Georg Schwarz turned out to be another humanities student at the University of Ingolstadt. However, unlike Henry, who studied literature, Georg was immersed in the field of philosophy, as he quickly explained once the formal introductions were concluded.

Victoria believed she had seen him before, from a distance and on isolated occasions. She never paid much attention to Henry's circle of friends; she knew he was friendly and enjoyed being among people he liked. However, Victoria considered herself the opposite and, therefore, never bothered to ask him to include her in those groups.

The scientist preferred to have one or two good and lasting friendships rather than a crowd of people she liked but wouldn't trust with all her secrets. This didn't mean she admired Henry any less for his ability to form and maintain alliances. On the contrary, Victoria recognized how much easier her life would be if she had the same skill. Yet, she hadn't even confessed to Henry about Évelyne's origins after two years.

"I think it's going quite well," Henry commented, walking alongside her on the cobbled streets of the city. "Our dear Évelyne seemed nervous at first, but I would say she's getting the hang of it now."

It was clear that Évelyne was starting to feel more comfortable among friends. The group had met up about fifteen minutes ago in a square not far from the city center, deciding to take a leisurely walk to the riverbanks to enjoy the scenery and spend a peaceful day getting to know each other better.

Now, heading towards their destination, Évelyne and Georg walked a few steps ahead, while the other two lagged behind just enough to not hear the conversation between the couple. However, they could observe that both were laughing and talking continuously, as if they were old friends.

"She learns quickly," Victoria confirmed without committing too much.

Henry nodded. "I don't understand what you were so worried about. Not everyone is as awkward as you when it comes to social interactions, and Évelyne clearly isn't one of those people struggling with this."

"I never said Évelyne was incapable or anything like that."

"I always had confidence in her," Victoria wished she could add, but that would have been a blatant lie, even if Henry didn't catch it. The truth was that Victoria, while not denying Évelyne the freedom to do what she deemed appropriate, had always been fearful of her interactions with the rest of the world.

At first, it was the fear that Évelyne might behave aggressively in certain situations. Later, when Victoria was sure there was no violence in her character, the concern shifted to what less considerate people could do to Évelyne if she let her guard down.

"The problem with Évelyne, if you ask me," Henry continued, "has nothing to do with her character but with a certain person she shares an apartment with."

"I can't imagine who that might be."

"You protect her too much. Realistically, how many times have you taken her out of the house to, let's say, introduce her to the many friends and acquaintances you have?"

"That's easy. I would say as many times as close friendships I have. In other words, exactly one," Victoria pointed out the obvious. "Though maybe even claiming one would be giving me more credit than I deserve, considering you were the one who took the initiative."

No, Victoria didn't have more close friends besides Henry. It was as obvious as the sun rising in the east.

"No, I realize that, even if you wanted to, you'd be the right person to turn to for meeting new people. Maybe I should forget about Évelyne and focus my efforts on you, so you can finally break out of that antisocial bubble once and for all."
It was a half-joking suggestion, and although the question wasn't serious, Victoria knew that if she agreed, Henry would follow through with the offer.

"If you haven't achieved that in all these years since we've known each other, I doubt you'll succeed now," Victoria remarked, with the same joking tone.

She had already apologized to him for their unfortunate confrontation the other day, and as expected from Henry, he had accepted the apologies with a friendly smile, dismissing any lingering concerns Victoria might have had.

"You never know. One's personality is not immovable; people can surprise you," Henry said, with the intensity of someone who has witnessed many changes around him. "For example, the first few times I talked to Évelyne, I had the impression that she must be a practicing religious person."

"What?"

"Oh, I say that because of how she dresses and carries herself: Initially, I thought she might be in mourning, and I felt a bit sorry to ask. Then, talking to her and it being clear that wasn't the case, I thought she might be one of those people who take Catholic principles to the extreme... Which is not a bad thing, but I also thought it would be strange if she's living with you."

"Am I a bad influence even in spiritual matters?"

"Some might consider it that way, I suppose," Henry smiled, complicit in whatever both of them were thinking.

No, neither of them was particularly aligned with any specific religion. Henry was a non-practicing believer, while Victoria, with her scientific mind, leaned more towards agnosticism. She didn't criticize others' beliefs, as she didn't consider it her place to do so, but she tended to ask more questions than she should when the topic arose.

"But when I asked Évelyne about her beliefs or if she usually attends Sunday Mass, she said she wasn't sure. She believed in God, but, and this might sound curious, she wasn't sure what I meant when I mentioned the term 'Mass.'"

Victoria wanted to faceplant into a wall at that moment. Perhaps she should have addressed the topic of spirituality with the creature at some point, instead of asking her to try to forget everything and pretend that it didn't coexist with all the scientific aspects of modern society.

Évelyne might have listened to her and stopped asking questions about it, but she was intelligent. And an intelligent person wouldn't erase a piece of information just because someone asked them to, without any explanation.

"Évelyne was raised in an unorthodox way, so to speak," Victoria proceeded, thinking quickly about what she could say to excuse her without necessarily making up something that the creature could later contradict without realizing— "She came from a very traditional household where the Bible was read every night. However, perhaps because her relatives' home was somewhat distant from any city, they didn't have the habit of going to church often."

"The Lord is omnipotent; He can see and hear us wherever we are. There's no need to go to sacred ground," Henry recalled the usual comforting words he and Victoria used to hear on days when, for perfectly reasonable reasons, as children, attending the liturgy was impossible. "Although the day you have the church just steps away, and you simply don't feel like going, they insist on pointing out that you'll go to hell if you don't fulfill your worship obligations properly."

"The two sides of the same coin. But what can I tell you that you don't already know?"

"Maybe you could answer my question of why Évelyne doesn't go to Mass now that she has it close to home?"

"Perhaps you should ask her that," Victoria began slowly. She didn't think the creature would have an answer, given how little she knew about these matters, but she also didn't want to give a firm answer in her place. "I certainly wouldn't accompany her if she had wanted to go."

"Really, sometimes I find it impossible to discern how your father and brothers managed to drag you to church every Sunday when you still lived with them."

And it was no wonder that it seemed doubtful, although for Victoria, it was no mystery. She just went along with it to avoid conflict. And as soon as she had the opportunity to break away, she took it without hesitation.

The last time she had been inside a church property, in fact, was for the funeral of her younger brother several months ago.

"Speaking of your family," Henry continued, clearly recalling that unfortunate event, choosing not to continue the questioning about religious practices — "I've received a couple of letters..." Saying this, he intercepted the envelopes he had been keeping since the beginning of the walk from one of the pockets of his coat, handing them over to Victoria immediately — "Maybe you should check your correspondence from time to time. They say it's a very nice and healthy habit to adopt."

"But I do check my correspondence," Victoria murmured, putting both letters in her own coat after verifying the names of both senders. "It's just that depending on who sends it, it will have higher or lower priority when it comes to responding. You know I'm busy."

Henry gave her a skeptical look but said nothing. He knew that Victoria's relationship with her remaining family was complicated, something that was apparent even before she succumbed to that illness that left her bedridden for weeks. After that incident, it was more than confirmed by the fact that the scientist never spoke to her family about what happened and didn't confess to them about her change of address in the city.

No, for Victoria, it was easier to let all letters from her family end up with Henry, and when he found time in his schedule, he would personally deliver them to her. This way, he could serve as her conscience, reminding Victoria that she still had a duty to at least let her family know that she was well and alive. It also saved her from having to answer questions she didn't want to answer, such as, where was she living now?

It was better to point out that she continued to reside in one of the houses near the campus and that, for safety, it was better for the address on the envelopes to be that of her friend, who supposedly lived next door, to ensure she didn't get into any trouble.

Victoria's family wouldn't suspect that she was actually living on her own more than a kilometer away from the university. Even farther than where her friend continued to reside. But it didn't matter; the arrangement suited her for more freedom, and although Henry received all this correspondence, she knew he would never open it without her consent.

Proof of this was that the seal on both letters that were now handed to her was intact.

"Do you mind if we go into a tea room nearby?" Georg had inquired, turning towards them at that moment; it seemed that he already had Évelyne's approval, evident by the slight smile under her veil, and now he was seeking approval from the other two — "I'll treat."

"It was about time someone suggested it!" Henry exclaimed, in a dramatically overdramatic way — "I didn't want to say anything to avoid hurting your feelings, but I've been freezing out here for quite a while. Entering the nearest establishment and offering me a hot drink would undoubtedly improve my mood."

Victoria also agreed to take a break from the walk, though she expressed it in a more measured manner, as expected from her character.

Thus, these four people entered the establishment chosen by Georg, sitting at a central table and continuing the conversation that had been brewing since they were outside. Or, perhaps it would be more appropriate to say that three of them were doing most of the talking: Henry, as usual, was the most eager to share the latest news of the day, putting his opinion into play and encouraging others to join the debate. Georg, who also must have been accustomed to such enthusiasm, tried to keep up as best he could. And Évelyne, seeing the naturalness with which these two friends expressed themselves, also didn't take long to join in with the same enthusiasm.
Only Victoria turned out to be more cautious when speaking, initially contributing only when directly asked—or in very specific moments when she felt she had something additional to say. However, as the minutes passed and seeing that the others managed perfectly well without her, she ended up disengaging and simply sipping the tea she had ordered, listening to the conversation as background noise, not daring to continue participating.

The scientist was comfortable this way, as she always preferred listening over speaking. However, this little group seemed to have more energy than she anticipated because what initially turned into a stay of a long forty-five minutes in the tea room soon seemed like it was going to extend to two hours.

Consequently, Victoria began to get bored. Socializing was all well and good; the scientist wouldn't deny that she enjoyed spending time with friends like Henry. But her tolerance for how many hours she spent in company had a limit, and perhaps if Évelyne hadn't been there, and she didn't feel obligated to set an example, she would have excused herself a while ago.

Unable to just get up and leave without a credible excuse, and not eager to contribute to the gossip about Henry's neighbors that was now coming to light, Victoria did the second-best thing she believed she could do to not feel like she was wasting the afternoon: take the letters from her pocket and start reading them.

It wasn't the grand plan if she wanted to make friends, of course. But Victoria had long given up on that possibility, and anyway, it's not like anyone was paying attention to what she was doing, engrossed as they were in their own debate.

The first letter came from her father, although, given that he never learned to read, it had been written by her brother Ernest. And in it were the usual pleasantries.

When Victoria's family wrote, they usually did so for three distinctive reasons. The first, to inquire about how she was doing. Something common considering she was the only member of the Frankenstein family who had decided at such a young age to move away to study in another city, so far from her place of birth. The second reason was to try to convince her to come back. Sometimes this dissuasion was done subtly, letting her know that there would be some event or new business in Geneva that Victoria might or might not be interested in attending. Other times, the persuasion was more direct, pointing out that she also had a duty to them, that eventually she would have to settle down, move in with them, and start her own family.

Speaking of families, that was the third reason why they usually communicated by letter.

Since childhood, Victoria had been engaged to Eric Lavenza, a distant cousin—this time, it was indeed a real distant cousin—whose parents died in tragic circumstances. Both children were the same age, so when the scientist's parents took Eric into their home, Victoria and he quickly became inseparable.

Having grown up together, the relationship they had was far from that of a conventional couple who would one day marry; they were more like siblings. Hence, Victoria, now an adult, was trying to postpone as much as possible the fulfillment of that promise that one day they would marry.
Yes, she had chosen the University of Ingolstadt because she knew some of its professors and was aware of its international prestige, but that wasn't the only reason she decided to study so far from home. The more kilometers she put between her and her family, the fewer occasions she would have to hear her father and other relatives remind her about that pending wedding.

To be fair, Mr. Frankenstein had been quite indulgent with his only daughter, letting her go to Ingolstadt, given that she promised to return and settle down as he wanted once she completed her studies. But it seemed that, after a couple of years away and without having returned home for more than a few weeks a year, Victoria's father was running out of patience.

And that, more or less, was what the letter was about.

If Victoria hadn't lost months of study due to dedicating herself entirely to the creation of that fateful experiment for which she was still paying, it was likely that by now she would be back in Geneva, with some kind of degree under her arm and perhaps a job recommendation, no matter how minor. However, today she wasn't even sure what she wanted to do with the knowledge she had acquired or which branch of study to pursue.

After her depression, everything sounded futile. But she didn't want to go back home immediately.

She had promised her father that she would return to Geneva the following year, even before starting college, on the condition that he allowed her to pursue her studies. So, she didn't see a way to free herself from that responsibility.

What could she say? "No, I'm sorry, I'm not going back home yet because I lost more than a year creating a failed experiment, and although I'm now trying to regain interest in my original field of study, I neither have a well-established path nor do I feel like getting married right now."

That would only bring more discussions to the table! Not to mention what Eric would think about it. Speaking of him, the other missive handed to Victoria was his.

Victoria's fiancé was very different from her. He had no interest in science or doing something great in that regard; his main focus had always been to help others as best he could, and since he didn't have the talent for medicine, he had decided to become a teacher. So, Eric worked as a primary school teacher a few streets away from where the Frankenstein family had always lived.

He never had the ambition to leave Geneva or do anything different with his life than what was expected of him because he was content with having a roof over his head and a family to return to at the end of his day.

All of that was fine for Victoria, who wasn't one to judge others' preferences, but she didn't think she, in particular, would get used to that lifestyle.

Moreover, Eric was a hopeless romantic. More than once, he had expressed his desire to get married and start his own family—something that couldn't be further from what Victoria wanted. Although, and this was a point in his favor, unlike her father, he wasn't the one reminding the scientist of her commitment every time they exchanged correspondence.

No, actually, Eric never mentioned the wedding, perhaps knowing that it was a taboo subject between them and preferring to use paper to talk about topics that would likely be more interesting for both, like how Victoria was doing in Ingolstadt or what the latest news was in Geneva or at Eric's job.

So, when Victoria read his latest letter today and saw a paragraph dedicated to the engagement, she knew things were looking bad.

"Your father is starting to get impatient," he had written in a certain part. "He told me he plans to write to you to invite you to spend a few weeks here in the spring, and I suspect part of his intention comes from wanting to set a date for the wedding."
And yes, as usual, Eric was right. The letter from Mr. Frankenstein, in fact, concluded with a cordial invitation to spend the first weeks of March at his home.

"It is not my intention to pressure you; you know well that I am not in a hurry. But we must talk about this at some point, either by letter or in person, before involving your father in the conversation," the letter continued. "And I would prefer if you could contact me beforehand, even just to agree on what to tell your family about this. Whether we should continue postponing it or... well, the other option. The point is, I would like to have a clear answer so as not to put my foot in it with our acquaintances and say something we haven't agreed upon."

No, that was a fair request.

Eric's letter continued for a few more paragraphs, but now veering away from the engagement topic, as if, once this obviously embarrassing request had been made by both parties, he wanted to detach himself from that subject and return to discussing things that were more common in their letters. Things that wouldn't require them to feel inhibited.

Victoria appreciated the effort, but she was worried at the same time: Eric wouldn't have written that to her if things weren't heating up at home. And Eric had done a good job so far in avoiding the topic of engagement, not only because of any favor his friend might have asked of him but because he himself didn't seem interested in getting married at the moment. However, the deadline Mr. Frankenstein had given was running out, and Victoria didn't believe that even with Eric's diplomatic skills, it could be further delayed.

No, he was right; they needed to talk as soon as possible and agree on a new strategy.

"Is everything okay?" Henry inquired, turning towards Victoria.

The question was not whispered, nor did it enjoy any discretion, as the scientist realized that the three people sitting at the table with her had stopped talking to concentrate on her.

How long had she been absorbed, reading those letters?

"It's nothing, don't worry. Just the usual," Victoria dismissed, although she would eventually talk to Henry about that deadline, she preferred to do it when they were alone, not in the middle of a gathering among friends in a public place. "Although, to be honest, I think it would be better if I headed home."

"Already?"

It took audacity to be surprised in the same way as Évelyne, as if they hadn't already been out of their comfort zone represented by their apartment for more than three hours. But Victoria wasn't going to hold it against her; not everyone could sustain a routine of avoiding people and be content with it.

"It can't be so urgent to respond to those letters," Henry interjected, who also didn't seem convinced to let her go, now that he had finally managed to get her out of her shell. "Even if you start writing them now, you won't be able to deliver them until tomorrow. And what's one more day or one less, under these circumstances? It will still be a couple of weeks before they reach their destination."

"It's not about the letters; I'm really tired and would like to retire," Victoria knew well that she wouldn't start with those annoying letters now; she still needed time to think about what to put on paper. But they had left her uneasy, and while before she had a slight desire to leave, now she found that she couldn't stay in the tea room for even one more minute, "but you can continue here, there's no need to interrupt the evening for me. I promise I'll join you for a longer time on another occasion."
Victoria knew she would regret such a promise, but making it was probably the only way to get Henry to give up on his attempt to convince her to stay for at least another half hour. And, as she suspected, it worked: her friend didn't protest.

"Maybe I should leave too," Évelyne murmured, watching as her creator stood up, ready to leave.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Victoria said, and she meant it. "It's not that late yet, and I'm sure either of these two will be willing to accompany you back to the apartment once you're done here."

"That's right," Georg confirmed immediately. "It wouldn't be a problem for us. Although if you prefer to retire, maybe we can meet again another day."

He sounded hopeful, undoubtedly having grown fond of Évelyne in the few hours they spent together, and Victoria hoped that the creature would accept the offer to stay. However, in the end, Évelyne chose not to, stating that she would prefer to go home as well.

Had Victoria misread the situation, and Évelyne didn't actually enjoy being with these people?

No, that wasn't possible. The creature had been in good spirits all day, conversing with her friends much more than Victoria herself, and even discarded her veil on a couple of occasions, gaining courage when she saw that no one was paying attention or reacting negatively to her face. Besides, despite consciously choosing to leave with her creator when it was clear she was having fun, Évelyne didn't hesitate to tell Georg and Henry that she would like to meet up again another day.

In the end, it seemed that her social life was taking a turn for the better, and Victoria couldn't quite understand why she would throw it away—or at least take a break from it—and prefer to accompany her through the streets of Ingolstadt.

But well, Évelyne would know. Victoria wasn't in the mood to ask, so the way back would have to be made in uncomfortable silence.