Lanqi and Hyperion's Opera Rehearsal

Mid-January. The Ikerite Opera House. Situated near the northern edge of the city along the banks of the Yala Moat and the southern end of the River Port Bridge, the Ikerite Opera House served as the versatile performing arts center of the Hutton Kingdom's royal capital, standing as one of the Southern Continent's most famous and iconic architectural landmarks. Designed a century ago by artisan Jera, its sweeping ribbon-roof structures evoked a starry night, shaped like the sails of a ship resting upon an enormous plinth of blue granite, as though poised to set sail across the cosmos. On this weekday afternoon, The Brillda Troupe was holding a rehearsal within its halls. "My dear half-demon lady, why are you sitting in my room?" Onstage, the male lead—costumed as the demon governor—inquired of the female lead seated on the opposite side. The set was arranged as the chamber of a noble mansion. A chandelier suspended from the ceiling illuminated the entire bedchamber, where deep-crimson velvet sofas and chairs rested beside a hearth. Firewood crackled within the flames; even without seeing the curtain of snow outside the window, the audience could feel the long-lost warmth of a winter sanctuary. "Because I am your fiancée." The noble half-demon maiden sat in an antique sheepskin armchair. The drapes behind her were drawn, allowing only a faint sliver of daylight to filter through the dense, dark-red sheer curtains. She looked like someone collecting a debt, yet possessed of cultured reason as she spoke in gentle tones to the demon governor. "What will it take for you to stop pestering me?" Helpless, the demon governor raised a hand to his brow. Earlier, he had knocked on the doorframe to summon the butler to escort her out, but even the butler had found it awkward to turn the young lady away. Left with no choice, he had to steel himself and negotiate with her directly. "..." The half-demon maiden gazed at the governor's expression, a faint flicker of grief and self-reproach flashing through her eyes. Yet asking her to give up now was not something a simple nod could settle. They had once been so close, yet now he had forgotten her as if robbed of his memories. At last, in a gesture of compromise, she rose to her feet and looked at him. "I want you to solve the riddle—who cursed you to continually forget me?" Standing beside a steel floor lamp, she said, "When that time comes, even if you still cannot remember me, I will persuade my family to trouble you no further over this engagement." Painted upon the lampshade were sprites symbolizing good fortune, chasing one another as though moving alongside the interplay of light and shadow cast across the two actors. The performance on stage continued. In the auditorium, the private audience was sparse. Antanas and Sinora reached into a popcorn tub while watching the rehearsal, whispering to each other. "They're acting so well." "It doesn't feel like a farce at all." Both Antanas and Sinora had accompanied Hyperion here. "Are you implying someone else's acting was terrible and looked like a farce...?" the Ice Witch muttered from beside them. She was also on break today and had come along to watch the rehearsal—or rather, watching it in advance would let her be more composed during her date, sparing her from being startled by the plot on opening day... Pranay wiped his glasses. After returning to Ikerite, he had gotten himself a pair of spectacles and carried an eyeglass cloth with him everywhere. As the troupe's historical consultant, Pranay was also present today. However, he sat with complete composure. One glance at Pranay was enough for Antanas to know this play was safe and they could speak freely. Aside from the four great demons who had caught the public premiere during their stop in Nistro of the Cretin Empire, another great demon was present today. Their good friend Toliado was currently working as a musical laborer behind the curtain. As an employee of the troupe, he had finally returned after a long absence to Ikerite—a city he had once longed to visit yet dared not enter. Abigail had not yet forgiven the Cardinal of Dimensions for that twenty-thousand-pound matter, and this time she strictly forbade him from wandering off and dropping the ball during rehearsals. Thus, he was forced to obediently conduct the string orchestra and play piano accompaniment as required. "Toliado certainly knows how to score music. He can even improvise according to specific cues," Antanas remarked, listening to the background music of each scene. In truth, during their days in the Demon Realm, Yabo's musical style had leaned toward being wildly uninhibited, abstract, and comical. Yet when made to compose for the opera he had penned, he could perform profoundly soulful pieces. "Seeing him this quiet makes him feel like a stranger," Sinora said, tilting her head and shielding her mouth. "When the creditor has real muscle, the debtor is just an obedient brat. Look at Lanqi—the moment Tata mentions debt, all his arrogance vanishes," Antanas revealed the truth. "Unreliable as Yabo usually is, he genuinely possesses a talent for opera," Pranay offered a fair assessment of his old Demon Realm friend. Having worked with the troupe lately, Pranay knew well that Director Abigail was determined to leash Toliado to the theater at all costs, preventing a repeat of last time when he went missing right before curtain call. "The Dimension Branch has always been an acting troupe. That's how intelligence work goes," the Ice Witch agreed. The Dimension Branch was inherently a theatrical company, constantly infiltrating everywhere and disguising themselves as employees of any organization. Back in the Demon Realm era, General Yabo's subordinates had infiltrated human nations on missions in precisely that manner. "Have all of you read the original novel of *Holy War Romance*? Would it be better if I caught up on the book first?" Antanas asked the three great demons beside her. Five great demons had gathered today to watch this closed rehearsal. The princess sisters had run off to the Golden Bee Amusement Park again; on Iphatia's suggestion, she wanted to preserve an element of surprise for the long-awaited premiere, so she hadn't come to the rehearsal. Antanas hadn't read the novel, but Sinora, Pranay, and Almis presumably had. "Whether you've read it or not doesn't really matter. Abigail's staging inevitably includes adaptations. That's why the Grey Princess chapter was so well received last time—the audience anticipated differences from the original from the start. Of course, it was also lucky Lanqi covered for everything and didn't let the deviations become noticeable." The Ice Witch explained, briefly outlining for Antanas the connection between the Half-Demon chapter and the Grey Princess chapter. The story was set during the Holy War era of the Protos Empire. First came the historical background. The Half-Demon chapter took place several years after the timeline of the Grey Princess chapter. The Holy War had already erupted, but historical figures of the Protos Empire like Emperor Franklin and the Imperial Great Sage Isis had yet to rise, and the Northern Continent's modern landscape was far from taking shape. Prior to the outbreak of the Holy War, the Protos Empire and the Demon Realm maintained diplomatic relations. Because the Demon Realm was highly developed while Protos lagged behind, demons enjoyed exalted status in the empire back then—exemplified by the male lead in the Grey Princess chapter, the demon governor dispatched to the Protos Empire. With the advent of the Holy War, the human nations of the Northern Continent became mortal enemies with the Demon Realm. The governor could no longer remain in the human realm. Fully aware that bringing the Grey Maiden back to the Demon Realm would mean certain death for her, and knowing that neither his family nor the Demon King would permit him to wed a human woman at such a juncture, he chose to accept his family's deal and return to the Demon Realm to protect her. Leaving behind treasure sufficient to revive her household, he promised the Grey Maiden that if the war ever ended, he would return. "This part of the story rigorously references the historical context. Because ancient Protos learned much knowledge from the Demon Realm and was later ruled and built up by the demons following its defeat years down the line, its lands retained many demonic legacies. From the subsequent construction of the imperial capital Herrom, one can see an indelible demonic influence," Pranay elaborated for Antanas. Although the demons present were all figures who might have appeared in Northern Continent history, Antanas had remained in the Demon Realm back then and had never studied human culture in depth, so she hadn't looked closely into the allegories and foreshadowing in the Grey Princess chapter. Looking back from the present, the Protos people could neither forgive the demons nor sever demonic traces from their culture—an eternal entanglement. When *Holy War Romance* began, flames of war had not yet consumed the land, and demons and Protos lived in amicable accord. Yet if humans and demons of that era happened to fall in love, what awaited them was inevitably a rugged path strewn with blizzards and thorns. Although the Grey Princess chapter maintained a cheerful tone, the historical backdrop planted at the start had already doomed them to tragedy. What followed was the tale of the male lead, the demon governor, returning to the Demon Realm. Because the governor already had a high-status half-demon fiancée, his distinguished noble house hoped he would swiftly fulfill the engagement. Doing so would clear him of sensitive suspicions of harboring human sympathies while securing the protection of the bride's house. And so arrived the opening scene just performed by Lanqi and Hyperion in the Half-Demon chapter— "The half-demon maiden believes the governor has forgotten her," the Ice Witch said, pointing toward Hyperion on stage. "While the governor insists he has no recollection of her, possessing no memory of their past together in the Demon Realm." Her finger shifted to Lanqi, who was running lines opposite Hyperion. "So in the original novel, the half-demon maiden proposes that the governor solve the riddle. She suspects he was cursed by another demon to keep forgetting her in order to sabotage the union between their houses. As long as he can uncover the culprit, regardless of whether he remembers her or still wishes to marry her, she will agree to bother him no longer." The Ice Witch explained to Antanas. The two demons thus embarked on an unforgettable, romantic journey. Along the way, they adventured across the Demon Realm, investigating clues and weathering perilous life-or-death trials until they finally unmasked and defeated the mastermind behind the curtain. In the end, the governor still failed to regain his memories of the half-demon maiden, yet throughout their journey, he had fallen in love with her all over again. Even if his mind retained no past memories of her, his heart could not erase the feeling of loving her. "So this opening isn't very different from the original?" Antanas asked the Ice Witch in a whisper. "Indeed. Abigail's adaptation simply cut out much of the historical exposition, cutting straight to the scene where the governor and the half-demon maiden meet inside the mansion on a snowy winter day as the opening," the Ice Witch nodded. On stage, the demon governor had just finished speaking with his butler, preparing to set off on their journey with the half-demon maiden. The set was about to transition to a new scene. "Hold on." A voice from the front row of the auditorium cut through the ongoing rehearsal. Abigail made a timeout gesture, signaling the actors on stage to halt. Today, she wore an off-the-shoulder black evening gown, its finely tailored fabric clinging to her voluptuous curves, complemented by her ever-present black gemstone necklace. Whenever she worked in the theater, Abigail always dressed immaculately and maintained an impeccable posture. The actors mid-dialogue stopped at once. Both Lanqi and Hyperion looked at Director Abigail in confusion. There hadn't been any mistakes in their performance; they had poured their heart and soul into delivering their best. Abigail shook her head, as if telling them not to worry. "It's not that you're acting poorly. It's just not achieving the effect I envisioned," Abigail explained to the two leads without a hint of reprimand. "How should we improve?" Hyperion asked humbly. She felt the issue was likely hers rather than Lanqi's... Abigail remained silent for a moment, pondering the cause. Watching Lanqi and Hyperion perform, Abigail couldn't help comparing it to Lanqi and Tata's performance. Clearly, Lanqi and Tata's act had been a cascade of accidents, yet it had been intoxicatingly compelling. Thinking it over, Abigail wondered if her notoriously exacting standards had somehow deteriorated—how could she genuinely love Lanqi and Tata's utterly unhinged performance? But if she asked Lanqi and Tata to do it again, they probably couldn't replicate the magic of the Grey Princess chapter anyway. Tata undeniably possessed acting talent, but the reason Abigail chose Hyperion over Tata was that Tata had a low floor and a high ceiling; her success was irreproducible. Hyperion, on the other hand, had both a high ceiling and steady consistency. Besides, Abigail never wanted another stage accident in her life. "I understand now. It's not your fault—it's the script and my arrangement," Abigail finally declared after deep contemplation, pinpointing the problem for them. Transitioning from the Grey Princess chapter to the Half-Demon chapter, although the latter retained the comedic tone of finding joy in hardship during that era, the half-demon maiden possessed a melancholic, sentimental disposition and didn't need to be a clownish comedian like the Grey Princess. Just like the same melody arranged differently, audiences would perceive an entirely different emotion. "Oh?" Hyperion had braced herself for a scathing critique from Abigail, not expecting her to diagnose a completely different issue after reviewing it. "Yes. This comedy-leaning adaptation isn't what suits you best," Abigail stated decisively. The current staging failed to bring out Hyperion's emotional gift—that blend of melancholy and delight. Wait. The Grey Princess hadn't originally been a comedic character either. After racking her brains, Abigail realized it was simply that Tata's infectious charisma was too overpowering. "Then what should we do next...?" Lanqi asked tentatively. He wasn't sure whether they should continue running through the rest of the play. "Take a half-hour break. Give me some time to prepare, and I'll tell you how we'll rehearse." With that, Abigail dismissed the cast on stage to rest while she carried her script toward the backstage. A half-hour wait might feel somewhat long to the handful of media and industry insiders seated in the audience, but to the great demons, it was fleeting. The greatest virtue of demons was patience. Just as Antanas leaned over to fetch a bag of potato chips from an adjacent seat, opening it to share among the great demons, Abigail returned to the auditorium. "Alright, everyone should be well rested by now." Abigail stepped onto the stage and explained the new script to Lanqi, Hyperion, and the rest of the cast. Surprisingly, she had no intention of wasting time—she wanted them to begin immediately. "Wait, Miss Abigail, where is the full script?" As if an unpleasant memory had been triggered, Lanqi stared at the sparse cue sheets in his hands and pressed her. Abigail had only provided him and Hyperion with lines for Act One. Moreover, this wasn't even a full script—it was purely their own lines. They only knew what they were supposed to say, completely blind to the plot progression and their counterpart's lines. She had only allowed them a few moments to look it over before expecting them to start. Even though Lanqi and Hyperion were most familiar with Act One and the changes to this act appeared minor, they were still bewildered about how to perform it. "Actually, this theatrical style was used in ancient plays," Abigail explained to them. Knowing only one's own lines without seeing the other actors' lines was primarily used in early opera for confidentiality. A script was a troupe's most prized property; to prevent leaks, playwrights often handed actors only their individual parts rather than the complete text. That kept rivals from plagiarizing the work. Naturally, it was also a method of rehearsal. Rehearsal times in ancient eras were brief; actors gathered around the director—who was usually also the playwright—rehearsing according to verbal instruction rather than relying entirely on a full text. Actors were versed in fixed conventions, which, paired with their own lines, allowed them to prepare a performance in short order. Furthermore, this format fostered improvisation. Portions of the script might only provide an outline, requiring actors to ad-lib and flesh out details. Handing over a full script would only stifle their creative room. "And the final reason was illiterate actors. Some performers back then were uneducated and could barely read; giving them a full script wouldn't have helped anyway," Abigail expounded on the history of theater from the ancient Xeros era. In short, considering the historical precedent, a director withholding the full script from actors had ample basis; she wasn't deliberately giving them a hard time. "But Abigail, in the Act One script you gave us, you didn't even write an outline for some parts—just half-finished sentences! How are we supposed to exchange dialogue?" Hyperion asked, pointing at the fill-in-the-blank text on her pages. Equally nervous, she gave Lanqi's palm a gentle squeeze, signaling him not to panic. "Starting from Act Two, a prompter will feed you real-time lines—half-sentences as well, of course. That's where your improvisation comes in. If you fully immerse yourselves in the story and truly embody the hero and heroine, you'll naturally deduce the plot's direction and know what you want to say." What Abigail pursued was a performance that shattered their limits. "In short, on stage from here on, you must treat yourselves as the true demon governor and half-demon maiden. Don't fear the challenge." Tata and Lanqi's performance had inspired this approach. Cramming at the eleventh hour could sometimes ignite an actor's latent potential, especially for gifted ones. This mock-immersion training could be used to hone Lanqi and Hyperion. "Are there major changes to the later plot?" Hyperion asked Abigail, wanting some baseline expectation. Abigail hadn't even provided the scripts for Act Two, Act Three, or beyond. In other words, they were virtually blind to the new story, able to see it only as it flashed onto their prompters. To prevent the leads from forgetting their lines again, Abigail had specifically developed a new magic tool card that projected text directly into the actors' vision, just like Shadow World quest prompts. Thus, they would have to read the story as they performed it, ad-libbing all the while. "The changes in the earlier acts are mostly in subtle details and foreshadowing. The final act, however, is entirely different... So you'll still be familiar with many of the sets from earlier rehearsals. There's no need to worry too much," Abigail said, patting Hyperion's shoulder. "Just remember: I have completely reimagined the story's trajectory. It won't match the original novel you read, so you can forget the original plot of the Half-Demon chapter and immerse yourselves fully in my new vision." "Wait a second! Adaptation isn't reckless fabrication, and artistic license isn't nonsense...!" Behind the curtain at the piano, Toliado stood up. As the original author, he had a few things to say! Yet before he could finish, Abigail's piercing glare shut his mouth, and he slumped obediently back onto his bench. "In short, you can never go wrong listening to the director. That guy on the piano knows nothing about *Holy War Romance*," Abigail declared, certain she had cracked the code. A tone leaning toward lighthearted adventure simply didn't suit Lanqi and Hyperion. Her thinking had been led astray by Tata, causing her to subconsciously aim for the premiere effect of the Grey Princess chapter when adapting the Half-Demon chapter. Following these revisions, however, she was confident this script was tailored specifically for Lanqi and Hyperion, allowing both actors to fully showcase their unique strengths. "Hyperion, do not treat the upcoming performance as a rehearsal—treat it as the official show. If you don't perform well, I'll have no choice but to bring Tata in to replace you." Abigail decided to apply a bit of pressure; otherwise, it would be difficult to unlock their potential. Naturally, she had no real intention of replacing her, nor was the pressure meant for Hyperion herself. "Uh..." Hyperion didn't have much of a competitive streak. However, she saw sweat beading on Lanqi's forehead beside her. He seemed utterly terrified at the prospect of acting in another play with Tata. "Don't worry, I'll do my best," Hyperion promised Abigail, her words also meant for Lanqi. To spare Lanqi from suffering, she would give everything to meet Abigail's standards. "In that case, I'll do my best too." Lanqi flipped through his script. Feeling Hyperion beside him, his racing heart gradually settled. He felt fortunate that this was merely a rehearsal at the Ikerite Opera House rather than being dragged straight onto a public stage. What brought him the greatest comfort was that his co-star was Hyperion. With the ever-reliable Hyperion by his side, he didn't have to worry about her fumbling; on the contrary, she would support him. "I'll give it my all!" Hyperion pumped her fist, brimming with resolve. In the distant auditorium seats, "I can't wait for the curtain to rise," Antanas mumbled through crunches of potato chips. With Tata absent, she seemed to have bought too many snacks today; the few of them couldn't finish it all. "Watching them improvise feels even more intriguing than the actual public premiere." Even from afar, Sinora and the other great demons could use detection magic to eavesdrop on the conversation on stage. Last time, the legendary performer Talia's acting had been pure unscripted freestyle, yet the result had been extraordinary. "The curtain's rising," the Ice Witch softly reminded them. She cared deeply about Hyperion's performance. Seeing how well she acted gave her the maternal pride of watching a daughter grow up; sitting in the audience merely admiring her filled her with warmth. The lighting on stage shifted, and the rehearsal commenced once more. The set remained the same dark-gray, demon-styled noble bedchamber from the beginning. Deep-crimson velvet sofas and chairs sat beside the fireplace, where logs and sparks crackled within the flames. "My dear half-demon lady, why are you sitting in my room?" The demon governor asked coldly, with a hint of displeasure, directed at the graceful figure resting upon the antique sheepskin chair. "Because I am your fiancée." The noble half-demon maiden rested her hands on her lap, answering with poise. It was as though she had visited this chamber countless times, without the slightest awkwardness of a guest. "What will it take for you to stop pestering me?" Holding his brow, the demon governor turned and knocked on the door, intending to summon the butler to escort this demon lady out. "Young Master, you called for me?" After a knock sounded outside, the governor opened the door, and the elderly demon butler stepped respectfully into the room. "Yes. Could you please escort this half-demon lady home?" The governor pointed toward the chair, instructing the butler. ... Following the direction of the governor's finger, the butler looked toward the antique sheepskin chair. He fell silent for a moment, then looked back at the young master, meeting his eyes. "I am powerless to help, Young Master," the butler replied with an apologetic bow, his eyes laced with concern, sorrow, and helplessness. "Forget it." The governor shook his head. The butler's look of pitying concern—as though gazing upon a fool—told him the servant could accomplish nothing and had no sway over this young lady. He could only let the butler leave. The attitude the butler conveyed was clear enough: his family was adamant that he marry his betrothed as soon as possible. "Young Master, don't you feel the room is rather chilly?" The butler felt as though he could see his breath. Despite the roaring hearth, it felt colder than the outside air. "It's winter. That's only natural," the demon governor remarked, leaning against the doorframe, sensing nothing amiss. "Very well, I shall take my leave." The butler bowed and withdrew. Seconds later, only the demon governor and the half-demon maiden remained in the bedchamber. ... The half-demon maiden gazed at the demon governor's expression, a faint glint of sorrow and self-blame passing through her eyes. She did not seem to want to make things so difficult for him. At last, in compromise, she rose and looked at the governor. "I want you to solve the riddle—who cursed you to continually forget me?" Standing beside a bronze floor lamp, she said, "When that time comes, even if you still cannot remember me, I will persuade my family to trouble you no further over this engagement." Painted upon the lampshade were little specters of the demon purgatory, chasing one another as though drifting with the solitary light and shadow cast on the wall. In the audience, Antanas and Sinora leaned comfortably back against their seats, snacking while keeping their eyes fixed on the stage. "Has anything changed?" Never having read the original book, Antanas couldn't discern much difference. "Not really. There only seem to be subtle shifts in detail, and Lanqi and Hyperion's acting hasn't changed either," Sinora said, searching for discrepancies. Thus far, the plot had only undergone slight adjustments—such as the butler having far more dialogue during this opening than before. "Don't worry, Antanas. Even those of us who read the novel have no idea how the later scenes will unfold, so you can just enjoy the show. You'll understand it fine," Sinora told Antanas. "Since Abigail tailored the plot specifically for them, it proves she believes they can pull it off." The two chatted in hushed voices as they watched quietly. A little over ten minutes later, Act One drew to a close. The stage set shifted. Having settled matters with his butler, the demon governor set off on the journey with the half-demon maiden, arriving at the demon academy—the place where she insisted they shared fond memories. The corridors of the demon academy appeared classical and grand, dimly lit and steeped in the scent of aged timber. The set had been crafted with the hazy magical aura of ancient times, where the far end of the passageway seemed perpetually swallowed by darkness, leaving only unfathomable mystery. Along this corridor, music echoing from nowhere drifted through the emptiness, mingled with weeping and singing, winding around the governor and the half-demon maiden like a prelude to pursuit and flight. Even if the demonic academy's atmosphere might seem eerie and unsettling to human viewers, Lanqi and Hyperion remained entirely composed on stage, as though they were genuine demons who found no threat whatsoever in this school. "You claim this place can awaken my memories?" the governor asked the half-demon maiden skeptically. He had agreed to accompany her solely to be rid of her pestering; up to this moment, he still harbored zero faith in her claim that 'someone cursed him, causing him to lose his memories of her.' He firmly believed he had never known her. How could he possibly have been her classmate here, let alone fallen in love with her? The floor of dark marble was traced with golden patterns. The two stood upon a carpet woven with demon flowers, right before a closed door. The surrounding walls were adorned with strange portraits and mirrors, as if gazing upon the students traversing the path. "Yes," the half-demon maiden nodded with proud conviction. "Yet there are no photographs of us here. How do you intend to prove we ever visited this music classroom together?" the governor asked, staring at the large classroom marked for music studies. "Look—the music classroom is full of ghosts." The half-demon maiden merely shook her head, using telekinetic magic to push open the sealed classroom door. When the classroom's projection illuminated the stage, the interior scene flooded into the audience's view. Far from a lecture hall, it resembled a sprawling grand theater. Ornate light fixtures, red velvet seats, and a solemn stage looked remarkably like a reflection of the Ikerite Opera House itself. At that very instant, the air grew stifling, nearly freezing solid. The temperature along the corridor plummeted with sinister chill, and within the enclosed scene echoed bloodcurdling, sorrowful wails. Countless ethereal figures appeared as if stepping out from another dimension. Their silhouettes overlapped, indistinguishable from one another, echoing like a demonic choir whose relentless voices made even the half-demon maiden cover her ears. "You know that I caused this catastrophe single-handedly?" The demon governor gazed into the hellish classroom, unconcerned with the maiden, feeling neither distress nor fear. When the ghosts caught sight of him, they cowered in terror, daring not approach. "Yes. And I was there with you back then, which is why they fear me just as much." The half-demon maiden took a step toward the classroom. The ghosts shrank back the moment they saw her, exhibiting the exact same terror they held toward the governor. The demon governor frowned. He seemed to have caught onto a discrepancy. In his memories, he had caused the music classroom catastrophe entirely on his own, after which the room was permanently sealed. Yet judging from the demonic spirits' reactions, this half-demon maiden appeared to have been an accomplice. "These ghosts don't know they are dead. All they can do is sing endlessly," the half-demon maiden murmured. Yet their reactions were undeniably genuine—the purest manifestations of instinct and obsession. "Very well. I tentatively accept your premise—I may indeed have forgotten you. But I still cannot rule out that this is an elaborate ruse, for I truly have no memories of you. I will continue investigating with you until we find irrefutable proof," the governor said to her. "We will retrace the steps we once walked together. You will see more of the marks we left behind." The half-demon maiden smiled. They retraced their past through the demon academy, and the scene gradually transitioned to the next act... A chilly wind swept across the stage. This was not the biting cold of winter, but rather the crisp, piercing chill of drawing breath atop a mountain peak. The set shifted inside a desolate, crumbling ancient castle. This was the banquet hall on the ground floor of the castle, which simultaneously resembled an ancient sanctuary. In the projection, a magnificent pipe organ nearly several stories tall spanned the entire back wall. Some pipes stood upright while others curved, some gleamed golden while others bore an elegant natural wood, arranged in varying shapes and layers, exuding an indescribable aura of sacred solemnity. Beneath a stained-glass dome, the lights switched on by the governor cascaded like a river of stars from the ceiling, illuminating the sumptuous dark stone-carved walls and floor. Occupying the most prominent position in the hall was an expansive, stately banquet table. Its silver candelabras had long since gone cold. Along both sides of the long table, neatly arranged dining chairs carved from brown oak could hardly conceal the lavish memories of revelry and clinking glasses from years past. "What is there to find here?" Hands thrust into his coat pockets, faint puffs of mist curling from his lips, the governor gazed aimlessly around the hall. He remembered this place, yet could recall nothing of the maiden. By now, he was no longer surprised that she knew he had visited this fortress. She knew so much—so much that it felt as though she had truly known him. "Do you sense the curse within this castle? The moment one steps inside, a discomfort settles over the body," the half-demon maiden asked the governor. This place was plainly far more perilous than the demon academy, yet she showed no fear whatsoever—wholly because the governor was at her side, or perhaps because they had walked this ground before and weathered every danger together, leaving her untroubled by whatever peril might arise. "This is indeed a cursed castle. But why does this curse formula feel so familiar...?" Placing his hand upon the tabletop, the governor sensed it. "Could I truly be under a curse, struck unknowingly by a formula just like this?" he muttered to himself. Perhaps because the curse felt so familiar and its harm was so subtle, he had failed to detect it all this time, discovering only upon sensing another curse that his own body carried something of the exact same nature. "I knew someone with your talent would surely detect the curse on yourself. You just refused to believe it before," the half-demon maiden said, clasping her hands behind her back and leaning forward with a soft grin. "I'm sorry..." The demon governor lowered his weary eyes. His persistent distrust seemed to have hurt someone who had once been truly close to him. "It's fine. If you still can't remember me when the time comes, I won't cling to you. After all, my only wish is for you to be happy every day," the half-demon maiden said cheerfully. "..." The demon governor did not answer. He could not guarantee whether he would remember her, nor whether he could bring himself to fulfill the engagement and marry her if he failed to recall anything. At this moment, all he felt was guilt. "Come now, it's a mutual thing—don't make it sound as though either of us owes the other. Why not think carefully about clues to breaking the curse? Only then will you remember me, won't you?" The half-demon maiden stepped closer, lifting a hand toward his cheek, only to stop just before making contact and draw it back. Their relationship was no longer what it once was; she did not want to cause him awkwardness or distress over propriety. "A curse should eventually fade. No curse can last this long unless sustained by environmental influence or continuously cast," the governor nodded, murmuring. "So?" she asked him. "So it must be a demon close to us who cursed me, aiming to sabotage the alliance between our houses. We can narrow down our search. We should head back to the city first," the demon governor answered resolutely. Having gathered clues among the clifftop castle, they prepared to return. Afterward, they traversed many more places, the sets shifting continuously through curtains, stage machinery, and projections. It was a long journey. It felt like a retrospective of their lives—or perhaps a test. A test of whether, even if he forgot her time and again, he would fall in love with her all over again. Until at last came the final act: the demon governor and the half-demon maiden arrived at a church. In the audience, Antanas and the great demons watched transfixed, their knit brows and focused gazes fully absorbed in Lanqi and Hyperion's stirring performance. For a moment, they could hardly tell whether this was merely a play or the genuine love story of the governor and the half-demon maiden. "Wait, something's not right. They've reached the final act, yet they still haven't found the culprit who cursed him," Sinora realized abruptly from her trance. In the original story, the demon governor and the half-demon maiden should have been fighting the Demon Grand Duke by now—the mastermind behind the curse. Yet in Abigail's rewritten plot, they still couldn't solve the mystery. Not only could they find no caster, but it was almost as though the caster didn't exist at all—as if they had chased an imaginary conspiracy within the Demon Realm. Now, the two figures on stage wandered into this twilight church in an attitude of resignation. This was the very last place where the half-demon maiden and the demon governor shared memories. The entire stage was dim, illuminated only by spotlights centered on the two of them. The flickering, shifting halos of light bathed the stone pillars in the somber atmosphere of a church at dusk. With their arrival, the music commenced with a tender, soulful piano solo. The two actors on stage seemed to have gradually lost themselves in the roles. They no longer seemed like Lanqi and Hyperion rehearsing a play, but had become the governor and the half-demon maiden uncovering their hidden truth. "I don't get it... I really don't get it," Antanas muttered. If there had been more acts to follow, she might have accepted it, but Sinora's revelation that this was already the final act caught her off guard. Only upon checking the time did she realize nearly two hours had passed. She couldn't help glancing at Pranay and the Ice Witch. The Ice Witch remained fixed on the stage, as though deaf to Sinora and Antanas's hushed conversation. Pranay, however, let out a soft sigh. Pranay seemed to have deduced the story's hidden twist. Just as on stage, Lanqi and Hyperion, reading the upcoming lines visible only to them, were likely about to discover the truth as well. "Pra—" Antanas started to ask Pranay, but stopped herself. She knew Pranay wouldn't spoil it for her, and having watched the opera for so long, she ought to see it through with her own eyes. Inside the twilight church on stage, No matter how the seasons shifted, the old church atop the sea of flowers on the cliff remained gentle and pleasant. The dying rays of the sunset filtered through stone pillars as a soft breeze stirred fresh air and drifting flower petals. And at the far end of the sanctuary stood the hero and heroine of the opera. "Why...?" The young demon appeared utterly lost, unable to understand why he couldn't find the answer. "I think... along the way, I've finally come to understand." The noble half-demon maiden still wore that pure white dress, as though heedless of winter's chill, cradling blossoms picked along the path. A gentle smile touched her lips. "What have you understood?" The governor raised his eyes to gaze at the maiden, seeking answers in her gaze. In those amber pupils, he found no resentment, no despair—only peaceful acceptance, tinged with the faint sorrow of an impending farewell. He didn't know why, but seeing that look in her eyes filled him with sudden dread. They were supposed to be companions who had met only days ago; had he already come to believe in her completely, deep in his subconscious? "Think carefully... think deeply. You will surely understand." Her voice grew softer and softer, reminding the governor of the fragments of memory they had uncovered along the way. On stage, the piano melody flowed gentle and melodious, notes streaming like teardrops across the heart, echoing the joys and sorrows of that bygone era. The left hand played sometimes with steady gravity, sometimes as light as falling gossamer, hinting at the fickle nature of destiny. "..." The governor's eyes widened, staring at her in dazed loss. It was as though he couldn't fathom it—or rather, refused to fathom it, having selectively ignored countless clues. Scenes from their journey flashed through his mind, causing cracks to spiderweb across the chains that locked away the truth until they shattered with a deafening snap. The voices heard along the road rang in his ears once more, thunderous and clear: *"—They don't know they are dead."* The half-demon maiden had given him the answer. Those were the words she had spoken outside the music classroom at the demon academy. Ghosts never realize they are dead unless told by another, or brought to realize it through subtle hints. ... Tears glistened in the governor's eyes as he stared at the half-demon maiden in utter shock. The music swelled, rapid and intense, wave upon wave, as though narrating the churning turmoil and unspeakable agony within. At the same time, deep resonant notes thrummed in the lower register, interwoven with dramatic violin chords that evoked an encroaching tempest. The music laid bare with unvarnished sincerity the cruelty of a wartime era, the fragility of life, and the entanglements of love and hate. A thousand thoughts raced through the governor's mind. In his bedchamber, the butler had behaved as though he couldn't see the half-demon maiden at all, merely staring toward the chair without exchanging a single word with her. Wherever she went, a chill lingered in the air. The demon who cursed him had been casting that curse right by his side all along. In truth... The half-demon maiden was a ghost that only he could see. "Was it actually me... subconsciously cursing you all along...?" The half-demon maiden seemed to have recalled her past as well. So she had already died. Perhaps before death, her greatest wish had been for the governor to forget her, so he wouldn't mourn or remain fixated on her. That wish had inadvertently twisted into an obsession, a curse—and having unknowingly become a ghost, she had known nothing of it, foolishly lingering by his side and hoping that one day he might fulfill their engagement. "No, that's not true! Don't let your mind wander! Come back with me first. Tomorrow we'll keep looking for whoever cursed me—it must be some noble faction trying to sabotage our union!" The demon governor spoke with rare panic masked behind forced composure. "..." The maiden blinked in a momentary daze, then smiled and slowly raised her hand, seeking to touch the governor she could never reach. Her smile carried fond affection, mixed with sorrowful pity and helplessness. "My only wish was for you to let me go," she said to him, reluctant to part. "What... are you... talking about...?" The governor's voice was stiff, as if he couldn't comprehend. "Remember everything. I won't curse you anymore. If you remain stranded here, you will never be able to move forward and begin a new life," the maiden whispered softly by his ear. "Stop talking... please! I don't want to remember anything about you!" The governor was like a child refusing to leave his bed, desperate to cling to the dream for just a few seconds more. "Hah..." The maiden smiled with lowered eyes, never imagining that the beloved she had once thought omnipotent would resort to such childish denial. Yet she remained patient. *Tick, tock, tick, tock.* The gears of the church's bell tower turned. The twilight bell was about to toll. Her eyes were as beautiful as the clear sunset sky. The half-demon maiden drew close to the governor. Even if he could not truly hold her now, she wanted to be nearer, as though nestled against him. "I want to tell you what I kept... In my room, I wrote so many letters to you, but I never managed to send them." The maiden began speaking softly to herself. Since the governor refused to speak, she could only deliver the farewell herself. "Sometimes, I would fall in love with your shadow." "Just watching you, following you, was enough." "The love you gave me was always boundless. Do you know that my heart has only ever loved you?" She spoke softly, like a tender wife. The governor's hoarse throat could produce no sound; more than that, he dared not interrupt words that would dwindle with every passing second. It was time to let go, yet he suddenly refused. The desire to erase every memory of her only etched her deeper into his soul. His eyes stung. As if losing control of his body, he lunged forward to embrace the half-demon maiden he had once refused to touch. Yet only at this moment, passing right through her as though they existed in separate dimensions, unable to feel her touch, did he realize he could no longer deceive himself. "Haha." The half-demon maiden broke into a sudden laugh. Seeing the governor clumsily attempting to embrace a phantom, she couldn't help being amused by his dashing earnestness. Naturally, her laughter held a touch of bittersweet comfort. "You are finally willing to hold me," she said, tears brimming at the corners of her eyes. The demon governor stared blankly at her unfamiliar yet familiar face. She might be the face he could never forget, a trace of joy laced with regret. She might be the famine or the beast, the turning of each day into heaven or hell. She might be the mirror of his dreams, a smile reflected in a flowing stream. Her eyes were so candid and true. To see them weep was almost more than one could bear. Whenever he drew near her, his heart trembled. "If you can feel my heart, promise me: let me go in yours, and let me depart in peace, won't you?" The half-demon maiden looked upon the governor, offering her final request. "..." The governor wanted to speak, yet could find no voice. The words were already lost beyond the far shore of return. If only time could turn back; if only all could be restored. "Well, no matter what, it's time for me to go." The half-demon maiden shook her head, having made her resolve. "No! I will never forget you. Unless you curse me again, I will remember everything! I am willing to live through this journey over and over—I will willingly stay by your side!" The demon governor reached out to grasp her, only to clutch empty air once more. "How is that any different from a dream? Don't linger in a dream. It isn't real," she asked, and told him. Just as the sorrow seemed insurmountable, the music gradually softened. The melody grew gentle and soothing, like a ray of sunlight piercing the gloom to illuminate the soul. A parting theme surfaced faintly, intertwining with the main motif, symbolizing hope and salvation descending upon the mortal world. Those fluctuating notes were like a candle's glow in the dark, reflecting the glimmer within. The instant the twilight bell tolled, her figure was washed in brilliant light, its pure white radiance looking as though heaven itself was welcoming her home. "It seems this was too cruel for you after all." When she looked back, only a smile graced her lips. "I don't want to part; I only want to be together." All sorrow had vanished, as if returning to the girl she was when they first met, her expression brimming with vibrant life. "I..." Lanqi started to speak instinctively, only to realize the governor's lines had already ended here. Observing Lanqi's stunned expression, Hyperion let out a soft, youthful giggle. "If God should one day guide us together again, let no one tear us apart..." Yet Hyperion continued to speak. "When that day comes, please take my hand once more, and stay with me for a lifetime." The light bathing her silhouette gradually faded, until she was barely visible, dissolving into the darkness of the twilight church. "..." The governor stood in place, his reddened eyes trembling continuously. He yearned for the warm, gentle sunshine of spring, which, like her quiet presence, washed over him, washing away past sorrows. Only when the sunset burned away completely did he seem to glimpse Her hazy silhouette amidst a forest of falling petals.