Percy was never one to charm the ladies. If he were to charm, it would be through his stupidity. A harsh word to describe someone, but an accurate one nonetheless. If a woman liked him, it was purely out of pity, nothing more. Discontent, but hard headed, he kept on romancing whoever he would set his eyes on. One would say that he is a hopeless romantic, others would say he’s the town’s jester, looking for attention. If one were to know his occupation or his hobbies, they would classify him as a hopeless person.

Such is the harsh world of Percy. Poignant as it is, he still has experienced many adventures. Having learned at a modest school of literature, the man stuck his nose into any poet’s books that idealized wooing women, hoping that one day, he would be the one to show them all on how to really win the girl of your dreams. Despite the high goal, he did not think too highly of himself, knowing that he would need to take baby steps in order to fulfill his mission. As time went on and as his studies were to come to an end, he brought more trouble than what would be tolerated at his school, to the point of getting kicked out of it before he could graduate. Romance was a highly praised subject in poetry, but his works told little to none of it, instead opting for a more hopeless approach. If romance were to convince a woman to fall in love with the author, his ideals were to beg a prude to love him ‘till death parts them both. From there until today, he has never learned from his mistakes.

Leaving his hometown, Percy entered a new school of literary arts, one that had more prestige and had students whose exploits shone around the establishment by themselves. If Percy could graduate from there, he would know that he was in the right path all along. He would study and write more sensible works, but in secret, he would stack his works in his dormitory, eventually piling pages upon pages of scribbles, drafts and unfinished pieces in his room. He would graduate from that school, but with incessant rumors about his flirting tendencies, almost costing him his status of alumni.

Unfortunately, ever since his graduation, he could not sign any of his works to a publishing agency. Having to work as a librarian, he would waste his days away, reading books whenever nobody was bothering him, writing more of his nonsensical scripts when he was at home. His dream never disappeared, but he felt that it halted, and that he needed to find a way to move forward from his rut.

Life inside the library was not enough for him. No path was paved for him, and so he had to make his own. As time went by, day by day, Percy would go to pubs on some nights, theatres on others. He would go to these establishments for a source of entertainment other than what would be expected from the other customers: He did not look to share memories with his brethren, nor did he want to enjoy a good play: He would look for women to seduce. As he worked on his charms, which he hasn’t ever improved on, his confidence to seduce a girl for himself was enough to have him roam the streets of London, ready to find the love of his life. Of course, a certain serial killer had to exist at the same time, so no women were found in any borough at passed sunset. Luck struck him badly, but he persisted aimlessly.

Looking at the big picture, his persistence led him nowhere. However, one night, right as he closed the library, he found a lady, roaming about the streets, looking lost. She wore a large hat, hiding her face and even almost her body with it. Her dress was adorned with frills and ribbons, making her look like a child’s doll. After his long day of working, or rather, sitting behind the counter, he could not muster up his flirting powers, however effortless as his flirting has been in the past. Approaching the lady, he asks if she was lost. The lady acquiesced and was brought to her desired location safely. She thanked the poet countlessly, insisting that she’s in debt to him. Closing the door to the building, she left Percy outside without an invitation, not that he expected anything more than a simple thanks for his actions. He still felt satisfaction from that moment.

The following day, the lady entered the library, immediately setting her sights at the patron. At first, when she entered, he could not recognize her, not that he has a bad memory, but rather that she couldn’t be recognized or even identified from their moment the previous night. She had long, dark hair, extending all the way to her chest, with brown eyes and a gentle smile at all times. Her dress was far different from the other one, with bright colors and lace to decorate its simplistic patterns. She was no doll this time, but a mature woman, brimming with life. No introductions were made. Instead, she asked Percy out for a date. He did not know what brought her to invite him to such an occasion, but the romantic in him blurted out a very nervous “Yes” before returning to a state of silence and disbelief.

His date only consisted of tea time during his working hours. Luckily for Percy, not a single soul wandered the library for the day, partially attributed to the entrance being well hidden from all the shops surrounding it. They’ve exchanged stories, laughs and book recommendations. While Percy was a librarian, the stories he has read have been kept to a niche category of romance and nothing else. That much was quickly noticed by the lady, who found even more interest in him, quite possibly in a romantic sense.

From the romanticist’s recommendations, he loosely mentioned some works of his. While they were not published, he still kept some manuscripts near him while he was working, on the off chance that he had a flash of brilliance to write immediately. After a quick read, the lady started giggling. It was hard to tell why or what she was giggling about, but she did it as she read the works from start to finish.

“Dear, you are quite an interesting charmer.” She said. “I like you, you know?”

Not only was Percy dealing with a beautiful woman, he was dealing with a bold one, too.

“Lady, you’ve set your eyes on me, just as I’ve set my eyes on you. Your presence alone has blessed me and my days to come. Should we meet again, let the moments make us euphoric until time’s end.”

His poor attempt at on-the-go poetry has made the lady giggle once more.

“I shall assure you to that. Thank you for the wonderful time, sir…”

“Percy...”

Silence, but for a short moment.

“... And you?”

The lady stands up, ready to leave. Before turning to the door, she smiles at him, eyes closed.

“Marie.”

The date at the library changed Percy, although not entirely: He wrote less "romantic" poems, rather wanting to focus on his work as a librarian. His eyes would periodically dart at the entrance door, in the hopes to find Marie walking in. Some days, she would come over and share a few stories. Some days, the door never opened. Marie's commitment to a relationship that was never pronounced as so has done nothing but haze Percy's thoughts as to figuring out if the one he loves really loved him back. Nevertheless, he was hopeful and prayed for her return for every day he worked at the library.

Fortunately for him, the relationship would blossom further, when Marie would ask him to travel with her. Without a second thought, he agreed, closing shop earlier than usual, letting the books accumulate dust for a few days.

They traveled up north, visiting farms and coastal villages. There was no set location to go to, they simply traveled to wherever the road let them. The couple had more intimate times, but they were for sharing words of love and somewhat confusing moments of kissing, with abstinence being on the forefront of those moments. Marie was close, but distant enough to hide something from Percy. He knew, but he cared so little of it.

On the way back, Marie had an accident and fell off a cliff. It wasn't too high, but it was enough to know that it would be a painful fall. Percy had to rush her back to the city and find a doctor, carrying the unconscious woman and her luggage, as well as his, on his own. He was lucky enough to find a carriage ride back and deliver her to a hospital, where she woke up, dazed and confused. Upon meeting eyes with her savior, she could only muster up a few words of introduction to Percy. The introduction, however, never mentioned a name, not hers or his.

Percy did not understand, but the medicine of his time figured it out very recently.

"Amnesia."

Marie has forgotten about herself and everything around her. Whether she was playing an act, was on Percy's mind, but the fact remained that she did not know him or why she was lying in a hospital bed. Try as he might, he could not jog back her memory to as it was before: Marie has lost all the memories and moments that they have shared together.

Forced to leave the building for the night, Percy left a note, describing where to find his work place. After that unfortunate day, he has not seen her since.

Life went on, or so it should have been. Percy started wooing all kinds of women to fill the void in his heart, but with much less enthusiasm and resolve. What were colorful, but disgusting words that came out of his mouth were now simply disgusting. What charm the poet had, had someone ever found any coming from him, was gone now.

On the brink of giving up, Percy wanted to go on a retreat. Whatever it was, he wanted to excuse himself from everyday life to ponder upon his own and to hopefully make light on what he has to do next. Passing by the school he graduated from, he noticed a paper on the billboard: A chance to live in an isolated world with friends and strangers alike. The intent was to stay there for a long time, but the compensation given was more than enough to skip considerations. He applied to an office, located in a sophisticated borough of the city, free of any loitering vagrants. The poet did not have to pass any test, for he was accepted on the spot. Looking forward to his new but temporary life, Percy packed his luggage and left his home, travelling to the new world by boat.

…

“Marie”

The words written crooked on the note kept him from looking elsewhere. Mernon, still watching from behind, approached the dazed poet and tapped him on his shoulder. As if he were sent a strong jolt, Percy jumped on contact, with the alchemist mirroring him, but to a lesser effect. After a brief moment of silence, Mernon notices the note once more.

“Who is this Marie fellow? Your wife?”

“She’s…”

“Your mother? You must miss her dearly.”

“She’s dead. She always has been dead.”

“Frankly, my friend, if you’re to grief over someone other than Valentina right now, it is an awkward time to do so.”

As if Mernon’s words were a switch to Percy’s gears, the grieving man stood up and left the academic house. The clock ticked midnight, an event so rarely witnessed from the island, due to their strict curfew.
Percy bolted for the church. On his way there, Therese and Gordon are seen leaving House Minerva, seemingly panicking about something…

Inside the church, the moonlight shining upon the stained glass brighten the floor, keeping the building’s interior from being shrouded in complete darkness. As the doors to the room open, Percy looks in front of him, paralyzed with fear from what he sees in front of him. A familiar silhouette, with long, dark hair, and a dress, one worn by priestesses. The figure is standing by the pedestal, facing the center stained glass. The silhouette may not be facing Percy, but he knows who he is looking at.

“Marie…”

Seconds later, two people enter the scene. Therese and Gordon are catching their breath after running after the poet. Therese catches her breath first.

“Percy, have you seen Valentina’s corpse? We look away for one second and then she’s gone by the other! If you-”

Her gaze immediately sticks to the silhouette in front of her. The body turns around, and a familiar face shows itself to the group, eyes open and a face that conveys confusion and pain. Therese steps forward, as if she needed a closer look to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. Gordon stands still with the same reaction as the other two. An air of dread is instilling between the two ends of the chapel.

“...Valentina?”