What can I say?

It's been a while, my butterflies. And by now, I'm sure that you know our entire alphabet like the backs of your hands. You know just how Angelic and Divine and Sacred they can be, and you know just how dirty and conniving and devious and selfish and dark they've always been. But they're allowed to be. Everyone's allowed to be.

And now that I've moved on to another generation, I must say. Nothing still can compare to the scandals F and Y pulled; the tantrums M threw; the drama S and the Maestro conducted; the tension F and deary K caused; and of course, the hilarity K-kun causes for himself.

No generation before them has ever pulled me in, and after them, no generation can ever interest me as much again.

So I'm sad to say (or am I?) that when I'm bored—I'm bored. If I force myself to write about mundane socialite children being all good and holier-than-thou (which is precisely what these nouveau rich are doing), I won't be able to stand it. Sometimes, I get so bored that I find myself wishing some of our ex-Trinity members were straight so that I could at least look forward to their children's generation.

Ah. Well.

It's a generation gap, I suppose. We can't stay young forever. Not even me.

I know. Gaspeth. But it's true. And since I'm not one to shirk from anything—whether life, age, or alcohol—I also suppose that I should get on with business and choose something (someone) that will determine how the future to come regarding socialites will be conducted. After all, I can't just leave the world without so much as a Goodbye and a Don't die.

That's right, my butterflies. You heard me. This time around, the prize for winning is to be my heir.

And you'll have to stick around 'till the end to see me Unveil who it is.

We've got some tough competitors, and just because everyone's an adult now legally, doesn't mean they have to act like it. Because, c'mon, if you've been handed everything in life—from diapers to diamonds—do you really expect to know what the definition of 'fair' is?

But I digress. It wouldn't be nice of me to badmouth our Circus. Especially considering what they're about to go through.

You see, darlings, you've only seen our dearest butterflies when they were still under the age of consent—or around it—and thus, they were all still beneath their parents shelters and wings. Blackmail couldn't touch them—it could only touch their parents.

The thing is, once you're parents are no longer responsible for you, you become a full-blown socialite and every little naughty thing you did in your past will come and bite you in your perky, little ass. For serious. It will. And the only thing you can ever do to stop it begins with the letter 'B' and rhymes with the word 'Tribe'. Let me hear you say it.

Yet, sometimes even then it isn't enough. Because there are people out there who will do anything to get what they want. And they aren't always socialites. Some of them despise socialites with every fiber of their being. Though honestly, who wouldn't? From an outsider's eyes, socialites are the people who have everything, and yet, make nothing of it.

Oh. And remember the 'Fuuka Thing'?

Yeah. That's coming back to haunt them.

Better get ready to rumble, yeah?

--Someday, you'll know what the W in bWitch really means