The main performance hall of the Ikerite Opera House.
The auditorium was nearly filled to capacity, and almost every theatergoer in the vast hall was chatting animatedly with the friends beside them.
"Hypie's styling and makeup will be exceptionally stunning today!"
"I think so too, but it really comes down to her wonderful aura."
Antanas and Sinnola had accompanied Hyperion there.
Recalling the rehearsals, their hearts fluttered in eager anticipation of Hypie's grand entrance in full regalia.
Pranay glanced at the stage curtain, then took off his spectacles and began polishing them with a lens cloth, resolutely staying out of the conversation.
In addition to today's Saturday matinee, there would be another show tomorrow on Sunday. For audience members like them who had already watched the internal rehearsals, however, this already felt like their second viewing.
"Antanas, Sinnola, don't you two give any spoilers!"
Seated in the row ahead, Iphatia turned around and warned her two friends.
She and Talia had resisted coming to the Ikerite Opera House to watch the troupe rehearse precisely so that they could experience the genuine surprise on the day of the premiere.
"Alright, don't worry, Ipha."
Antanas and Sinnola nodded repeatedly.
In truth, they were deeply worried that Iphatia would be reduced to a puddle of tears shortly.
There might be a few heartwarming interludes midway through today's opera that would make Ipha smile, but once it reached the climax, she would likely realize the truth—that the young half-demon lady was already a ghost. There was no way she would be able to laugh her head off from beginning to end like she had during the Cinderella Arc.
Just imagining how Ipha would look in a little while made their hearts ache. Ipha had always been the baby sister of their group, and they had always pampered and protected her; none of them could bear to see little Ipha cry.
"By the way, come over to the ducal estate for dinner tonight! It's been so long since you've stayed over, and Hypie really wants to have a pajama party with you guys," Iphatia said, clinging to the back of her seat as she looked back at Antanas and Sinnola.
She was already planning a celebration banquet to toast the show's tremendous success.
Back when Talia had been away from Ikerite, Sinnola and Antanas had taken turns guarding Hyperion. Now that the danger had passed, however, they no longer hung around Hyperion twenty-four hours a day, leaving her feeling slightly lonely.
"Sounds good, but the two of us have work early tomorrow morning, so we'll have to head back to the Boss Cat Restaurant early," Sinnola and Antanas replied after exchanging a glance.
They did, however, politely decline staying the night at the ducal estate.
"Then we'll see you at dinner! Thanks for working so hard!" Iphatia said with a beam.
"Okay."
Seeing that Iphatia hadn't insisted with overwhelming hospitality on making them sleep over, Antanas and Sinnola both breathed a sigh of relief.
"Say, shouldn't we spend more time with Hypie? It really has been a long time since we stayed over. Will she think we're ostracizing her?" Antanas whispered softly to Sinnola.
"No... If I spend another night at Hyperion's place, I feel like I'll never be able to get married..." Sinnola covered her face, muttering half-tearfully.
"Understood, totally understood."
Antanas nodded repeatedly and dropped the idea entirely. She had been a victim herself, after all.
"Wait, Almis isn't here?"
Sinnola remembered that during the rehearsal, the Frost Witch had been glued to their side, yet today, for the official performance, she was nowhere to be seen.
"I think Almis specially requested VIP box tickets for today," Antanas said, turning to look toward the elevated private boxes in the distance.
Her view opened up dramatically across the magnificent opera hall—three tiers of gilded boxes rose along the perimeter walls. Thousands of dark velvet seats trimmed with gold braid were neatly arranged, completely filled with enthusiastic patrons.
She didn't know which specific box the Frost Witch was in today.
The box seats weren't necessarily more expensive than their front- and second-row VIP tickets, but Almis had chosen them anyway. Perhaps she had someone special she wanted to watch it with.
Aside from the four greater demons who had watched the rehearsal at the Ikerite Opera House last time, Toryardo was also behind the curtains today, directing the music.
Not only had Abigail not forgiven him for the twenty thousand pounds, but she also held a bitter grudge over how unreliably he had vanished during the last performance. Thus, she had locked Toryardo firmly in the theater today, forcing him to work diligently as a humble laborer, forbidden from wandering off anywhere this morning.
Toryardo seemed to have missed out on something again; when they ran into him at noon at the theater, the anguish etched into his face had been extraordinary.
"Abigail, why are you always so fierce toward Toryardo? It's like he owes you a fortune," Antanas couldn't resist asking Abigail in the row ahead.
"He *does* owe me a fortune,"
Abigail turned around, answering as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Toward her other greater demon comrades, she was always exceptionally polite.
"See? You're so warm to all of us, except Toryardo. Even if he paid back every cent, you'd probably still loathe him. Or maybe it's not entirely loathing..." Antanas struggled to articulate it, yet voiced her intuition nonetheless.
Abigail acted like someone who had once been abandoned by Toryardo, radiating a proud, haughty resentment.
Although, to be fair, she really had been abandoned by him in the past—after provoking the Cardinal of Destruction, Toryardo had scurried off to the Northern Continent all by his lonesome...
"In any case, I will never forgive him."
Abigail simply dropped that flat declaration and turned back around.
Even if their Dimension Branch no longer had any future worries, it changed nothing; it certainly didn't mean she would make peace with Toryardo.
Antanas was about to press further—she had long been intensely curious about the history between Abigail and Toryardo—but before she could pry, Pranay raised a hand to stop her.
"To untie the bell, you need the demon who tied it,"
Pranay said, shaking his head at Antanas as he spoke up for his old friend from the Demon Realm.
Back when the Demon Realm still stood, the special forces unit led by General Yabo, who was in charge of intelligence, had to constantly infiltrate every corner of the world, disguising themselves as humans from every imaginable department and agency. General Yabo himself was an unmatched master of espionage and concealment.
Having evaded imprisonment, gifted in forgery and deception, and possessing countless talents for surviving in human society, Toryardo had mingled among mortals for a century. He was perhaps the one among the surviving greater demons who understood humans best, and likely the first to truly grasp the human heart.
It was precisely because Toryardo knew in his conscience where he had wronged her that he had been dodging the issue and playing dumb all along. And Abigail possessed an unyielding, ironclad pride.
Until he genuinely admitted his mistakes, it was impossible for Abigail to forgive him.
While the three greater demons conversed in the back row, the War Gods in the front row had also been staring eagerly at the stage curtain for quite a while.
"I'm so excited, meow!"
Bianca, the Twelfth War God, the Opal, wore a lightweight dress today, her feline ears twitching upright atop her head.
Were it not for the fact that those cat ears moved, the aristocrats who had dropped by earlier to pay their respects to Abigail would have assumed they were merely decorative headwear. Beastkin were genuinely a rare sight in the Hutton Kingdom.
"Bianca, see? I told you there was no need for a disguise. They've never seen you fight, so nobody would ever associate you with the Twelve War Gods," Ryan, the Ninth War God, the Amethyst, remarked from the seat beside her.
Bianca was the most harmless-looking member among the Twelve War Gods; once she stripped off her scout gear, she didn't look particularly formidable at all.
"You really make a lot of sense. As expected of the Marquis!"
Bianca beamed, offering Ryan high praise.
As the head of the Griffin Roland Marquis family, a house steeped in the history of the Creti Empire, Ryan was the only proper nobleman among the three of them, possessing by far the greatest experience in international diplomacy and foreign travels.
Meanwhile, Salon, the Second War God, the Obsidian—the strongest among them—usually focused exclusively on honing his swordsmanship and cared little for affairs abroad. Having accompanied them here, he had barely uttered a word.
"Drop it, will you?"
Ryan knew Bianca was teasing him by deliberately calling him 'Marquis.'
In the Creti Empire today, the delicate balance between commoners and nobles had surfaced as an urgent problem that demanded confronting head-on; they could no longer allow the seeds of disaster to ferment or be swept under the rug like during the era of Great Emperor Saint Bardo.
Once Emperor Loren Clantel returned home, in addition to the post-war international affairs left in his lap, the homeland was plagued by a massive pile of domestic messes. There was no telling when he would ever see the end of it all. When his one-year term concluded, Jasper, the Fourth War God, would probably have to plead with Loren to renew his contract for another year.
"This is the first time I've ever heard of an emperor operating on a contract, meow," Boss Cat chimed in from Bianca's hands.
The emperor spent every waking moment plotting to flee to neighboring countries, while the ministers spent every waking moment scheming to prevent the emperor from resigning. It made the emperor look like a signed athlete at a sports club.
Boss Cat had originally intended to stay with Iphatia, but the moment Bianca spotted him, she reached right across Abigail to scoop him up. Boss Cat figured sitting here or there was all the same, so he simply stayed put in Bianca's lap.
"Loren never chased the crown; the crown has been chasing him the whole time, meow," Bianca whispered, looking down at the little black cat.
Just hearing the little black cat's verbal tic filled her with affection, to the point where she occasionally wondered whether this cat was actually a kit of the felinoid beastkin who had transformed into a kitten.
Then again, she could turn into a cat herself. For a felinoid scout, that was an entry-level skill. If there was a chance to play with the little black cat later, she could shift into a cat and frolic with him.
"Ursula wanted to come as well, but with the international situation still unstable and our duties to guard the emperor, we'll have to wait until next time to bring her and Elsa along to play," Marquis Ryan sighed from the side.
His younger sister, Ursula, had wanted to visit Ikerite even more than he did.
Yet relaxed as they might look right now, their official mission was to protect the emperor, not to take a vacation on the public purse. It was only because Loren had personal arrangements today that they had been granted an extra day of leave.
"How is Elsa doing?"
Abigail looked over in their direction and asked Ryan.
She regarded the little sister of her junior fellow disciple, Landry, as her own sister. Over these past days in Ikerite, the only person she fretted about was Elsa back in Brillda.
"She's doing great. While you and Toryardo are away, the Roland family will take good care of her. She is a cherished daughter of our Roland family, just like Ursula," Ryan assured her firmly.
For now, all Elsa knew was that her brother had to work long-term at an imperial protection agency conducting top-secret military energy research, and would rarely have the opportunity to see his family for the foreseeable future. Having long dedicated his life to the empire, Elsa might not see Landry for years to come.
Although they didn't know whether this lie was truly right, it had been a unanimous decision reached through careful deliberation.
They believed that at Elsa's age, her heart required protection above all else. Even if it meant weaving a beautiful dream for her, she deserved to grow up happy and healthy.
"Then I leave her in your care."
Abigail nodded with relief, a faint trace of sorrow lingering in her eyes.
Perhaps this was what Landry would have wanted as well. That was why he had so often prayed to the Goddess of Fate without fear of retribution, desiring only his little sister's safety.
Between the protection of the Dimension Branch, the friendship of the Roland family backing the Ninth War God, and being regarded as a wolf-witch apprentice by Violet, the Sixth War God and Aquamarine, Elsa's future standing in the Creti Empire would practically be that of a saintess.
"Who knows, Elsa and Ursula might be watching the live broadcast in Brillda right this minute," Bianca mused, recalling that the Brillda Voice of Truth Broadcasting Company had reportedly secured the broadcast rights.
"They're definitely watching,"
Ryan said with a chuckle.
Whenever Ursula brought up the Cinderella Arc, she was lavish with praise; she had spent that entire evening shouting about how magnificent it was. He glanced to his other side at Salon, the Second War God.
Though Salon remained utterly silent, it was plain to see how intently focused he was.
Even during the Blessing Ceremony of the Twelve War Gods on National Day, Salon hadn't appeared this animated; his hands were even trembling slightly from the tempest surging in his heart.
"Meow."
Boss Cat gazed toward the backstage curtains with a hint of worry. He was actually quite anxious about Lanqi's condition today.
This morning, the boy had practically been having hallucinations.
Nobody knew how close Lanlan was to his breaking point; perhaps just one more minor mishap would crush him completely.
Then Boss Cat turned back around.
Seeing that Talia—the single greatest wildcard—had safely returned to her seat in the audience, he felt considerably reassured.
The one most likely to shatter Lanqi's mental state wasn't the hardworking Poet of Great Love, but Tata, who operated purely on raw, catastrophic instinct.
"Relax. This performance will unquestionably succeed,"
Abigail muttered under her breath, glancing down at the little black cat as though reading its mind.
Given her conscience and professional ethics, it had been hard for her to accept the coincidental, runaway success of the Cinderella Arc's premiere. To her, an irreproducible triumph had nothing to do with her skill as a director.
This time, however, she would present the audience with her finest masterwork, showcasing the true caliber of her actors.
*Hum.*
The lighting in the hall shifted in tandem with the introductory overture.
Patrons hushed one another across the auditorium, and the entire hall fell silent in an instant, every gaze snapping toward the curtain. The stage's background music swelled gently, the footlights rose, and the velvet curtain slowly parted.
***
Backstage of the Ikerite Opera House's main stage.
The space was dimly lit, corners cluttered with backup props and decorations, illuminated only by a few faint work lamps. Across the fireproof carpeted floor, stagehands in overalls darted swiftly back and forth.
As the echoes of the house announcements faded, under Toryardo's direction, a technician confirmed the stage readiness via short-range radio before nodding to the cast.
In an instant, the orchestra launched into the prelude, and a lone spotlight struck the edge of the curtain, illuminating the steps.
Even from backstage, the sounds filtering from the boards were crystal clear.
Presently, an introductory prologue established the historical setting, designed to immerse the audience in the atmosphere of the Holy War a century ago and evoke the turbulent grandeur of the Northern Continent.
Dressed in lavish costumes, Lanqi and Hyperion paid no mind to the crew rushing about, quietly awaiting the imminent opening scene.
"Hyperion, let's give it our all out there."
Lanqi walked toward the wings, a flicker of relief touching his eyes as he looked at Hyperion. Although Hyperion had arrived later than he anticipated, she was still on time.
"No problem at all,"
"Hyperion" declared with absolute confidence, stepping forward alongside him.
In a moment, the stage lights would plunge into total darkness, and when they flared back up, Act One would commence. All she had to do was sit in the chair inside the governor's chamber and deliver the opening banter with the governor. A task so simple was impossible for her to mess up.
Once the prologue concluded, the pitch-black void on stage lingered for a long time.
Only a deliberately amplified heartbeat echoed through the auditorium.
The lights shifted, and Act One began.
The setting was a noble estate's dark grey bedroom styled in the traditional demon aesthetic. A deep red velvet sofa and chairs sat beside a hearth where logs and embers crackled merrily. The spotlight converged upon two figures.
"Miss Half-Demon, why on earth are you sitting in my room?"
The demon governor gazed at the delicate silhouette seated upon the antique parchment-leather chair, inquiring with chilly displeasure.
"Because I'm your fiancée, of course."
The noble half-demon lady rested her hands on her lap, lifting her chin with triumphant smugness.
She looked as though she had visited this room countless times, showing not the slightest restraint expected of a guest, treating the place entirely as her own home.
Lanqi's brain stuttered for half a second.
He felt that Hyperion's acting today was somewhat off. It was vastly more bubbly and uninhibited than during rehearsals.
Yet Lanqi swiftly dismissed his misgivings. Perhaps Hypie was simply in high spirits today, shifting her performance dynamic as she got caught up in the thrill of the stage.
"What will it take for you to stop pestering me?"
The demon governor pressed a hand to his forehead, turning to rap against the door panel.
He intended to summon the butler to escort this demonic lady home.
Down in the audience.
"Not bad at all."
"The male lead's acting is as solid as ever."
"The female lead is quite good too. Is she the same actress from the Grey Witch Arc?"
"They definitely recast her; this one has a much more youthful, girlish charm."
That brief half-second pause earlier had perfectly conveyed speechlessness at the young half-demon lady's audacity while striving to maintain aristocratic decorum. Several audience members immediately praised the governor's vivid, lifelike opening performance.
"Young Master, did you call for me?"
Following a knock from beyond the door on stage, the governor turned the handle, and the elderly demon butler outside respectfully stepped into the room.
Lanqi pushed forward with the scene.
"Yes. Would you please escort this young half-demon lady back to her home?" He pointed toward the chair, instructing the butler.
"..."
Following the direction of the governor's finger, the butler looked toward the antique parchment chair. He fell silent for a moment.
Before the butler could turn his gaze back toward the young master, his eyes flew wide, staring unblinkingly at the figure on the leather chair.
Right before his eyes—
The young half-demon lady in the chair had picked up a pastry from the table and begun happily munching on it.
*Holy shit.*
*You're a ghost!*
*How can you be eating food?!*
The actor from the Brillda Troupe playing the butler screamed frantically in his mind.
"..."
Lanqi stared at the butler's exaggerated reaction, utterly baffled as to why the man was bulging his eyes so dramatically. He turned his head in confusion.
Only to freeze dead in his tracks the second he saw Hyperion casually snacking on a pastry.
Lanqi petrified.
Sweat began beading on his forehead as his brain kicked into overdrive.
This vicious sense of déjà vu transported him right back to the stage of the Brillda Opera House months ago, where he had been similarly struck helpless and cornered. Was this some kind of prank reality TV show? Had everyone conspired to mess with him while hidden cameras captured his panicked reactions?
No.
The instant Lanqi's peripheral vision caught Abigail in the audience, he knew with absolute certainty that she wasn't playing a joke on him.
Because Abigail was currently sitting there slack-jawed in total horror.
Lanqi couldn't decipher what was going on, but that agonizingly familiar sensation had returned: everything rested entirely on his ability to salvage the trainwreck.
"Mister Butler, why are you staring at my table? Don't you think... there seem to be fewer pastries today?"
Lanqi forced the words out while sweating bullets.
He dragged out his syllables, desperately trying to cue the butler to catch his drift.
"Ah... haha! Yes, indeed! I just noticed that the pastries in your room have... m-mysteriously dwindled! I shall fetch you some more right away!"
The butler let out a hollow laugh, snatching up the lifeline Lanqi had tossed him.
Internally, he marveled at how Lanqi truly lived up to Director Abigail's faith in him—to smooth over such an unmitigated disaster in an instant!
Not only had he brushed off a "ghost eating food" as supernatural poltergeist activity, planting a clever foreshadowing seed, but he had also successfully covered for the butler, letting him explain that he had stared in that direction because the food had vanished, not because he had perceived the young half-demon lady.
"Young Master, I shall take my leave, then,"
the butler said, bowing deeply to the governor while doing his best to mask the panic in his eyes.
"Go on, then."
The governor shook his head, looking as though he saw right through the butler's evasions but could do nothing about it.
The butler's refusal to acknowledge the young lady was a tacit admission that no one could possibly evict her; the governor could only let the servant flee.
"Young Master, don't you feel the room is slightly chilly?"
Before exiting, standing by the doorway, the butler exhaled a plume of visible mist.
"It is winter. Quite natural,"
Lanqi replied, steadying his hand against the doorframe as he fought to calm his racing heart.
The difficulty curve was already this brutal in Act One; he had no idea what other terrifying crises awaited him in the scenes ahead.
Yet no matter what happened today, he had to see this performance through to perfection.
If a stage accident occurred and audience members began walking out, it would throw off Loren's meticulously synchronized itinerary and timing.
Standing on this stage, he had to preserve the audience's rapt attention even if it killed him.
"Very well, I shall take my leave."
The butler bowed low and bolted away as if escaping for his life.
Seconds later, only the demon governor and the young half-demon lady remained in the bedroom.
"..."
The young lady gazed at the demon governor's expression, her eyes brimmed with curiosity and delight, as if waiting to see how the governor would answer her and where he would take her out to play next.
Seeing that the governor remained silent for an eternity.
Finally, she rose to her feet like a triumphant victor and fixed her gaze upon him.
"How about this? As long as you can solve the riddle and discover who cursed you to constantly forget me..." Standing beside a brass floor lamp, she pointed at the governor with a bright smile, "...then even if you still cannot remember me, I will convince my family to release you from the burden of this betrothal!"
Painted upon the lampshade were tiny imps of the demonic purgatory chasing one another, looking for all the world as though a tempestuous romantic youth comedy was about to unfold.
Up in the audience.
Antanas and Sinnola leaned leisurely against their seatbacks, munching on snacks as they watched the stage with undivided attention.
"Is it just me, or does Hyperion feel a bit more feisty and spoiled today?"
Antanas had never read the original script, so her only point of reference was what she had seen during rehearsal.
Right now, it looked like a pure, unadulterated comedy.
Furthermore, Lanqi had clearly been thrown completely off-kilter by Hyperion for a brief moment earlier. It was just that other audience members unfamiliar with Lanqi hadn't realized it, assuming it was all masterfully staged acting.
"Huh, did Abigail tell them to perform it like this?"
Sinnola wondered aloud as well.
As everyone knew, the rehearsal cut and the official stage version were bound to differ.
Up to this point, subtle alterations had already cropped up in the plot.
Moreover, it wasn't just Hyperion; even Lanqi and the butler's acting had been dragged into slightly melodramatic territory by Hyperion, lending the entire performance an overt comedic flair.
"Has Hypie always been a comedic genius? This isn't even just comedy on the script level anymore, is it? She's generating pure absurdity through her raw acting style!" Antanas marveled, looking at Hyperion in an entirely new light.
The two whispered back and forth, savoring the show.
Neither of them noticed Abigail in the row ahead gripping her armrests like someone clinging to a runaway roller coaster, her shoulders trembling violently, unable to utter a single syllable for ages.
Roughly ten minutes later, Act One drew to a close.
The scenery shifted. The demon governor had concluded his instructions to the butler and bidden him farewell.
Dabbing at the cold sweat on his cheek with a handkerchief, he set out alongside the half-demon lady, arriving at the demonic academy.
Namely, the place where the half-demon lady insisted they shared cherished memories.
The corridors of the demonic academy were classically ornate, steeped in the scent of ancient timber beneath the gloom, carrying a hazy magical weight that spanned the depths of time. The far end of the hallway was swallowed in eternal shadow, concealing unknowable secrets.
"You claim this place can jog my memory?"
Music drifted down the vacant corridor, weaving together wept laments and soaring refrains that coiled about the governor and the half-demon lady like the overture to a desperate chase and escape.
Even though the eerie sights of the demonic academy struck the audience below as faintly chilling, the governor and the half-demon lady on stage remained completely composed—or rather, with the half-demon lady naturally dictating the room's upbeat mood, nobody could feel threatened by this level of horror.
"That's right!"
The half-demon lady nodded with absolute certainty, planting her hands on her hips before a locked door.
Golden patterns were inlaid across the dark marble floor, and the two stood upon a carpet woven with demonic flora motifs.
"Yet there are no photographs of us here. How do you intend to prove that we ever visited this music hall together?"
The governor stared at the grand lecture hall marked with a sign for music studies, questioning the half-demon lady.
"Just look—the music hall is crawling with ghosts!"
The half-demon lady simply shook her head and pushed open the sealed door.
When the projection of the classroom flared to life on stage, the scene within flooded into the audience's view. Far from a standard tiered lecture hall, it resembled a sprawling grand theater.
Lavish chandeliers, red velvet seats, and a solemn stage looked remarkably like a mirror image of the Ikerite Opera House, transported straight from another dimension.
Countless phantom silhouettes materialized, overlapping into indistinct forms, singing like a ghostly choir.
One of the signature delicacies Tata had tasted back in the Bosen Kingdom had been phantom bread; when Lanqi first brought her to the Posen Demon Realm, she had eaten those ethereal, ghost-shaped buns. Right now, the adorable little fellows floating beyond the door looked remarkably like plump loaves of phantom bread.
"And you know this was once my doing?"
The demon governor kept a rigid poker face as he gazed into the hellish choral chamber. But the instant he caught the half-demon lady drooling with ravenous hunger, his composure nearly cracked in half.
By all rights, this moment was supposed to establish a dark, suspenseful dread to set up the tragic twist at the end.
Yet right now, he felt as though they had just kicked open the doors to a culinary studio.
"Of course. I was there with you back then, which is why when they see me, they're terrified of me too."
The half-demon lady took a step into the hall and swallowed a mouthful of saliva.
The moment the ghosts saw her stepping forward, they recoiled in sheer terror, regarding her with dread equal to that they held for the governor.
"..."
The demon governor's brow furrowed tightly as he stared at the half-demon lady's predatory, hungry glare, harboring deep suspicions.
*How could they not be terrified of you?!*
*And Hypie, are you really that starved today?!*
Superficially, Hyperion's performance seemed to diverge only by minor degrees, but the overarching tone had already careened wildly off the rails.
Lanqi's scalp was prickling with dread.
He had no idea whether they could successfully pull off the ending if this kept up.
"These ghosts don't even know they're dead, so they just keep singing forever," the young lady continued.
"Very well. For now, I shall tentatively take your word for it—perhaps I really have forgotten you. But I still cannot rule out that this is an elaborate deception. Since I truly retain no memory of you, I shall continue investigating by your side until conclusive proof is found."
Lanqi had no choice but to take it one step at a time.
His brain was already running ragged, frantically calculating how to salvage the foreshadowing that had almost been blown wide open earlier, desperately trying to steer the runaway narrative back toward the intended conclusion.
"We'll retrace every step we took together, and you'll see all the traces we left behind!"
The half-demon lady laughed with sparkling excitement.
They wandered through the demon academy, unearthing the past.
Before long, the demonic academy segment of Act Two drew to a close, and preparations began for Act Three: the ancient castle on the desolate mountain.
Amidst the audience's warm applause, the curtain rose on the next scene.
A frigid gale swept across the stage.
It was not the biting chill of midwinter, but the crisp, razor-sharp air drawn at the summit of a lofty peak. The setting was the dilapidated interior of a desolate fortress.
This was the castle's ground-floor banquet hall, yet it doubled as an ancient chapel.
A magnificent pipe organ nearly three stories high occupied the entire rear wall, its pipes straight or curved, gleaming with gold or muted with natural wood grain, arranged in intricate layers and contours.
The centerpiece of the hall was dominated by an imposing, spacious dining table, its silver candelabras long extinguished. Down both sides of the long table, brown oak dining chairs sat in orderly array.
The governor immediately maneuvered his body to block the sideboard.
He was terrified that the young half-demon lady would start rummaging for food the second she stepped into the scene.
And indeed, from the way her eyes darted about earlier, he had clearly caught her scanning the room for snacks.
"What is there to find here?"
The governor shoved his hands back into his overcoat pockets, breath pluming in the air as he questioned the half-demon lady with deep vigilance.
"Do you feel the curse lingering in this castle? The moment you enter, a sickening discomfort weighs upon your body."
The young half-demon lady pressed her lips together, her eyes instinctively drifting toward the sideboard behind the governor.
There were clearly pastries over there, yet Lanqi was playing man-to-man defense, physically boxing her out from touching them.
To be fair, she had only reached for the snacks earlier because she had been slightly nervous upon taking the stage, thinking that a couple of bites would calm her nerves; furthermore, she had assumed the platter was prepared by Abigail specifically for Hyperion to eat, so she had simply helped herself out of habit.
This ancient castle was obviously not a setting where one could casually scavenge for food.
She wasn't stupid.
She merely felt that Lanqi was being inexplicably rude.
"This is indeed a cursed castle... but why does the formula of this curse feel so familiar...?"
The governor rested a hand upon the tabletop, sensing the magic while shooting sidelong glances at the half-demon lady.
"Could it be that I truly bear a curse upon me, and fell victim to this very technique without knowing?" he muttered to himself.
"Didn't I tell you it was your own problem? See, you found the curse on yourself after all. You simply refused to believe me before!"
The half-demon lady puffed out her chest, crossing her arms smugly.
This had turned from a murder mystery into a petty courtroom debate.
"My apologies..."
The demon governor was supposed to feel remorseful for falsely suspecting the half-demon lady. Yet looking at her infuriatingly smug, punchable face, he felt absolutely zero remorse; if anything, his blood pressure spiked.
Snapping back to his senses, he realized that for a fleeting second, he had instinctively mistaken the half-demon lady before him for Tata.
Even though this was unmistakably Hyperion.
A youthful young girl.
There was no way he could fail to recognize Hyperion's mana and presence.
"Hmph! When the time comes, if you still can't remember me, I won't cling to you anymore. It's not like I can't find anyone else to marry!"
The young half-demon lady proclaimed haughtily.
The demon governor did not answer her.
He was agonizing over what emotion he was even supposed to project right now.
In the eyes of the audience, the two of them had probably devolved into a bickering, flirtatious pair of lovers.
"Dummy, why don't you think carefully about clues to unravel the curse? That's the only way you'll remember me, isn't it?"
The half-demon lady stepped closer, raising a hand as though to gently caress the demon governor's cheek, only to halt a fraction of an inch away and pull it back.
She turned her profile away, looking as though they shouldn't be so intimate.
Even more, she refused to show any open affection for the governor.
"The curse should unravel on its own... No curse can persist for so long unless it is continually reinforced by the environment, or being cast repeatedly,"
the governor murmured, nodding blankly with vacant emerald eyes.
He had been scared out of his wits by her reaching hand a moment ago, genuinely fearing she was going to touch him.
Only in the final act would the Cardinal of Dimensions cast a simple spatial barrier, ensuring that even if the governor and the half-demon lady tried to embrace, they would exist in separate dimensional planes, unable to touch one another.
"And so?"
the half-demon lady prompted him.
"And so, it must be a demon near us who cursed me, seeking to destroy our families' alliance. Our scope of investigation has narrowed. We should return to the city at once,"
the demon governor replied, his eyes snapping back into focus.
"Let's go! We'll search around Grand Duke Horst's estate!"
the half-demon lady chimed in triumphantly.
At the climax of *Holy War Romance*, the half-demon lady and the governor would discover that Demon Grand Duke Horst was the mastermind pulling the strings, and by this point in the castle, the governor was supposed to deduce that clue.
Lanqi had clearly forgotten his lines just now, so thank goodness she had stepped in to cover for him!
"???"
Lanqi stared at her in utter disbelief.
*Excuse me, sister?!*
*Where the hell did Grand Duke Horst come from?!*
*Is there even a character named Grand Duke Horst in the opera adaptation of Holy War Romance?!*
"It's Grand Duke Horst, of course!"
The half-demon lady blinked furiously at him, trying her hardest to jog his memory.
"Then... as you wish."
Lanqi agreed, his voice trembling slightly.
He couldn't out-argue her on the spot; pushing the dispute any further would shatter the fourth wall entirely.
Having gathered their "clues" among the crags of the cliffside fortress, the two embarked on the road back to the city.
To accommodate their lighthearted dynamic, the mournful, melancholic piano accompaniment abruptly pivoted, morphing into a whimsical, jaunty melody.
Brisk, cheerful notes filled the hall. As the pitch ascended, brass and strings joined the fray, rendering the music grand, spirited, and playful—resembling a lively Broadway jazz number.
***
Up in the audience, Antanas watched with rapt attention, her furrowed brow etched with sheer confusion.
"Why do I get the feeling they're genuinely about to catch the culprit who cursed them?"
Antanas was utterly bewildered.
Even having seen the rehearsal and knowing the actual answer to the mystery, she genuinely felt as though they were on the verge of cracking a real case.
From Act Three onward, whenever the governor prepared to lead the half-demon lady away, the lady would rattle off a barrage of clues like a master detective, forcing the governor to draw deduction after deduction.
"Lanqi looks like he's doing hard time in prison,"
Sinnola observed, noticing how wrong Lanqi's state seemed.
In the original novel, the story indeed concluded with the demon governor and the half-demon lady battling the demon grand duke to capture the mastermind behind their curse.
In Abigail's revised theatrical script, however, they were never supposed to solve the mystery. Not only would they never find the caster, but it would be revealed that no such caster ever existed—the entire demon realm conspiracy was merely a delusion born of their longing.
Lanqi had been dragged off-course, forced to humor Hypie, drifting further and further astray.
Yet Lanqi had to know that turning this subplot into such a joyful romp, completely devoid of the tragic foreshadowing required throughout, would make the final tragedy feel jarring and unearned. Forcing a tragic ending onto an audience that had been primed for laughs wouldn't be a smooth landing—it would be a catastrophic crash.
Throughout the scene, the constant bickering and banter between the governor and the half-demon lady sent ripples of laughter through the auditorium.
Iphatia in particular was giggling with absolute delight, rediscovering the unbridled joy she had felt during the Cinderella Arc.
"Hehehe!"
What Iphatia loved most was romantic bickering.
"Look at Hypie's performance! She keeps making Bro... Lanqi sweat buckets! That miserable 'serving a life sentence' look on his face is hilarious no matter how you look at it!" Iphatia whispered to the black-haired beauty beside her.
The black-haired beauty was giggling so hard she had to cover her mouth.
"Sinnola, do you feel like Hypie has been possessed by Tata today?"
Antanas turned and asked Sinnola quietly.
Were it not for the fact that Talia was sitting right there not far away, she would have sworn the person on stage was Tata herself.
"You think so too?"
Sinnola met Antanas's gaze in astonishment.
Turns out she wasn't the only one thinking it.
Lanqi on stage was undoubtedly losing his mind as well, wracking his brain to the bone without being able to fathom what was happening.
"Pra—"
Antanas wanted to consult Pranay; at a time like this, only Pranay could see through to the truth.
Yet when Antanas leaned down to glance past Sinnola, she discovered that Pranay had vanished.
"Where's your brother?"
Antanas asked Sinnola.
"My brother looked like he went to the restroom a moment ago."
Sinnola glanced toward the aisle. She recalled Pranay slipping away moments before without uttering a single word.
"Huh...?"
Antanas's expression froze.
She glanced timidly toward Abigail in the front row.
Looking closely, she realized that the aura radiating from Abigail had turned terrifying beyond measure. Veins pulsed violently across the back of her hands; apparently, this entire performance had devolved into an absolute disaster, bearing not the slightest resemblance to her choreography.
Antanas swallowed hard, too intimidated to make a peep.
She could only stare at the stage.
Bearing silent witness as the catastrophe unfolded.
Right now, she hardly dared to imagine what kind of hell Lanqi was enduring up on that stage.
Chapter 882