interest that shook her to the core.

She had clearly also listened to the references to this partner from the past, picking up on tones in Verlaine that betrayed the presence of a deep connection with this mysterious man, and several questions had crowded her mind, but nothing could have prepared her for the feeling that invaded her body and mind when she realised that Verlaine was capable of producing poems of such beauty.

Disarmed.

That is how she felt as she looked at the man with a completely new gaze.

A new look that terrified her to the core.

Paul Verlaine was her teacher.

Her teacher.

The man who was making her life a living hell.

She couldn't feel interest in him.

She couldn't.

28/09/2024

I'm sorry 'cause at the end it took me more than a fortnight to be back with you, BUT at least Verlaine is back we us and, as you can see, we can start the real drama from now on!

I hope you'll have fun <3