Love,Written In Ruins-Chapter 61: Movie Night

By evening, the estate no longer felt like a monument carved from silence.

Lights glowed warm instead of sharp. Curtains that were usually drawn with military precision had been left slightly open, letting dusk bleed into the living room in soft purples and golds. The air smelled like baked dough, melted cheese, and something unmistakably alive—laughter, movement, the hum of people existing without fear of disturbing a master.

Eloise had started it.

After the afternoon of cooking—risotto primavera that had disappeared in minutes, garlic-herb chicken that left the kitchen smelling like heaven, and a chocolate mousse so rich it made even the stoic Marcos close his eyes on the first bite—she’d decided the night needed more. So she declared a movie night.

Ian had raised an eyebrow when she said that but helped her set things up without comment, she dragged every spare cushion and throw blanket into the grand living room.

No one had dared refuse her.

Now she stood in the kitchen, wearing soft gray crop top and high-waisted jeans she’d bought that afternoon. Hair loosely tied back, and flour smudging her cheek like war paint. Sliding the last pizza out of the oven.

She had made eight pizzas from scratch. There were classic Margheritas for the traditionalists, spicy diavolas for the guards who liked the burn, and a strange, experimental white pizza with truffle oil and honey that Andrés had specifically requested.

"Careful," she warned as Leo reached for it too quickly. "That one will blister your fingerprints off."

Leo hissed and snatched his hand back. "I was testing its emotional readiness."

Marcos snorted. "You were being greedy."

"I am always emotionally ready for pizza," Leo argued.

Mary laughed—actually laughed—as she grabbed plates from the counter. The sound still surprised her, even as it bubbled out naturally now. Laughter had been a dangerous thing in this house once. Something done quietly, behind doors. Something rationed.

Not tonight.

"Andrés!" Eloise called. "Tell them to stop fighting over pepperoni."

From the living room came Andrés’s voice, lazy and amused. "I refuse to involve myself in battles I know Leo will lose."

"Traitor!" Leo shouted back.

Listo—Luciano’s notoriously aloof, sharp-eyed companion—darted across the marble floor, skidded slightly, and planted himself near the pizza boxes—actual cardboard boxes—tail flicking with interest. His silver eyes followed every movement like a general surveying a battlefield.

"No," Eloise said firmly, pointing at him. "Yours is the chicken. Don’t dare try to sneak steal. I’m watching you."

Listo sneezed and turned his head away, deeply offended.

By the time Eloise carried the pizzas into the living room, the space looked nothing like the cold, immaculate chamber it usually was.

In the living room, the massive 110-inch screen—usually reserved for Luciano’s grim international news cycles or stock market tickers—was alive with the vibrant, breathing colors of Demon Slayer: Infinity Castle (2026) —the first part of the trilogy everyone had been waiting for. The one that had the whole world weeping in theaters.

Guards lounged casually on the far couches, jackets discarded, weapons nowhere in sight. A few maids sat together near the side chairs, whispering and laughing, still half-expecting to be scolded for existing too loudly. Marcos sat cross-legged on the floor like a man who had forgotten he was supposed to be intimidating. Leo sprawled nearby, using a cushion as a backrest.

Once everything was in place, Ian withdrew quietly, mentioning he had work waiting for him upstairs. The door to his room closed soon after, and the house carried on without interruption. Maya did not join them.

Mary had claimed a spot on the rug beside the sofa—close to Eloise, close enough to feel safe.

Andrés sprawled in the armchair opposite her, legs kicked up on an ottoman, three slices stacked on his plate like a tower of carbohydrates.

"Is this the 2026 movie?" one of the guards asked.

"Yes," Andrés replied. "And before anyone asks—yes, it will emotionally destroy you."

"That sounds like a challenge," Leo muttered.

The opening music swelled, familiar and haunting, and conversation faded into attentive silence.

Eloise sank into the sofa, plate balanced on her lap, Listo hopping up beside her without asking this time. He curled against her thigh, warm and smug.

As the movie progressed, reactions began to ripple through the room.

Gasps. Soft curses. Someone sniffled during a particularly brutal scene.

"Oh no," Mary whispered, clutching a pillow.

"Not her. Please not her."

Andrés glanced sideways. "First time?"

Mary nodded miserably.

"Welcome to pain," he said gently.

By the midpoint, pizza boxes were half-empty, plates littered with crusts, and the emotional investment in the room had reached dangerous levels.

"I still don’t forgive him," Marcos said quietly during a tense moment.

Leo shook his head. "You’re missing the point."

"Explain it then," Marcos challenged.

"Later," Leo said. "This scene matters."

Mary sighed, dreamy. "Doma is my favorite."

Leo let out a snort, his bald head reflecting the flickering blue light of the screen. "The Upper Moon Two? The guy who eats women like appetizers? You serious?"

​"It’s the aesthetic, Leo! You wouldn’t understand," Mary shot back with a playful roll of her eyes.

She then shrugged, cheeks pink. "He’s beautiful. And tragic. He was raised in a cult. Never felt real emotion. Everything was fake smiles and fake love until he became a demon. He didn’t choose it—he was made that way. And in the end... he still wanted to be loved. Even if he didn’t understand what love was... it’s not fair to blame him entirely."

Andrés snorted, wiping sauce from his thumb. "Fair? He’s a monster."

"But a pretty one," Mary countered, chin lifted. "And he’s lonely. That’s why he keeps trying to make friends with Shinobu. Deep down he wants connection."

One guard from the back wall grunted. "Deep down he wants lunch. He ended up eating Shinobu anyway."

Everyone laughed—easy, unguarded. Eloise felt something loosen in her chest.

Andrés turned to her, one brow arched. "What about you, Eloise? Favorite character?"

The room quieted again, all eyes on her. She took a slow sip of her iced cocoa drink—still cold from the ice cubes—and considered.

"Akaza," she said finally.

Leo groaned. "Not you too."

Eloise smiled faintly. "Hear me out. He didn’t become a demon by choice. Life decided for him—his master, the poison, the endless fighting. He was a martial artist who believed in strength and honor, and then everything was stripped away. He remembers his human life in fragments, but he can’t go back. That regret... it’s in every punch he throws. He fights like he’s punishing himself as much as his opponent."

Silence settled, softer this time.

Mary looked up at her, eyes shining. "Exactly. He’s angry at the world, but mostly at what it made him."

Andrés stared at Eloise, his slice of pizza halfway to his mouth. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward; it was heavy with realization. Eloise wasn’t just talking about an anime character; she was talking about the architecture of a soul. She was talking about how a "nice" person, as Andrés had described Luciano earlier, could be forged into a weapon.

Something flickered in his expression—recognition, maybe, or respect. "Didn’t expect that from you."

Eloise shrugged. "I know what it’s like to have choices taken away. To wake up one day and realize the person you were is gone, and the person you are now was forced on you. Akaza gets that. He’s not innocent, but he’s not pure evil either. He’s... human underneath the demon."

Marcos whistled low. "Deep. I just like the way he punches things."

​"I’m serious!" Leo added, waving a crust. "The animation in this 2026 release is insane. I feel like I’m actually in the Infinity Castle."

Another guard cleared his throat.

"I like Giyu," he said. "To be able to fight Upper Moon Three kid’s got heart."

A different maid nodded. "And Zenitsu. Crybaby but terrifying."

Mary smiled shyly. "I like Shinobu too. She smiles while she poisons people."

Andrés laughed. "Remind me never to cross you, Mary."

The group dissolved into lighter chatter—debates over whether Tanjiro’s kindness was strength or stupidity, whether Nezuko was the real MVP, whether Inosuke’s boar head was peak fashion. Listo stretched, yawned, then padded across the rug to steal a pepperoni slice from Marcos’s box. Marcos pretended outrage; the fox just blinked at him innocently.

Eloise leaned back, bare feet tucked under her, pizza slice half-eaten in her hand. Mary rested her head against the sofa cushion beside Eloise’s knee, content. Andrés caught her eye and raised his soda can in a small, silent toast. She returned it with a tiny smile.

That was the scene Luciano walked into.

He was still in his dark suit—tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly mussed from the drive. He carried the faint scent of city air and cigar smoke.

His living room—his living room—filled with people sprawled on sofas and floors, pizza boxes everywhere, the massive television playing the climax of Infinity Castle

"Wait, wait!" Leo shouted, pointing at the screen. "Is he actually going to use that form? No way!"

​"He’s going to do it!" Mary squealed, clutching Eloise’s knee.

​Eloise leaned forward, the flickering light of the battle reflecting in her eyes. "Watch his hands, Mary. It’s all in the hands." 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

Luciano stood frozen.

His brother lounging in an armchair like he hadn’t a care in the world, guards and maids scattered across the floor in a mess of blankets and pizza boxes, Mary curled at Eloise’s feet like a loyal cat, Listo sprawled across a cushion with grease on his whiskers.

And Eloise—his Paloma—laughing at something Leo said, her face open and unguarded in a way he’d rarely seen.

The estate had always been perfect: cold marble, precise lines, absolute control.

Eloise glanced up first.

Their eyes met across the room.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t shrink. She simply held his gaze, a slice of pizza halfway to her mouth, and offered the smallest, bravest smile.

The room noticed him then—laughter dying, postures straightening. Marcos and Leo stood. Mary scrambled to her feet. Even Listo lifted his head.

Andrés noticed him later.

"Well, well," he drawled. "The movie critic returns."