Hyperion gazed at the familiar royal capital of Ikerite, recalling why she was here.
It turned out that after school had let out, Vivian had wanted to return to the royal palace first to change into casual clothes before going on a stroll with her.
After waiting on the bench for a short while, Hyperion had accidentally drifted off to sleep.
As she pondered this, she looked up to see a figure briskly walking over from the palace—none other than her best friend and the princess of the Hutton Kingdom, Vivian.
"Sorry to keep you waiting."
Holding a small gift box in hand, Vivian hurried over to Hyperion's side and spoke.
"It's fine. I just took a short nap myself, so I didn't even notice the time passing," Hyperion replied with a smile, shaking her head.
The two strolled along the newly renovated road beside the canal, chatting and laughing.
"Ugh, I can't stand my brother anymore. Do you know what happened? Today, Sophia asked him if he wanted to go see Artisan Jera's painting exhibition. Guess how he answered?"
Vivian sighed repeatedly, completely disregarding the decorum expected of a princess of the Hutton Kingdom. It seemed she had heard something utterly exasperating as soon as she returned to the palace and couldn't resist venting to Hyperion right away.
"How did he answer?" Hyperion tilted her head curiously.
"He actually said, 'Ah, that reminds me! I need to hurry and ask Lord Mikhail if he's free—I've been wanting to go with him for ages!' Then he thanked Sophia and eagerly dashed off to find Duke Mikhail. Sophia's face turned practically green on the spot!"
"I know I shouldn't laugh, but..."
Hyperion covered her mouth as she listened to Vivian's story, struggling against a wave of guilt to stifle her laughter.
With these friends she had grown up with in the royal capital by her side, she never felt lonely.
Yet for some reason, she couldn't shake the feeling that all of this had already happened before—that she was merely reliving it right now. It was... an intense sense of déjà vu.
Even so, Hyperion felt wonderfully content.
A few scattered clouds drifted across the afternoon sky, and a flock of birds skimmed past in the distance.
A gentle breeze swept up from the river, caressing their cheeks.
Suddenly, Hyperion caught a glimpse of her reflection on the water's surface. Her pupils shrank violently, and she reached up in panic to cover the horns on her head.
How could she make such an elementary mistake!
To go outside and completely forget to use disguise magic to take on a human form!
And yet.
When Hyperion looked up, she saw Vivian merely staring at her in bewilderment.
"Hyperion, what's wrong?" Vivian took a step closer and asked.
"Haven't you... noticed I look like a half-demon right now?"
Hyperion took a step back, leaning against the carved stone railing along the moat.
"I noticed, yes. What of it?"
Vivian looked even more puzzled.
Hyperion stared blankly at the water's surface, thinking it through.
Here in the Hutton Kingdom, people harbored no hostility toward the demon race. Even in her true appearance, no one would find the horns on her head strange in the slightest.
What in the world was she afraid of?
"I was just thinking... maybe everyone only ignores my half-demon heritage out of respect for my father, Duke Mikhail. But..." Hyperion murmured, looking as though this question had troubled her for a long time.
Hearing this, Vivian burst into laughter.
"It doesn't matter at all! Having traits different from ordinary people is hardly anything new in Ikerite. Why worry about a few demon features? The world is full of all kinds of people, each with their own ways of thinking, yet we can still live together in harmony, can't we?"
As her words fell, the distant sounds drifting over—the lively bustle, laughter, and the melodies of musicians playing their instruments—felt exceptionally serene.
Hyperion gazed at Vivian in a daze. After a long moment, she lowered her head, a faint smile curving at the corners of her lips. The answer filled her with immense happiness, and she didn't want anyone to see the silly grin that was likely spreading across her face.
The two continued walking along the path. In Ikerite, majestic architectural complexes and vast stretches of splendid natural scenery blended together in flawless harmony.
When they reached a bridge, Vivian paused and handed the gift box in her hands to Hyperion.
She looked at Hyperion with a warm smile.
"Happy birthday, Hyperion."
...
Meanwhile, in reality at this very moment.
Herrom Prison, Basement Level 4.
Several figures who had just arrived stood frozen in place like stone statues.
One had even collapsed to the ground.
Before long.
From the distance, the click of high heels tapping against floor tiles gradually drew nearer. Her pace seemed unhurried and leisurely.
Into the entrance hall finally stepped the figure of a woman clad in a warden's uniform, the nameplate on her chest engraved with the name "Selena."
She was completely unaffected by the barrier on this level, remaining fully clearheaded.
Yet as she approached, she showed no intention of helping these five individuals. A mocking smile played at the corners of her lips, as if she had discovered a few novel little mice.
Standing before Hyperion, who stood motionless at the head of the group, she observed Hyperion's expression and the magical fluctuations in Basement Level 4's barrier triggered by her presence.
Seeing Hyperion so utterly captivated by this dream, Warden Selena shook her head and chuckled softly.
"Seems like a delightful little sweetheart... If someone were to rip open her scars, she'd bleed an awful lot, wouldn't she?"
...
Hyperion strolled leisurely along the flagstone path by the river. The ancient buildings and bluestone walls along the road cast deep, muted shadows of silver and black.
After bidding farewell to Princess Vivian, she set off on the walk home alone.
The route from the Ikerite royal palace to the Aransal Ducal Mansion happened to pass right by Ikerite Academy.
Even at such an unhurried pace, seeing the academy meant home was not far away.
As she walked, a faint, sweet aroma of fruit and pastries wafted over.
"Pastries so heavenly your cheeks will melt with bliss are right here! Meow-meow!"
The repeated broadcast from a magic apparatus echoed across the street, accompanied by the ceaseless chiming of wind chimes hanging beneath the eaves of a roadside shop.
Hyperion glanced over, and a quaint wooden building came into view.
She paused, hesitating over whether to buy something.
"Hmm."
Hyperion patted her stomach, realizing she wasn't actually craving sweets that much.
Neither she nor her father had much of a sweet tooth.
Reflecting on this, Hyperion figured it was probably because of that dream just now; since she hadn't gotten to eat any sweets in the dream, she had subconsciously wanted to buy some.
Shaking her head, Hyperion bypassed the shop and resolutely continued forward.
Just a few steps past the shop, a voice called out to her from behind.
"Hyperion."
It was a woman's voice she didn't seem to recognize.
Perhaps Hyperion's silver hair tied with a red ribbon was unmistakably recognizable, or perhaps the person knew her so well that they had recognized her at a single glance.
Hyperion turned around to find two figures standing before the entrance of the wooden shop.
One was a silver-haired woman, identical to the portrait of Hyperion's mother that sat in the picture frame on her nightstand.
Beside her stood a gentle man whose warm gaze dissolved any sense of distance, strikingly and extraordinarily handsome.
This moment felt like eternity.
Hyperion's eyes stung, and she had no idea why she felt like crying.
Chapter 402