"Dunkirk, what do you think of this man?"

Paris, with one hand on their chin, eyeing Baïmon malevolently like a hungry wolf sizing up its prey, transmitted their thoughts to Dunkirk using a messaging spell.

"What do I think... just hurry up and get rid of him."

As Dunkirk finally saw Baïmon's handsome face glistening with charm, even behind the backdrop, they couldn't hide their blush, their face flushing red in an instant.

It must be said that this child Merka, had indeed inherited a fair share of beauty from his parents, as evident in his father.

For someone like Dunkirk, a mature and handsome gentleman at this level posed quite a threat, especially for a maiden who had never held a boy's hand even at her age -- the impact was undeniably strong, almost to the point of instant charm, a deadly allure that could slay singles or doubles.

"If you keep gossiping like this, it won't be good if he overhears."

"At the very least... send a few people to escort him. Lady Maria's orders must be followed without fail. Keeping him here indefinitely is no solution either."

Dunkirk's transmission reached Paris' ears like a tiny whisper of a mosquito.

"Don't be silly, he's not a magic user, how would he see through your disguise, let alone hear us talking."

"But your way of speaking... hmm?"

Detecting a softer tone from Dunkirk, Paris suddenly became intrigued.

"This doesn't seem right, you weren't speaking in this tone just now."

"Besides, you must be quite familiar with him. If anyone is to escort him, it should be you."

"In the past, weren't you responsible for Merka's matters? You had quite a bit of interaction with him then."

Paris kept pressing, completely disregarding how embarrassed Dunkirk must have been in the shadows.

"But that was... I only exchanged a few letters and met him once or twice... I really don't know him that well."

"His partner passed away a long time ago, and I have been single for so many years. If I continue to interact with him so casually, it might not be good for his reputation, right?"

"You should go and persuade him to leave, Maria's orders must be strictly followed."

Hearing Dunkirk's firm command, Paris was at a loss for words.

"Oh?"

"I can go... but is this really the right thing to do?"

"Rules are dead, people are alive. Lady Maria's rule prohibits outsiders from entering Polis City just to prevent any spies from colluding inside the city."

"But we know Professor Baïmon, what could he have that's suspicious in the background?"

"He hasn't seen Merka for almost a decade. And this concert, for both Professor Baïmon and Merka, is a golden opportunity."

"Perhaps with this chance, Merka and his father can reconcile, who knows?"

"Don't you wish for Merka, who was abandoned in his childhood, to one day rediscover the missing affection from his father?"

"What do you think?"

"But...”

Seeing Dunkirk starting to waver, Paris quickly stoked the flames, adding fuel to the fire, afraid Dunkirk might change their mind at any moment.

"Oh, I know, you're worried he's using a backdrop for deception."

"But haven't you forgotten? Lady Maria has stationed at least several thousand guards at every entrance to Polis City, continuously observing the outside world."

Each of them had mastered various information about Oedipus and Beelzebub. With so many vantage points, even Oedipus and Beelzebub themselves would absolutely not be able to sustain the magical consumption of the backdrop.

"So, the two of them definitely cannot transform into any form and sneak into Wave City."

"And if it's an angel other than the two of them who wants to sneak into Wave City, we are not afraid at all."

"I will follow Professor Baimon all the way when he enters Wave City, and of course, you will too."

Apart from Oedipus and Beelzebub, any angel cannot stir up any trouble under our watch, so you can rest assured."

"Besides, I am confident that with just one concert’s worth of time, I can help you win over this man. Doesn't that excite you?"

"Ah, is it true?"

The last words of Paris the Romance Expert, bent the once hard as stone flower in Dunkirk's heart.

She stretched her neck and looked at Professor Baimon, who was not far away, with a look of confusion, a man who seemed to exude a perennially unchanged gloom between his brows—the enlarged version of Merka, no matter how you looked at it, made Dunkirk feel joyful.

"Just a small fry of a widow, a piece of cake."

Paris gave a thumbs-up and confidently assured Dunkirk in a light-hearted tone.

Could it be that my spring is really coming?

Dunkirk couldn't help but lick her lips, thinking sweetly.