"Wait, I think Merka is calling me," Turing suddenly said. She gazed into the distance and saw Merka emerging from the huge cathedral in the city center. He was dressed in white, the white military uniform making him appear ethereal like a crane by the water, untouched by worldly affairs. The cavalier-style hat was held lightly in his hand, the jade locks symbolizing his ultimate mage status hanging from either side of his cloak.
This man was looking exceptionally handsome today, reaching a level that Curseborn should never have achieved. There was no masculine aggressiveness or fire in his eyes, but a clear and gentle aura flowed from them, as soothing as the mild scent of jujubes.
It was a different Merka from the day Turing first met him. The boy's eyes were no longer filled with captivating chaos and sentimental tenderness, but with anticipation for the future. Waving towards Turing, Merka smiled gently.
"You should go then."
"Today is an important day in this boy's life—one that can be counted on one hand."
"Perhaps he wants to confess something to you."
Dunkirk rarelу dropped hints, almost as if she knew something, a slight smirk playing on her lips as she affectionately ruffled Turing's hair.
Raising an eyebrow, Turing gave Dunkirk an indifferent glance. "I'll be off then." "I'm preparing dinner today," she continued. "It may not be as delicious as Merka's, but Dunkirk, sister, put work aside and come back for dinner." "I will make Merka's celebratory feast grand."
Seeing Dunkirk's understanding smile, Turing nodded. She spread her two dark raven-like wings and soared into the distance towards the cathedral. The kilometer distance vanished in an instant beneath Turing's windswept wings, and after a few breaths, she landed steadily on the stone roof of the cathedral, quietly slipping in through the window.
As Turing landed on the ground, she noticed that besides Maria sitting with a smiling face near the prayer stand, only Merka was standing inside the vast cathedral. Upon Turing's arrival, Merka closed the cathedral doors, keeping the bustling crowd outside.
"Turing."
"How do I look in this outfit? Handsome, right?" Merka twirled the cloak symbolically in front of Turing. The childlike action and seeking approval words made Turing couldn't help but smile. She joyfully threw herself into Merka's arms, tugging at his swaying cloak and sniffing the youthful scent on it with all her might.
"You look stunning... always stunning!"
"Anything you wear looks gorgeous."
"You are my pride!"
"Hehe."
Having received the answer she wanted in her heart, Merka was a bit at a loss. Embarrassedly laughing, he hugged the petite Turing, wrapping his hands around her shoulders, gently twirling her around himself in the air for a dance.
"Don't mess around..."
"Maria is watching."
Turing glanced at Maria, who was trying hard not to laugh in the corner, and roughly pinched Merka's waist.
"Alright—alright."
"No more fooling around."
"Look at this."
Merka, as if performing magic, produced a bunch of flowers out of nowhere. The pure white flowers were still in bud, held lovingly in front of Turing.
"Amaryllis...? It's actually white Amaryllis."
"But it hasn't fully bloomed yet."
"What's wrong with this flower?"
Turing asked Merka in confusion.
"The type of flower doesn't matter. What's important is that this flower was just placed on Lady Maria."
"Do you remember, Prince An?"
"Her biggest dream when she was alive was to get a job at the Agio family."
"Let's use this bouquet of flowers to commemorate her grave."
"Prince An doesn't even have a grave yet. If she doesn't even have a place to be remembered from now on, it would be too pitiful."
After listening to Merka, Turing gazed absentmindedly at the Amaryllis that had not fully bloomed. She suddenly had a feeling, as if this flower was remarkably similar to the strong and simple Prince An.
Cut off before fully blooming, just like Prince An, even if it exuded a sweet fragrance, it couldn't escape the fate of death.
After several years, the deep regret and sorrow over Prince An's death finally arrived late in Turing's narrow heart.
Turing took the Amaryllis from Merka's hand and gently sniffed it under her nose. The sense of guilt and grief mixed with the Red Port accent of Prince An from the past seemed to be hidden in the scent of this Amaryllis, penetrating into Turing's dreams like fierce iron and chilling rivers.
