Before the lanterns fully rose—

  Shura had disappeared into one of the small festival stalls.

  He returned awkwardly.

  In his hand was a small circlet made of woven stems.

  At the center—

  A pure white flower.

  Simple. Round. Almost glowing under the lantern light.

  He stopped in front of Yura.

  “…Here.”

  Yura blinked.

  “For me?”

  Shura nodded.

  She tilted her head slightly.

  “How did you know I love this flower?”

  Shura froze.

  “I— I didn’t. I just found it.”

  A pause.

  Lantern light reflected in her eyes.

  “…It suited you,” he added quickly.

  His ears turned red.

  Yura smiled softly.

  “Then I’ll treasure it.”

  She carefully placed the white flower on her head.

  For a second—

  Shura forgot the festival existed.

  Zenkyou noticed.

  “…Hopeless,” she muttered under her breath.

  Ren smirked slightly.

  Orin pretended not to see.

  And then—

  Emma finally arrived.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Orin turned brightly toward Shura.

  “Shura! This is Emma.”

  Shura smiled and stepped forward.

  “Nice to meet y—”

  He stopped.

  There was no one.

  Just empty air beside Orin.

  Shura blinked.

  Ren immediately covered Shura’s mouth.

  “Wow, Shura,” Ren said loudly. “Go enjoy the festival instead of staring.”

  Shura struggled. “Mmph?!”

  Ren pulled him aside.

  His voice dropped.

  “…Don’t.”

  Shura frowned. “Don’t what?”

  Ren’s expression changed — serious, colder than usual.

  “Emma… doesn’t exist.”

  Shura froze.

  “I don’t know what happened,” Ren continued quietly. “Maybe she’s dead. Maybe something else. But Orin still sees her.”

  Shura swallowed.

  “Don’t tell her,” Ren said firmly. “Ever.”

  Shura turned toward Zenkyou.

  “Hey, what’s with the headache?”

  Zenkyou pressed her temple lightly.

  Too many people Shittt!!

  She forced a smile.

  “It’s nothing. Just a headache.”

  Shura grinned.

  “Ohhh, so you are human.”

  Zenkyou’s eye twitched.

  She raised her hand slightly.

  Shura backed away instantly. “WAIT WAIT WAIT—”

  “Heyyy, everyone.”

  Master Juro had arrived.

  Beside him — a Young girl.

  Yura tilted her head.

  “Master… who’s she?”

  Juro answered calmly.

  “She’s my daughter.”

  Ren.

  Shura.

  Yura.

  “…What?!”

  Juro nodded once.

  “It’s a long story.”

  Yura looked closer.

  “Why are you holding her like that?”

  Juro’s expression softened.

  “She suffers from paralysis.”

  The noise of the festival seemed to quiet for a second.

  Then—

  The festival began.

  Firecrackers burst in the distance.

  Lanterns rose into the air like drifting stars.

  Golden light reflected across the surface of the lake, rippling with every movement of wind.

  Music started — soft drums, distant flutes weaving through the air like threads of memory.

  The first note of the flute rose above the crowd.

  Jiyan slowly turned his head.

  Very slowly.

  Dante felt it immediately.

  “…Don’t,” Dante muttered.

  Jiyan leaned closer, whispering dramatically,

  “Ah yes… the legendary flute. Should I be concerned?”

  Dante’s eye twitched.

  “It’s just an instrument.”

  “Oh? Just an instrument?” Jiyan placed a hand over his heart.

  “Not one capable of altering entire populations?”

  A few nearby nobles coughed awkwardly.

  Dante grabbed Jiyan by the collar and pulled him closer.

  “If you finish that sentence,” Dante said calmly, smiling dangerously,

  “I’ll demonstrate population reduction.”

  Jiyan grinned.

  “See? So violent. And they say I’m the unstable one.”

  The flute melody softened again, drifting gently over the lake.

  For a brief moment, Dante looked away.

  Not angry.

  Just thoughtful.

  Jiyan noticed — but didn’t tease further.

  Even he knew when to stop.

  The entire crowd seemed to glow under the golden beams rising from the kingdom’s center.

  The air smelled of sugar, smoke, and water.

  For a moment, the world felt peaceful.

  In the middle of the lake—

  Two masked figures stepped forward.

  Strange outfits. Elegant. Concealed.

  They began to dance.

  No visible platform.

  No bridge.

  No surface beneath their feet.

  They walked on water.

  Their movements were slow at first — then fluid, synchronized.

  Each step sent faint ripples of golden light outward.

  The crowd grew silent.

  Some blushed.

  Some whispered.

  Some forgot to breathe.

  Even the lake seemed to listen.

  Shura leaned forward.

  “Master… how are they walking on water?”

  Juro glanced at him.

  “You’ve never heard of enjoying something without dissecting it?”

  Ren burst out laughing.

  Zenkyou smirked.

  Yura covered her mouth, laughing softly.

  Shura deflated.

  “…Fine.”

  Yua’s eyes reflected the lantern light.

  They shimmered.

  Tears filled them — not sadness.

  Overwhelming happiness.

  Juro knelt slightly, holding her closer.

  “I can’t hear your words,” he said gently.

  “But I’m glad you’re happy.”

  Yua tried to speak.

  No sound came.

  Her fingers tightened against his sleeve.

  Zenkyou quietly watched the dancing figures.

  Her headache faded slightly.

  “…For once,” she muttered, “nothing feels threatening.”

  Ren exhaled slowly.

  Even Beast, standing at a distance, had loosened his fists.

  For one night, no one was fighting.

  Orin suddenly walked forward.

  “Shura. You were asking about my fighting style, right?”

  Shura’s eyes sparkled instantly.

  “Yes!”

  Orin smiled confidently.

  he lifted her bow.

  Drew an arrow.

  Aimed at the sky.

  Shura’s excitement faltered.

  “You’re just shooting it into the air?”

  The arrow flew.

  For a second — nothing.

  Then—

  The black ceiling above fractured like glass.

  And beyond it—

  A sky.

  Not golden.

  Not artificial.

  A deep, endless night.

  Scattered stars.

  Soft pale light stretching across it.

  The surface sky.

  The entire festival gasped.

  Zenkyou stared upward.

  Ren went silent.

  Yura’s breath caught.

  Yua’s tears fell freely now.

  Shura trembled.

  “…How… do you know about that?”

  Orin lowered her bow.

  “I’m cool,” he said simply.

  No one laughed.

  Everyone kept staring upward.

  For a moment—

  The underground world remembered the sky.