Chapter 112: If This Kind of Ti Could Continue Forever
When Helen ca out of the fortune-telling shop, half an hour had already passed.
The setting sun slowly withdrew its light from the earth, and the color of the sky shifted from fiery red to pitch black.
Rast waited just outside the shop’s door, his shadow rging with the deepening dusk beneath the sunset.
“You’re out?”
“How was it? Is that fortune-teller reliable?”
Rast looked at Helen, who erged holding a small notebook, and asked.
However, he already knew the answer in his heart.
Because he had discussed it with the team in advance, planning to include the “Fortune-Telling Club” segnt—
Rast had already revealed so details about Her Majesty’s daily life to his teammates using their agreed-upon code.
After all, the questions a woman might ask in a fortune-telling session were nothing out of the ordinary.
What’s her pet’s na, what’s her favorite color, which outfit she liked the most… things like that.
Next would be matters like wealth, love, academics… just go along with the client’s expectations, provide so emotional value, and that would be enough.
Whoever the team assigned to play the role, with the intel Rast had given, there would be no problem at all pretending to be a fortune-teller.
As he thought this, Rast noticed a line of delicate ice-blue handwriting appear on his cuff.
“Very reliable.”
“I really liked… the future she foretold o(^▽^)o”
The final emoji matched the joy sparkling in the girl’s eyes.
A foretold future?
What exactly had Grey and Her Majesty talked about in the fortune-telling shop?
Rast's thoughts shifted slightly.
The next mont, he saw the girl before him stepping lightly to his side.
She reached out her hand and, just like earlier that day, took Rast’s hand in hers.
Imdiately after, Rast felt a slight weight on his shoulder—soone gently resting their head against him.
At that very mont, darkness fell, and the boundless night swept across the world.
Beneath the black sky do, their silhouettes resembled stone-carved sculptures.
「This kind of ti…」
「If only it could go on forever.」
The writing on Rast’s sleeve glowed faintly blue in the darkness.
…
As night descended, the main streets of the royal capital gradually lit up.
At first, it was just a few scattered points, but soon light spread throughout.
Electricity hadn’t yet beco widespread in this era, so the nights couldn’t mimic daylight like in the present world.
Lanterns and oil lamps of all sizes flickered with gentle light, dividing the world into two mirrored halves.
The skyline was the mirror’s edge, reflecting a star-studded ocean.
「We have to go ho.」
「If we’re out any later, Anna will find out we snuck out.」
Helen wrote these words for Rast to see, but she herself turned reluctantly to gaze at the pitch-black mountain beyond the city’s outskirts.
That was the place where fireworks had been set off that night, its slopes covered with lush forest, and from its peak, one could see the sea on the other side… it was just like the place where the protagonists of Chronicle of Silver Wings lived in seclusion at the end.
Helen had wanted to go there from the beginning… but the sights in the city alone had dazzled her so much, taking up the whole day. By the ti she ca to her senses, it was already very late.
「If we sneak out for several days in a row, Anna will probably get suspicious very soon.」
「Let’s go back and rest properly for a few days. Next week, when it’s Anna’s shift, we’ll go there.」
Rast didn’t speak, only wrote the words in Helen’s notebook as well.
Anna was the head maid of the palace and, nominally, Rast’s superior.
Apparently, she had already served as a palace maid back when Helen’s mother was still reigning.
Therefore, even Helen sotis respected Anna’s opinions.
If she found out Rast had been spiriting away the Queen… she would undoubtedly beco a major obstacle to his operations.
Hearing this, Helen nodded obediently.
She saw Rast raise his hand and wave toward the end of the street.
The next mont—
A shiny, well-maintained taxi carriage silently pulled up in front of them.
…
“Well done, Little Grey!”
The curtain of the fortune-teller’s cabin was suddenly flung open.
The petite Yanice, at that mont, charged in like a bear.
“Captain just sent word—Her Majesty the Queen was very pleased with this fortune-telling session.”
“Our plan is progressing smoothly, and the mission target has placed complete trust in the Captain.”
“Next, the ‘Lost Paradise’ plan can proceed to the third stage, the final wrap-up.”
Yanice hugged Grey, who was still dressed as a fortune-teller, rubbing against her pale cheek.
“Nice going, Little Grey.”
“When you first volunteered to play the role of the fortune-teller, both the Vice-Captain and I were worried you might freeze up and blow the cover, but you really pulled it off.”
“Even with the insider intel the Captain provided beforehand, it still shows you’ve got talent in acting.”
“And… that’s a queen, after all! One who can match a legend on her ho turf!”
“Yet you held your ground with a calm face… even the Vice-Captain said your composure and steadiness—like remaining unshaken while Mount Tai collapses—is sothing all new Shorewatchers should learn from.”
Yanice’s excitent was evident.
It was no wonder—after all, for a rookie Shorewatcher to start off with such a high-level mission and play such a crucial role, assisting the team in pushing the plan to its final stage—
It was a worthy achievent to be proud of, no matter how you looked at it.
However, on the other side—
Grey, whose figure was cloaked in a hooded cape, showed none of Yanice’s joy or pride.
She rely stared blankly at the wooden table before her, at the crystal-clear athyst sphere resting on top.
It had originally just been a prop the Shorewatcher team had found for Grey’s performance as a fortune-teller…
But now, the brilliant silver gleam within the athyst sphere had not yet faded.
There was still a lingering trace.
It was the echo of “Fate” manifesting in the present world.
That initial question-and-answer exchange between her and Helen had indeed been scripted using the inside info provided by Rast.
Anyone in the Shorewatcher team could’ve delivered those lines reasonably well.
But—
The final question Helen asked, and her own response—those weren’t just acting.
Recalling the scene she had just seen in her mind—
A trace of confusion flickered in Grey’s erald green eyes.
The “Lost Paradise” plan, the outco of that prophecy, even her own role in this grand play as one of the planners…
For so reason—
The things Rast was doing in Paradise Royal Capital right now—when viewed through Grey’s eyes—
Felt disconnected and incongruous with the figure in her mories—the one who had saved her from the hopeless loop of Frozenwater Town.
As if sothing was still hidden in the fog, yet to be revealed.
…
In the present world, the Arcane Tower.
The light screen rippled like water, reflecting the scenes within.
Rain had begun to fall over the royal capital shrouded in night.
It wasn’t the violent storm from earlier, but a light drizzle.
Even in the dim streetlights, the fine rain drifted like threads.
Evening winds and fine rain intertwined, adding a touch of loneliness to the city as it returned to peace from its earlier clamor.
The carriage carrying Rast and Helen dashed through the puddled streets of the imperial capital, splashing water in its wake.
“They’re headed back to the palace.”
Dean Silver chewed on a grilled fish cake, pointing at the image in the screen.
Her snacks had been upgraded from dried fish to grilled fish cakes, all thanks to the long livestream that had even made Ophelia herself hungry—so she had sent soone to bring food to the Arcane Tower.
And Dean Silver, sly or shaless as she was, seized the chance to freeload off the Second Princess’s food budget.
“Anyone could see that. No need to state the obvious, Snow Ferret.”
Ophelia rolled her eyes at Dean Silver.
But the ferret clearly wasn’t about to stop her comntary just because of her words.
For this ultimate hobody, watching a stream without comntary was like watching a video without bullet comnts or reading a novel without footnotes—the fun would be cut in half.
“So—this kid even has good luck in romance, huh?”
“If they hadn’t boarded the carriage early, they’d be drenched by now.”
“Not luck.”
Ophelia shook her head, her wine-red eyes fixed on everything within the screen.
Behind her, the necro-tal flickered with matrix light, and the chanist’s auxiliary AI completed a slow-motion analysis of the earlier footage: “That carriage driver is suspicious.”
“Though dressed like a coachman, his hands lack the marks of soone who grips a whip daily or weathers the sun.”
“And his breathing is steady—clearly a well-trained soldier, or soone from a similar profession.”
“Additionally, though hard to spot—”
“When the two boarded the carriage, there was subtle eye contact between this driver and Rast.”
In her wine-red eyes, streams of dark data flowed rapidly.
Then ca a sound, data-backed conclusion: “That coachman is working with my brother-in-law.”
“Moreover, that coachman—or rather, the team behind him—likely possesses so ability to predict the weather. They foresaw the rain.”
“That’s why the carriage arrived in advance to pick them up.”
“Given the context of the Sixth Era, I’d say it’s a kind of supernatural power.”
“Whoa, scary. A weather-prediction-type supernatural ability?” Dean Silver was shocked.
“Good thing it’s the Sixth Era… In the present world, the best job they’d get is at the teorological bureau as a host.”
Ophelia ignored the ferret’s sarcasm and focused once again on the surging data stream.
After a long silence, she spoke softly: “It’s not just that coachman.”
“Their entire activity today—from the circus to the Fortune-Telling Club—was orchestrated by this team behind the scenes.”
“This was a complete performance, down to the last detail… except for the story’s female lead.”
“Yeah… But what’s their goal?”
Dean Silver finished her cake and licked the crumbs off her paw, his playful tone fading a little.
“Putting on such a grand romance… there’s gotta be a reason.”
“Who knows. Making a near-legendary queen fall in love with you—that’s got a lot of benefits.”
Ophelia’s voice turned slightly cold: “Being seduced by beauty, aiming to freeload, targeting so treasure in the kingdom, or just a honey trap… all possible.”
The conversation between the two suddenly paused.
Because in the image—
The speeding carriage slowly ca to a stop.
It was a small, inconspicuous alley in the inner city, just a street away from the central palace.
Rast jumped down first and opened an umbrella he had taken from the carriage.
Next, a pale leg stepped out—then the girl with ice-blue hair leapt down.
She lightly touched the ground with her toes, avoiding the puddles.
Under the umbrella, they ran toward the alley leading to the palace.
The girl’s steps were light, while Rast’s stride was steady.
The black umbrella perfectly covered the girl, yet only half of Rast.
In the swaying tip of the umbrella and the flowing strands of ice-blue hair, the sound of the rain seed to fade away.
In the light drizzle, that narrow alley stretched endlessly into the night.
Dean Silver opened her mouth to deliver her usual snark, but no words ca out.
She turned to look at Ophelia beside her—only to see that she, too, was looking at him.
They stared at each other in silence. They wanted to say sothing but found no words.
You’ve played all day with your friend, and on the weary journey ho, you sit in a carriage, listening to the rain outside.
As the city quiets, your soul quiets with it… In that silence, your hearts are so close, even your breaths are in sync.
Only those who have experienced it can truly judge how beautiful that mont is.
But sadly, neither the lifelong shut-in ferret nor the overly-mature but still-underage princess had such mories.
So, the two of them—the “comntator duo”—could only sit there in silence, watching the screen.
“So beautiful…”
After a long ti, Ophelia whispered.
“Yes… very beautiful.”
Dean Silver nodded.
Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure of her earlier speculation.
The scene was too beautiful—so much so that one wouldn’t want to destroy it.
Even if Rast’s heart was a deep, light-swallowing black hole… he should still be able to feel this beauty, right?
This was a fairytale-level love story—so it should have a fairytale ending.
“To toy with feelings, stir up hearts, and deceive an innocent girl… surely he wouldn’t be so cruel, right?”
“If you write a stage play like that, you’ll be condemned by the masses, cursed by all, hunted down by everyone, you know?”
Dean Silver mumbled.
Her mumbling was soft, but Ophelia heard every word.
Her wine-red eyes fixed on the image again, lost in thought.
“If he really is like that…”
“Then… I suppose he’s quite the match for my sister.”
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