NOVPUBMeanwhile, on the other side.
"Hmm?"
Hyperion let out a puzzled sound.
It seemed she had a very long dream.
In the dream, she was taken by Lanci into a Seventh-order Shadow World, she became the Princess of the Demon Clan who was protected by a Ninth-order demon while being confined in the Demon King Palace. After finally meeting Lanci, some emergency happened that startled her awake.
Upon waking, she found herself in the Royal Capital Ichrite.
Today should be a good day, one could tell just by looking out of the window.
The view of Ichrite was as quaint as ever, beneath the clear skies, one could see a stretch of azure and pristine color through the glass window; in the spring, the sunlight made her skin feel warm.
She stood under the majestic dome of the great Cathedral of Ichrite.
The statues and frescoes of the deities seemed to descend from the skies, silently watching over from above.
The interior of the church was filled with a holy air, and every decorative piece from the Divine Era was a testament to time, blending magnificently with the pure white and pale gold florals that lined the walls and archways, together weaving a corridor painting like a dreamscape.
At this moment, she was dressed in a style of dress that she would never normally wear, holding a bouquet in her hands.
This sheer dress of the purest white was light and luxurious, adorned with delicate lace and pearl embellishments, soft as the spread of the hemline quietly diffused over the carpet like a weightless cloud.
Looking toward the church entrance’s frescoed glass doors, in the faint reflection, she saw that her hair was styled into a dignified bun, decorated with the most treasured hairpiece of Duke Alansar’s House.
"You can’t be sleepy at a time like this, can you?"
A familiar voice came through.
Hyperion, dreamy-eyed, looked over to see a man in an exceptionally formal attire, whose demeanor didn’t allow for any sense of distance.
"Father?"
Hyperion, holding onto the arm of Duke Migaya, gazed at his figure.
The black-haired, black-eyed man carried an unbelievable handsomeness.
It was as if he had just led her into this church.
Wait, wasn’t Duke Migaya missing? And wasn’t her dear friend Lanci supposed to have promised her that he would find her father?
Confused, Hyperion shook her head, unable to remember which day she had dreamed this.
Sometimes a dream is so vivid it blurs the line between what are true memories from experience and what are remnants from a night’s dream.
As Hyperion, lost in a daze, unconsciously turned her gaze toward the front row of the church.
She saw a woman with silver hair.
This woman was also dressed formally today and raised her hand to Hyperion with a smile, after they locked eyes.
Hyperion’s eyes immediately soured.
Indeed, it had been a dream.
Her mother in reality hadn’t abandoned her at all.
"Hyperion!"
Isatia from the long rows of seats in the church waved to Hyperion, as if cheering her on for the big event of her life.
Talia was also sitting next to Isatia, absorbed in eating her petits fours, but she looked up and waved at her as well.
Hyperion didn’t know why Isatia was reacting this way at this moment, nor why she felt as if she hadn’t seen her parents for many years, despite seeing them at home every day.
She suddenly felt afraid to talk more with them, fearing she could not differentiate between dream and reality, possibly turning this moment into a nightmare and losing this intense yet stable happiness all over again.
Furthermore, the church was filled with friends from Ichrite whom she had known since childhood. They all gave her sincere and friendly looks without the slightest bit of resentment, making her feel even more ecstatic.
Her bouquet trembled in her hands, feeling heavy despite its lightness, as if she was afraid to accept this happiness.
However, at this moment.
Hyperion seemed to finally grasp an essential question—
Why was she in the Ichrite Cathedral today?
She abruptly turned around, looking toward the end of the church.
On that side.
The central crucifix and various fantastical godly frescoes on the towering walls shimmered with myriad speckles of light from the colorful stained glass windows, casting patchy spots on those white and gold petals.
A figure stood under the crucifix, his lips curved into that warm, gentle smile she knew all too well.
The white and gold flowers under the breeze’s caress were more vivid and gleaming, exuding an elegant and enchanting fragrance, and he stood right at the end of those flowers.
In that moment, Hyperion felt as if she lost all capacity for thought.
She had spent the previous day obsessing over the wedding vows she had specially prepared for today, worried that she might forget what she wanted to say at the critical moment, or lose the dignified comportment of a Duchess.
Yet, just now, as she walked into the church on her father’s arm, her nerves got the better of her, and for a moment she almost forgot where she was, what she was supposed to say, and what kind of day it was.
Hyperion tried to stabilize her heartbeat with her breath, but to no avail; her body refused to obey her.
Only when her gaze fell upon the radiant figure not far away could she truly calm herself.
The nervousness in Hyperion’s heart gradually subsided.
Taking a deep breath, she readied herself for that most crucial moment.
Walking forward with Duke Migaya until she stopped in front of Lanci.
"May your future life together be blessed with happiness. The gods have led you to each other, and your unique destinies shall never part."
With deep trust, Duke Migaya carefully handed his daughter’s hand to Lanci, his voice a blend of solemnity and tenderness as he bestowed his blessing.
Hyperion’s hand trembled slightly. Within the solemnity of the grand Ichrite Cathedral, her fingertips touched Lanci’s, as if conveying a silent vow.
She gazed at Lanci, not sure if he was a figment of her imagination or really there.
In the gentle melody of the harp, their gazes met and time seemed to stand still.
The sunlight in the church bathed them, golden wings like the blessing of the Goddess of Destiny.
Lanci leaned down slightly, and Hyperion felt his presence drawing nearer, the cadence of his heartbeat palpable.
Just as she closed her eyes, bracing for the kiss of promise, when her heart was about to burst uncontrollably.
She suddenly woke up from the bed.
"...?"
On this midsummer night bathed in the July moonlight, from the highest level of the seaside mansion, Hyperion could see the stars and the bay just by sitting up in the exquisitely furnished room.
Despite the deep night, the bedroom felt tranquil and cozy, illuminated by the moonlight and a warm table lamp.
A slight sound broke the silence—the gentle flipping of book pages from the tall wooden desk next to the chair.
Hyperion stared blankly at the room, and at the figure seated not far away in the chair.
He was dressed in a gray suit, as profound as the night sky, exuding a sense of composure and refinement.
In the dim light, his form appeared even more upright, his eyes deep with the wisdom of the years.
It was all a dream, after all; how could Lanci ever be dressed in a white tailcoat to marry her? He would always wear dark suits, like a principal.
Hyperion thought to herself with relief, exhaling the air that had been trapped in her chest.
Noticing that Hyperion was awake, Lanci quickly looked towards her.
"What’s the matter?"
Lanci watched her, his usual tender concern clear in his gentle voice.
"Nothing!"
Hyperion recalled the remnants of her dream, feeling her blood rush to her cheeks, her eyes widening as she waved her hands dismissively.
Although it had been a long time since she saw Lanci, now that they were finally reunited and alone together, there should have been much to talk about.
But recalling the morning’s events in the palace, her shouted response, and her recent dream, she felt at a loss for words with Lanci.
Although they usually conversed with ease each day, now she felt as if she couldn’t be alone with him.
"You, you didn’t see my dream, did you?"
After calming herself, steadying her rapid breathing, and settling her heaving chest, Hyperion looked at him again and tentatively asked.
"I’ve brought you out of the Barrier of Fallen Wonderland a long time ago, but considering how unrested you’ve seemed these days, I didn’t want to disturb your sleep."
Lanci put down the spine of the book he was holding with one hand, moved to the chair beside Hyperion’s bed, and sat down, speaking to her.
The afternoon’s incident had already been dealt with by the Fallen Queen. After everything temporarily came to an end, he took Hyperion back to the mansion across the bay, and the Fallen Queen herself had brought the princess over, entrusting Lanci to take good care of her.
Unless it was an emergency, Lanci would not interfere with someone else’s dream.
Last time, in the fourth level below the Prison, if he hadn’t woken Hyperion up, she would have remained trapped in the dream until her soul dissipated. This time, Calila had already ended the magic, which no longer posed a threat to Hyperion.
So he let Hyperion get some good sleep, keeping watch in the room.
"By the way, what did you dream about?"
Lanci asked, intrigued.
Logically, Hyperion’s dream should have been similar to her last one.
But seeing her reaction just now suggested there was something she didn’t want him to see.
"Ugh!"
From close quarters, Hyperion looked at Lanci’s face, her gaze inadvertently drawn to his lips, which caused her cheeks to flush again. She grabbed the quilt to cover her face, hiding from Lanci like an ostrich.
