In the final moments of my life, I struggled to maintain the composure and fortitude displayed by my unfortunate friends. However, my yearning and reluctance for you shattered me. Alas, Edith, I couldn''t control the weakness that overcame me!
The torrential rain outside had yet to cease. A dazzling flash of lightning penetrated through the prison cell''s air vent, revealing a surreal sight before my eyes: it seemed as though my very soul was drifting towards me from a distance. In that hazy state of half-sleep, I began to doubt whether I had long departed this world, merely forgetting my own circumstances.
But as that figure drew near the iron bars, I recognised him as Raphael Saint-Clemont.
In that first instant, I experienced an illusion akin to gazing into a mirror — he and I bore such a striking resemblance, a fact that had somehow eluded my notice before.
However, to say so would undoubtedly carry a hint of self-praise, for I was well aware of my current wretched state: I had not eaten or watered for over a day and night, without a moment of rest, my hair disheveled, my forehead burning with fever, and my eyes, just shed of tears, must surely be red and swollen, unable to conceal the despondency and sorrow that consumed me.
Yet the man before me was glowing. His blonde hair was neatly tied back with a band, and his blue eyes, gazing down upon me, held a combination of solemnity and serenity. Beyond that, his face displayed an unprecedented confidence and determination, almost divinity, making him appear saint-like in this moment.
My mind was in a state of utter confusion, rendering me incapable of rational thought. Driven purely by instinct, I couldn''t help but feel small in the presence of this man.
Therefore, I turned my head away, resting my forehead on my hands propped on the desk, and straining to suppress the lingering sob in my voice, speaking with an as indifferent tone, "Are you here to mock me