Fate is always so strangely coincidental.
Ray didn't understand why, no matter where he went, to which place, he always seemed to encounter Phrolova at some corner of the world.
This perhaps...
was destiny?
Ray didn't understand either.
But he didn't dislike such serendipity or rather, it had already become a certain inevitability in his travels.
"Why are you in Septimont?" He bent down to help the young woman pick up the scattered red currants.
In his memory, this fruit was tart and rarely eaten raw; it was mostly used for seasoning.
But considering Phrolova's unique palate, perhaps she really did treat red currants as a staple food.
Phrolova lightly pressed her lips together, crouching down quietly to gather the fallen fruit, countering impassively: "That's exactly what I was going to ask you."
Of course, she knew why he was here.
"I came with the Second Young Miss. She said it was a business trip..." Ray shrugged. "But calling it a business trip, I have no clue what the actual task is. The Second Young Miss left yesterday and hasn't shown up since. Right now, I'm just accompanying an Oracle Maiden from the Tetragon Temple around the city."
"I was trying to catch up with her just now and accidentally bumped into you."
Here, he seemed to remember something and asked with concern: "Are you hurt?"
"Isn't it a bit late to ask that now?"
"...Alright, my oversight." Ray let out a light sigh, picking up the last red currant and placing it back in the basket before handing it to the young woman. "But you usually eat these? Won't that cause malnutrition?"
As he spoke, his gaze inadvertently swept over Phrolova.
Among the girls he knew, she did seem slender, yet her figure still held soft curves.
In that aspect, she was better off than the Second Young Miss.
Facing this sudden concern, the young woman's wine-red eyes flickered, like a stone dropped into a long-silent lake, sending ripples across its surface.
At some point in the past, she seemed to have heard similar words from his lips.
But those beautiful illusions had long been buried forever in a decaying tomb.
The wind announcing the shattering of dreams was too sorrowful, like a broken elegy. Her thoughts drifted gradually, yet her body felt an unprecedented heaviness.
Phrolova lightly bit her teeth, using one hand to lightly wrap around her other arm, turning her face away somewhat awkwardly as if unwilling to let him see her current expression.
"...I'm used to it."
She was long accustomed to sealing her true feelings in the deepest corner, facing the world with a false mask.
Whether it was the tart red currants or her solitary way of life, both had become the norm for her.
External words and actions could no longer stir even half a ripple in her heart.
Only he was the exception.
Even after centuries of waiting had already turned hope into profound despair, only he could still touch the last remnants of softness in her heart.
So it was in the past, so it is now, and so it will be... in the future.
"You should be a little kinder to yourself sometimes." Ray said softly. "How about... trying my cooking another day? Don't judge by my appearance; I'm quite confident in my culinary skills."
The young woman's eyes trembled slightly, her gaze somewhat dazed as she looked at him, her fingers unconsciously tightening.
Those fleeting fragments of memory, the people and events within them, for some reason began to overlap with the reality before her, blurring her emotions and halting her words.
What should she say?
What should she do?
She didn't know.
Just in this dazed moment, she returned once more to that long-lost past.
"I—"
Before her words could finish, the moonlight, at the moment the Spider Lilies bloomed across the shore, stole the last trace of dreamlike color from her eyes.
"Ray, what are you spacing out for here?" Luno trotted over lightly, grabbing his wrist. "Hurry, come see! The performance over there is about to start!"
Without waiting for a response, she pulled him into the bustling stream of people, leaving that unfinished silence far behind.
Phrolova watched his receding figure. Past and reality overlapped before her eyes. Those dreamlike fragments ultimately dissipated in reality's cold wind.
The young woman had never started with any noble ideals, had never harbored any noble ideals.
She simply yearned for a "love" that wouldn't drift away, longed for it to last "forever."
And she had long understood,
In the future he was rushing towards, there had never been a place reserved for her.
The young woman picked up the fruit basket, not showing any emotion, and turned to leave the place.
Reality held no reason for her to linger anymore.
At the Shore of Lost Afterlife, in that new world, he would eventually return a promise to her.
...
...
Septimont, Ephor's Palace.
As usual, Augusta, assisted by the Senate, handled the administrative affairs of Septimont.
Only a communication from the Tetragon Temple briefly interrupted her deep thought.
"Luno? She left the Temple without permission again?"
"Yes, I'll find her as soon as possible."
"Don't worry, Grandmother Lillibet."
"What? There's activity in the Sanguis Plateaus? Blightclouds gathering?"
"But it's not the tidal period now, is it?"
"This situation wasn't in the prophecies?"
"I understand. I'll dispatch people to investigate immediately."
After ending the communication, Augusta massaged her temples, letting out a long sigh.
Though she was long accustomed to her dear friend's willfulness, she still had to repeatedly placate the Senate's criticism for her.
For Augusta, who had ascended to the Ephor's position through strength rather than connections, dealing with the Senate was inherently tricky.
And now, the abnormal condensation of Blightclouds over the Sanguis Plateaus, causing large-scale Echo energy disturbances, this variable, unseen in prophecies, cast an even deeper shadow over her heart.
"Could it be... that being... has matured?"
During past hunts, the gladiators of Septimont gradually realized, the Blightclouds entrenched over the Sanguis Plateaus weren't inert. They were a peculiar creation possessing life and consciousness.
But the truth about it remained shrouded in mystery until now.
People only knew it was born from the Dark Tide, itself a manifestation of it.
It continuously strengthened itself by devouring the frequencies of other living beings.
Now, the people of Septimont called it the "The False Sovereign."
But so far, almost no one had seen its true form, and no one had truly managed to harm it.
This wasn't because the people of Septimont were weak, but because its very existence was a paradox.
It existed subjectively, yet was objectively untraceable.
Unless it chose to appear, no method could locate its traces, let alone launch an attack.
"But this shouldn't be. Without powerful frequencies to devour, how could it have grown this fast?"
Augusta sighed softly.
"Ah, well. Finding Luno takes priority first."