Lanqi remained leaning comfortably back in his seat, watching the brilliant light and shadow on the high dais of Naicalis Palace as it flared, dimmed, and flared once more.
The palace erupted in an instant, and the demon dignitaries finally let their hearts settle back into place.
Cries of victory, revival, and hope filled the air.
A game they had nearly lost had turned around in a miraculous counterattack, stirring their hearts to wild excitement.
The great demons rejoiced that the Demon Realm truly possessed an Epic-tier painter capable of rivaling the Blood Clan's Tenth Progenitor.
Who could have guessed that the demons' final ace in the hole would prove even superior!
"Oh?"
Tenth Progenitor Ulysses's previously calm gaze was drawn briefly to the artwork as well.
Far from feeling disappointed or defeated, his curiosity was piqued.
Following the demons' gazes, he looked toward the Glow Demon with emerald-green eyes and spark-like patterns across his face.
"Lord Ulysses, that demon only had the home advantage," the traveling Blood Clan viscount, Giovanni, scoffed disdainfully.
Both being Epic grade, even if Tenth Progenitor Ulysses's painting were superior, the princess would naturally choose the one made by her own kind.
Furthermore, had the Blood Clan not been delayed for so long on the road and deprived of proper working conditions, Tenth Progenitor Ulysses would undoubtedly have finished first.
At the same tier of quality, it merely showed that Ulysses possessed greater fundamental skill.
Besides, Marquis Ulysses had not even gone all out; to him, the only intended rival had been True Night Lord, making this little more than a game.
"What do you make of that painting?" Fourth Progenitor Duke Eduardo asked in a low voice.
He would not reproach Ulysses, for whether in magic or magical creations, Epic grade was practically the ceiling.
"Not bad. Quite impressive for a mortal," Tenth Progenitor Ulysses replied, tilting his head back toward Fourth Progenitor Duke Eduardo in the row behind him.
"Is that so?"
Fourth Progenitor Eduardo gave a cold snort, resting his chin on his palm and saying nothing more.
Yet his gaze remained unchanged.
The outcome of today would not change in the slightest either.
"Phew..."
Seated on the left side of the Regency Hall among the court members, Lysandra placed a hand over her chest and exhaled a long breath of relief.
Right up until Fall Lord unsealed the painting, she had never dared hope a painter capable of producing an Epic-grade work would suddenly appear from their ranks.
And that demon happened to be her neighbor, McCarthy.
At this moment, she finally understood why Her Highness had chosen painting from the countless possible competitions—
The princess knew better than anyone that regardless of the obstacles, as long as she signaled McCarthy, he would win everything for her.
Time seemed to speed up, yet also drag on slowly. The demon dignitaries' marveling sounded like long-awaited rain after a drought, surging with boundless passion and release, venting all the tension pent up moments before.
Lysandra, however, had no mind to admire Mr. McCarthy's masterpiece, for the girl glowing in the sunset within the painting was the truest, most beautiful princess she saw in everyday life.
The instant the demons gasped in awe, she had already spotted McCarthy sitting on the tiered benches, looking at the princess with approving eyes.
It was as though he were asking her: *Did I do well?*
Lysandra could see no arrogance in him; the more the demon dignitaries cheered, the calmer he appeared.
The princess, too, was calmer than expected.
If she had to put it into words...
Her Highness's expression right now was almost identical to that of the girl in the painting.
It was the look a girl gave only when watching the man she cared for.
Only, without a mirror, she could not see the look in her own eyes.
After locking eyes with Lanqi for a long while, Hyperion suddenly seemed shaken back to reality by the clamor of the Throne Room, tearing her gaze away like someone waking from a dream.
When she stared blankly at the painting again and caught another glimpse of Lanqi's gaze, her heart raced so fast she could hardly control it.
In a panic, Hyperion lowered her head, struggling to steady her breathing, but she felt entirely breathless, as if she had forgotten how to exhale.
"Your Highness, which painting do you wish to choose?"
Seeing the princess's blushing cheeks, Fall Lord Caliera could not help a faint, knowing smile.
When every demon had panicked earlier, Hyperion had remained composed, maintaining the flawless dignity of a princess.
Now, while all the demons were celebrating, the princess had turned timid, no longer looking like a demon princess at all.
Though Caliera already knew what she would choose, going through the procedure was still necessary.
More importantly, she was quite keen to hear the princess muster her courage—and publicly declare her answer.
"This one."
Hyperion's voice was barely a whisper. She raised her slender arm and pointed toward the painting.
"I can't hear you," Fall Lord Caliera said, cupping a hand to her ear and tilting her head slightly, as if the hall was too noisy for her to catch the princess's words.
The moment Caliera raised her hand, the wave of voices from the seats began to subside.
Recognizing that it was time for Fall Lord to resume presiding over the ceremony, the demons turned their attention back to the dais at the end of the Throne Room and politely returned to their seats, regaining the composure expected of high nobility.
"Now, Your Highness, please tell me seriously: which painting's creator do you wish to make your husband?" Fall Lord Caliera asked with solemn gravity.
The hushed silence made Hyperion all the more conscious of what kind of occasion this was. Instinctively, she tensed her legs, tempted to stand up, turn invisible, and flee.
Yet Fall Lord was right beside her.
Before this Tier-9 great demon, there was not the slightest hope of escape.
Overwhelmed by embarrassment, she felt lightheaded and dizzy.
Hyperion knew Lanqi was watching her, waiting for her answer.
Even if she knew this might merely be a performance, who could say how much of it was real and how much was pretense?
From the day they met, they had always been there for each other—classmates, partners, and best friends sharing the purest friendship, her most cherished treasure.
She feared that once she gave her answer, everything would change.
Having brought nothing but misfortune to those around her since childhood, she knew better than to be greedy, never daring to cross the line or demand anything more from him.
Yet now, feeling somewhat certain of Lanqi's feelings, an impulsive urge seized her to simply accept him.
She kept telling herself it was just a small thing, yet the words stuck in her throat and refused to come out. She felt on the verge of bursting from sheer embarrassment; never in her life had she spoken words that amounted to confessing affection.
*The next second. Say it the next second.*
Hyperion clenched her fists, forcing herself to hurry.
Seconds ticked past, and Fall Lord's gaze grew almost too heavy to bear.
The waiting demons grew increasingly restless as well, the faint rustling and clattering becoming more frequent.
"Your Highness..." Fall Lord's voice came with a hint of disappointment.
Her patience seemed to have run out.
"If you do not tell me your answer, Princess, I will simply choose at random for you."
"This one!!"
Hyperion jerked her head up. Her resolute eyes could barely conceal the mortifying shyness that threatened to bring her to tears.
"I'll marry him!"
Hyperion pointed at [Portrait: Her Golden Hour], shouting at the top of her lungs with every ounce of breath from her core.
In that instant, demons across the entire Regency Hall leapt to their feet in exultation, hunching forward, pumping their fists, and roaring in triumph.
Chapter 580