The Ending of My Horrible Story

            As Hizaki and Yuki left to do their respective tasks, Kamijo turned back to Maria’s limp form. “You can stop pretending now, dearest.” He said with a smile. “I know that you’re faking.”

            “Maria” opened her eyes and sat up, smirking at Kamijo. “So you figured it out.” She sing-songed, winking at the vampire lord before abandoning the fake falsetto. “How long have you known?” She asked, this time with a shockingly deep voice.

            “Since I laid eyes on you, Kaya.” Kamijo said with a chuckle. “I’d heard that you could pass off as a girl, but this…I certainly wasn’t expecting you to be THAT convincing.”

            Kaya, a famous and very male vampire, grinned fiendishly. They had never met before now, but they had a mutual friend. “I AM an actor.” He said smugly. “But you weren’t such a bad actor yourself, Kamijo.”

            Kamijo snorted. “I should hope not.” He said dryly. “How’s Juka?”

            “Juka? Oh, he’s made quite the name for himself.” Kaya said flippantly. “His songs have attracted the attention of royalty.”

            Kamijo smirked. “Just like your poems, Kaya.” He remarked. “I quite enjoy reading them.”

            “Thanks.” Kaya said. “You know, Kamijo, you have quite the imaginative mind when it comes to methods of torture. But have you ever considered using that mind for other pursuits as well?”

            Kamijo raised an eyebrow. “Like what?” he asked.

            “I don’t know…” Kaya shrugged. “Poems or songs, maybe?”

            The vampire lord paused. “I’ll think about it.” He told Kaya.

            Kaya grinned. “You might want to leave now.” He suggested. I hear that Hizaki woman coming back, and you might not want to be bothered explaining this to her. I’ll explain for you.”

            Kamijo nodded, opening the door to the room in his chambers that was furnished only by a large bed. “Good night, Kaya.” He called over his shoulder as the door shut behind him.

            As Kamijo reclined on his bed, he thought about what Kaya had suggested. As he was thinking, words popped unbidden into his mind.

            “At the ball…” He sang softly. “…wearing a nice dress, the aristocrats dance and sing…not affected by the meaning of that blood either.”

            He smirked.

            So began an Aristocrat’s Symphony.