There was no wind here, no sound, and even the flow of time had become blurred.
Countless stars gathered into a brilliant band of light, flowing quietly in the endless darkness; it was as if the mysteries of the world were condensed right here.
A girl walked forward along a solidified band of light.
Her footsteps were very light. Her black short boots stepped onto the solidified starlight without making any sound, as if this path had been paved for her alone.
At the end of the path sat the back of a man.
He sat casually at the edge of the light band, one leg bent and an arm resting on his knee, his posture relaxed and at ease. The faint shimmer of the stars outlined his silhouette—shoulders that weren't particularly burly and a profile illuminated by the endless sea of stars.
“You’re back?”
His voice was very gentle, as if he had been waiting for a long time, yet had never been in a hurry.
The girl nodded and sat down beside him, her slender calves unconsciously swinging back and forth, a gesture completely at odds with her title as the “All-Knowing, All-Powerful Sage.”
“Mhm,” she responded, her tone carrying a hint of a small complaint. “There were some accidents.”
She paused and then added, “I had to step out for a bit, and a version of my formulas was ruined, so I had to come back early.”
The man let out a soft chuckle and didn't press for details.
He reached out his hand, wanting to pat his daughter's head as he used to, but halfway there, his hand stopped in mid-air.
His fingertips hovered for a moment less than an inch from the top of her head before finally resting gently on her shoulder, as if afraid of breaking something.
“You’ve worked hard.”
The girl swung her legs and didn't speak.
She seemed accustomed to this withdrawn gesture of his; she didn't ask about it, nor did she seem to care.
Or perhaps, she was just pretending not to care.
The surrounding starry river was too vast and too silent.
After a while, she looked up at the man beside her, who shared similar features with her, and asked softly:
“Dad, when will Mom be able to come back?”
This question caused the smile on the man's face to fade slightly.
He withdrew his hand and turned his gaze toward the deep sea of stars in the distance. The starlight there seemed denser and more remote than anywhere else, harboring all his longing and his past.
“Soon.”
He answered after a long silence, his voice very soft, as if afraid of shattering this quietude.
“When ‘he’ successfully takes that step, the conditions for the ritual will be almost complete.”
The girl’s golden eyes reflected the starlight, as well as a trace of uncertainty.
“...Can it really succeed?”
The man turned back to look at his daughter again.
His gaze was calm and profound, encompassing everything like the starry river itself. The contours of those eyes—if someone were to look closely—would reveal an undeniable resemblance to a certain rural baron.
“Of course.”
He paused, and then said each word clearly:
“Because, he is me.”
After he spoke, a long silence fell between the two of them.
The starry river was silent, the light band was still, and time lost its meaning here.
The girl lowered her head, looking at her toes suspended above the sea of stars. Her expression didn't change, but the swinging of her legs slowly came to a halt.
She had heard this sentence many times.
Every time she heard it, she chose to believe.
Not because of logical deduction, not because of probability calculations, but because the person who said it was her father.
Nothing more.
After a long time, so long it felt as if a star had burned itself out, the man spoke again, breaking the silence.
“Do you want to go out one more time?”
The girl’s golden eyes, which were identical to Ophelia’s, were filled with pure confusion. She tilted her head, and her swinging legs began to move again.
“To do what?”
“To attend their wedding,” the man said with a gentle smile, throwing out an earth-shattering proposal.
“Eh?”
Even as the one called the All-Knowing, All-Powerful Sage, she was a bit dazed by this suggestion.
She blinked, trying to use her extraordinary logic to parse the sentence, but the result was a total blank.
Seeing his daughter’s rare look of being stunned, the man’s mood improved further, and he couldn't help but chuckle.
“This is something many children dream of but can never have.” He spoke persuasively, his tone hiding a hint of mischief identical to a certain someone. “Don't you think it would be very interesting to witness your own parents' wedding with your own eyes?”
Upon hearing this, the girl thought about it very seriously.
Then, she honestly raised her own question: “Why don't you go yourself, Dad?”
The smile on the man's face faded a bit, and he sighed, his gaze turning once more toward the distant sea of stars.
“It is never a good thing for a person who exists in the future to meet a self that still exists in the past.” He paused and added, “Even if the rules of this world allowed it, I wouldn't want to do it.”
After listening, the girl shook her head, and her slender calves began to swing rhythmically again.
“I really don't understand you adults' thoughts.”
“You're not a child anymore,” the man laughed.
To his surprise, the girl's reaction was unexpectedly large.
She whipped her head around and puffed out her cheeks. Her exquisite little face, which usually lacked expression, was now rarely filled with a bit of annoyance.
“I certainly still am!”
Her voice still didn't have much of a rise or fall, but every word was spoken with absolute certainty.
“I was in the past, I am now, and I always will be.”
The man was taken aback for a moment.
Then he smiled, a smile more genuine than any before. He raised his hand again, and this time without hesitation, he gently ruffled the girl's hair.
“Alright,” he said. “Always.”
The girl did not dodge.
She lowered her head slightly, letting her father's palm rest steadily on her head. Starlight flowed through her golden hair like a gentle stream.
After a moment of silence, she spoke, her voice so light it was almost swallowed by the starry river:
“...That wedding.”
“Mhm?”
“I’ll go.”
She looked up, her golden eyes filled with stars and a very serious decision.
“I want to see what Mom looks like in a wedding dress.”
The man did not answer.
He simply looked at his daughter, the light in his eyes brighter than the entire starry river behind him.
...
...
Inside Lillian's Sewing House.
The afternoon sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, casting a patchwork of colorful shadows on the wooden floor.
The small brass bell hanging on the door let out a crisp chime.
Lillian Miller was at her workbench, her fingertips holding a tiny silver needle. Hearing the sound, her entire body shrank back like a startled lop-eared rabbit. The white silk thread threaded through the needle's tip traced a faint arc in the air, hanging precariously at the edge of a half-finished neckline.
She looked up and saw Klein and Ophelia walking through the door. She nervously hid her hands behind her back, her cheeks quickly flushing red.
“Good afternoon, Miss Lillian,” Klein said with a gentle smile, being the first to break the silence in the room. “We’re here to try on the wedding dress.”
“Ah... o-okay.” Lillian's voice was as quiet as a mosquito's hum. She stole a quick glance at Ophelia beside Klein and then immediately lowered her head, her gaze falling on her own shoes. “I-it’s already prepared.”
She trotted to the inner room and with some effort pushed out a dress form. The wooden rollers rumbled against the floor, sounding exceptionally clear in the quiet little shop.
On the dress form was the very wedding dress custom-made for Ophelia.
There was no complex lace, nor was there an exaggerated petticoat.
The high-neck design was conservative and elegant, the long sleeves were snug against the arms, and the simple straight skirt cascaded down like moonlight. The excellent drape of the fabric gave the entire garment incredibly smooth lines.
It stood there quietly, looking less like a piece of clothing and more like a work of art that had been poured with someone's entire heart and soul.
Ophelia’s gaze fell on the wedding dress, and a ripple of emotion finally appeared in her usually calm golden eyes.
She stepped closer and lightly brushed her fingertips against the edge of the cuff—the stitching there was fine and even, the stitches so small they were almost invisible. Only an expert could appreciate the level of skill involved.
And the length of the sleeves was just right to cover the back of the hand.
Ophelia’s fingers paused for a moment at that spot.
She said nothing, but her gaze toward Lillian softened significantly.
“It’s very beautiful,” she praised sincerely.
Lillian’s face turned even redder upon receiving the compliment, but her eyes shone with the confidence and brilliance unique to a craftsperson. She kept her head down, her lips moving as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, she only nodded vigorously.
“Y-you... please go try it on.” She pointed toward a corner hung with a heavy curtain.
Ophelia nodded and carefully took the wedding dress off the dress form—her movements were gentler than they were with any precious suit of armor—and stepped into the fitting room.
The curtain fell, separating two worlds.
While waiting, Klein sat down on a low stool.
He heard the rustling sound of fabric rubbing together from behind the curtain, along with Ophelia’s occasional, very low breaths.
Lillian, on the other hand, was restless. Her hands twisted the straps of her apron, and she glanced toward the fitting room from time to time, looking even more nervous than the bride herself.
“Miss Lillian,” Klein suddenly spoke.
“Ah?” Lillian was startled.
“Your skill is already close to surpassing your mother’s.” Klein’s tone was very sincere as he thought of that equally gentle and kind woman, feeling a sense of poignancy in his heart. He looked at the girl before him, who always kept her shoulders hunched and was afraid to speak loudly, and said seriously, “Thank you for making such a wonderful gift for us.”
This sudden praise caused the girl’s mind to completely stall.
She opened her mouth, and after a long time, she only managed to squeeze out one word: “Mhm...”
Then, feeling that this answer was too perfunctory, she added with a flushed face, “T-that... I’m also very happy to be able to make this for you and Miss Ophelia...”
Before she could finish, the curtain of the fitting room was pulled open with a whoosh.
All unfinished words and all redundant sounds vanished at this moment.
Like a lake surface brushed by a breeze, ripples spread out layer by layer, eventually turning into a deep, bottomless silence and awe.
Time seemed to be infinitely stretched out in this instant.
Klein couldn't hear Lillian's sharp intake of breath, nor could he feel the dust floating in the air.
In his entire world, there was only that person standing in the light.
Ophelia stood there.
The wedding dress fit her figure perfectly, outlining her slender yet resilient curves.
The conservative high-neck design, far from concealing her beauty, acted like the most exquisite frame, drawing everyone’s gaze toward her heroic and refined face, making her neck appear even more slender, like a proud and holy white swan.
The moonlight-like skirt lay quietly on the floor, and the long cuffs perfectly covered the back of her hands—including her left hand, which she always consciously or unconsciously hid, the one corrupted by the sea monsters' power.
Those former scars and hidden worries were now enveloped and accepted in the most gentle way.
The afternoon light shone in from outside the window, passing through the stained glass and plating her with a soft golden edge; even the tips of her hair seemed to be shimmering.
Klein didn't speak.
He stood in place, just looking at her, unmoving.
Ophelia was not used to this unfamiliar attire. She shifted her shoulders slightly uncomfortably, and her pale fingertips unconsciously pinched the side seam of the skirt, as if trying to find a point of support.
She looked up at Klein. Her golden eyes, which were always filled with calm and confidence, were now like molten gold, carrying a hint of a question she hadn't even noticed herself, and... a tension that was almost overflowing.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
He still didn't speak.
This caused Ophelia’s heart rate to suddenly accelerate to a dangerous frequency.
She felt extremely self-conscious under his gaze, her heart beating so fast it felt like it would jump out of her throat. She was the first to speak to break the suffocating silence: “What is it? Does it not fit?”
Only then did Klein seem to return from some sort of daze.
He shook his head and walked toward her.
One step, two steps.
Every step felt like it was treading on his own heartbeat, heavy and powerful.
He stopped in front of her.
Very close, close enough to see a speck of light caught on her eyelashes.
He didn't speak immediately but looked at her quietly for a few seconds—during those seconds, the imperial knight’s earlobes turned red at a speed visible to the naked eye.
Then, he reached out his hand.
He didn't touch the holy wedding dress.
His fingertips gently brushed a stray golden hair from Ophelia’s temple, tucking it behind her ear. As his finger passed over her ear, it brushed against that small patch of skin that was slightly flushed from tension and shyness.
The touch was warm and soft, like the finest velvet.
“I was just thinking,” his voice was very low, low enough that only the person in front of him could hear.
“People always say I’m lucky. It seems that isn't just an unfounded rumor.”
He tilted his head slightly, his gaze falling on her reddened ear tip, and smiled.
“To have such a beautiful wife, I must have accumulated quite a lot of good fortune in my past lives.”
Ophelia’s face turned completely red in an instant.
From her cheeks all the way down to her neck, even the area near her collarbones hidden by the high-neck wedding dress was likely a shade of crimson.
She glared at Klein, but that look held no lethality. Instead, because of the thick blush on her face and the shimmer in her eyes, it appeared somewhat... bashfully adorable.
Beside them, Lillian had already tactfully turned around, pretending to organize the needle box on her workbench, but her trembling shoulders betrayed the fact that she was desperately trying to hold back a laugh.
“It fits very well,” Ophelia said to Lillian’s back, suddenly turning her head away, not daring to look into Klein’s eyes, which felt like they could pull someone in.
She tried to restore her usual calm tone, but it carried an undetectable tremor.
“Thank you, Miss Lillian. I like it very much.”
Only then did Lillian turn around, as if waking from a dream, waving her hands hurriedly with her face flushed, though it was unclear if it was from shyness or excitement. “No, no need to thank me... If you like it, that... that is the greatest affirmation for me!”
Ophelia gave a slight nod.
The afternoon sun passed through the glass, casting a warm and colorful light.
Outside the window, the street was as peaceful and serene as usual.
The sound of church bells came from the distance, neither fast nor slow.
It was as if they were ringing an early overture for a certain approaching day.
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