"Nurturing something created from that sacred clay, with your blood, you truly are the most insane of all, Claude."

Michael stood nearby, frowning as he watched the shimmering golden liquid flow from the cut on Claude's forearm, slowly filling the glass below. Yet, Claude's face remained calm, as if he was still that supreme angel before his exile, to be not hurt.

"What a waste...Claude, you know you're no longer an angel."

Claude silently waited until the golden liquid reached the brim of the cup before covering the wound.

"It will heal soon. I'm not that useless. Lexith needs this." Claude replied, his voice low and unnervingly composed. At least, his healing ability hadn't completely failed him. And he would keep you, at any cost.

"You know that thing is not Lexith. A piece of Lexith's soul will never be Lexith. Lexith's gone!" Michael tried to reason with him. He couldn't bear to see his closest companion continue down this path of despair.

But Michael wasn't Claude. This agony was something Claude had willingly embraced, something he had risked everything to reclaim. The deep scars left by his stripped wings on Claude's back were something he'll never let you see.

Thud- A sudden sound drew both of their attention, and Michael immediately turned invisible.

"Who?"-Claude asked, his voice sounding harsh, he thought that was a maid, but turned out you who fell on the ground, his 'Lexith'. His eyes softened. "Oh, Lexith..." He sighed, walked closer to you, picking you up inside his room. He could see the disbelief in your eyes. But what can change now even if you heard that small talk? If you know all the truth? Nothing. In the first place, he didn't tell the truth not because he was scared, it was just unnecessary for you to know. "I'm preparing your daily potion. And you should be already asleep, not falling in front of my room with bare feet. But now you're awake, I guess it's your potion time." He sat you on his lap gently and brought the glass full of golden potion to your lips. "Open, pretty."