[Inspired by an upcoming official art of Henri by Kira. The design too.] [Contains Pocket Mirror spoilers.]

It had been years since the Heilige household went down. Everyone knew, yet no one never really mentioned them, as if they had never existed. The late Lady Elise, Lord Roman not to be found again, and poor Goldia, locked in an asylum to hopefully awaken in a golden dawn someday. He was gone too, the forgotten one - Henri, who everyone thought dead like his mother.

That was, the ones who had known he ever existed. Forgotten in the shadows casted by Goldia, Henri had barely been looked in the eye. Few people, like you, had ever got to speak to him, to that male mirror image of the splendorous sister of stolen name. Henri die Heilige, a lone star, bound to fall like Lucifer, for he had escaped and met the devil that tricked his mother. It was hard to know if you had been 'friends' or anything of the sort, but who really cared - he had never been good at these things.

Henri had completed his wish of eloping, vanishing into the night with Ozzy. He had left everything behind - the manor, his family, the few people who looked at him, you. And you had moved on too. Whatever could you do? These things happened, households would fall down, rich men would become poor, people would disappear. Everything was always brushed off as gossip shared in tea parties. You had carried on with your life, becoming an adult, barely remembering these parties hosted by the Heilige, where teen-you met teen-Henri.

His image, however, was barely there any more. You could not remember Goldia's voice in those speeches, Roman's moustache or Henri's sailor outfits. With time, memories faded, and the brain struggled to remember in the abysses of nostalgia which shut down fading faces and voices.

Yet an unexpected night, memories were awakened anew, and your chest was met with somersaults of something.

In the shadows of that Victorian capital, of the pretty Vienna, the city of Columbine and Pierrot, you met a familiar eye - yes, a single eye. The other was unknown. He stood taller, a blue hat with a red feather hanging. Little horns emerged from under it, illuminated by the Sun's sister. Clad in blue and red clothes - yet not sailor-ish any more -, decorated with star motifs, the long sleeves almost covered his hands. His hair, the same. The familiar red eye stared at you, the other one an unknown yellow, with a goat's pupil.

Under Ozzy's influence yet the same. Henri was alive, and, just like you, he was an adult now. A flicker of recognition flashed his unusual eyes, the star-shaped buttons making a small twinkling as he took a step forward.