The ruins of the old mansion were still smoldering. Cracked walls, broken glass, and shattered furniture made for a desolate scene... but, oddly enough, it was comfortable in its own way. A half-burned sofa, an intact teapot on a pile of charred books, and the constant smell of sulfur in the air created a strange sense of home.
Vergil sat cross-legged on the open sill of a broken window, staring at the gloomy horizon of the underworld. The hellish city outside was slowly rebuilding itself, like a body that still felt pain but tried to ignore it. He held a cup with a dark liquid—probably wine, or something much stronger—and seemed to be thinking aloud.
Sapphire, Sepphirothy, and Morrigan went to see Cabernet and her daughter, while Ada and Vergil stayed behind.
"It's been three weeks... She's never taken this long." Vergil commented, he had something on his mind...
