Entwined With the Villainous Guardian
Chapter 52: Passing Her Memory

Chapter 52: Passing Her Memory

Viviana observed Lionel’s eyes while she contemplated. The majority of humans on earth want to leave their legacy in the world. Most do that by having kids and raising them to follow their values and leaving them an inheritance.

Then there are people like her who cannot have children who can carry their legacy. Does that mean that she is not worth remembering?

She was born Melanie Filia Dei. She doesn’t know who her parents are or if they are alive. But she knows this.

Melanie Filia Dei is dead, Viviana Mattias is dead, and she didn’t know how long Minerva Russo will be alive. She didn’t have much hope. She felt that this was going to be her last day on earth, for real.

Shouldn’t someone know her story? Shouldn’t there be at least one more person who remembers Leo after she dies?

She thought that Lionel would be the perfect person to listen to her story. Whether he makes a character out of her or of Leo, she would consider it a success.

Lionel was observing Viviana. He smiled seeing her eyes clearing up. Hugging herself, she leaned on the back of the couch and looked at him.

"It’s not my story," Viviana said. "Is that fine?"

"Whose story would that be then?" Lionel asked.

He knew she has incredible stories. Her eyes were so mystical. He had a feeling that those eyes must have seen a lot and her walled-up heart must have gone through a lot to make her who she is now. He wanted a part of her memories although he had no hopes that she will be honest with him.

"A friend’s..." Viviana smiled. "A friend told me this story that was quite similar to your first movie’s story. I think it would interest you."

She was going to tell him the story of Melanie and Leo.

Melanie, who was forgotten by almost everyone, and Leo who was dead.

Even she had forgotten a lot about herself. But she couldn’t forget Leo. The memories of Leo that were etched on her heart with a diamond tipped nib... Memories that had scratched and wounded her heart to remain; the memories that she couldn’t forget even when she wanted to, the memories that stops her from living, and the memories that kept her from dying.

Maybe it’s time she passes her memory to someone else. Maybe then, she can die in peace.

Lionel nodded. He wasn’t sure if she was telling the truth or lying. But it doesn’t matter. Those eyes... he felt like he would do anything for them.

"Okay..." Melanie emptied the glass and wetted her lips. "Where shall I start...?" she closed her eyes and looked up. "Maybe the birth story of... let’s say... what can we call her? Darcia—the dark one..."

"That’s a nice name," Lionel leaned back on the armrest to have a good view of her expressions. He already doubted if it was someone else’s story or her story.

"So..." Viviana wetted her lips once more. Her lips curved unconsciously as she remembered Father Flannagan. He was the one who told her this story—the story of how she ended up in the orphanage.

"September 29th, twenty-seven years ago. That’s when our story starts," Viviana looked at Lionel.

He nodded with a smile as he sipped wine.

"In the three centuries old All Saints Church, Father Patrick was setting up the table for communion. It was the feast day of the Archangels, and he was not happy for the cloudy weather for it would discomfort his parishioners. The doors were shut and was yet to be opened. Just as he finished setting the table, he thought he heard a knock at the door..."

Lionel raised his glass. "You’re good, Bellissima..."

Viviana shrugged with a smile as she accepted his compliment. "But the sixty-year-old thought it was just the wind and continued on with his chores. The rain started pouring, and he said a prayer in his heart for the almighty to stop the rain. The rain slowed down within a minute—a miracle. As he was about to kneel and thank the almighty, he heard a sound so low and weak as that of a hurt kitten. Thinking that it was a cat who found shelter in the church doorsteps for the rain, he opened the door to check. And there he found..." she nodded at Lionel.

"Mm mm... Darcia?" He raised his brows, pretending that he was guessing.

"Of course! You’re smart, Mr. Yannis," Viviana chuckled, and Lionel joined her contagious laughter.

"Indeed, it was little Darcia..." Viviana clenched her jaws. "When Father Patrick opened the door, he couldn’t see anyone except a woman running away in the distance with her head covered in a scarf. Only the soft purr of that little thing drew him to the doorsteps. And there she was... drenched in rain, covered only in a hand towel—the baby with a fresh umbilical cord stub. She couldn’t even cry anymore and all she could do was wheeze... It was as if..."

The universe wanted her dead. The rain poured just enough to drench her. But she had survived. It was as if she was fighting right from the start to live without her knowledge.

Viviana poured her another glass of wine. She needed it. Lionel stayed silent. By her reaction, he could see that it was personal. Or she might be extremely sympathetic.

"Other than the very small hand towel that barely covered the baby, there was a candle for St. Michael left by the baby’s side. The woman bothered to knock on the door but didn’t bother to carry the baby to the door to make sure the baby doesn’t get wet. She bothered to bring a candle, but she didn’t bother to light it for the baby. Why do you think she did that?" Viviana asked Lionel.

She used to think if that woman was her mother. She might have left her there because she was too poor to raise a sickly child. Most of the kids in the orphanage ended up there because of poverty.

But, why couldn’t she even find an old cloth to cover her? She couldn’t even spare an old bedsheet for her. So, why did she even leave a candle? Did she expect the baby to light the candle for herself? It must have been hard for her to leave her child at the Church’s doorstep. But how stone-hearted was she to leave her sickly child in the rain?

"I..." Lionel gulped as he searched for words to say. "Humans are complex to understand..."

He could see the emotional investment the woman had in this story. And he confirmed that this story is about her. Because if she was good at sympathizing, she would have talked more about the poor baby. But she wanted to know more about the mother.

Hmm... interesting...

He rubbed his chest.

Why is this story so familiar to the story he knows?

Oh, Leander! Who did you find? Who did you give your heart to?