Lucien faded. His skin turned translucent. Élise placed the crystal heart in his chest. "Will it work?" Clémence asked.
"Only if he remembers why to beat," Élise whispered.
She pricked her finger. Mixed her blood with crushed petals from her scars: - White roses (her sacrifice) - Crimson thorns (their pain) - Rainwater (Paris streets where they met)
She anointed Lucien's lips with the perfume. "Souvenir d'Amour," she named it. Memory of Love.
Nothing happened.
Clémence wept. "He's gone, Élise."
Then— A gasp. Lucien's hand twitched. His crystal heart flared gold. He sat up. Touched Élise's white hair.
"You… cut your hair?" His voice was rough. New. Élise's hope died. Still no memory.
But he lifted her scarred hand. Kissed each ridge. "It suits you. Like moonlight." He didn't remember her—but his soul remembered love.
A year later. White Rose Perfumery reopened. No magic. No monsters. Just Élise, Clémence, and Lucien—rebuilding.
Lucien relearned surgery. His crystal heart glowed when he healed children. Clémence grew lavender on the rooftop. "For new memories," she said.
Élise created normal perfumes. But sometimes, she'd catch Lucien watching her. A flicker in his eyes—almost recognition.
One autumn evening, he brought her a single white rose. "Why this?" she asked. "It smelled like you," he said simply. "Like courage."
He still couldn't recall their past. But he took her hand. "Tell me our story again. From the beginning."
As Élise spoke—of stolen perfumes and vampire balls, of betrayals and abbey fires—Lucien listened. Truly listened.
After, he slid her engagement ring back onto her finger. "Marry me. Again. This time, I'll remember."
Rain tapped the windows. Somewhere, a clock chimed. Élise kissed him—her surgeon, her hunter, her blank slate and fresh start. "Yes."
Outside, a shadow watched. Where it stepped, crimson petals bloomed in the cracks of the street. The end was just another beginning