Before the first lanterns fully ascended—
Shura vanished.
No warning.
No explanation.
Ren noticed immediately.
"…He's about to do something stupid."
Orin didn't answer.
Because he already knew.
The Flower
Shura returned from a side stall, moving far less confidently than usual.
In his hand—
A circlet woven from fresh stems.
At its center:
A single white flower.
Small.
Round.
Almost luminous under the lantern glow.
He stopped in front of Yura.
"…Here."
She blinked.
"For me?"
He nodded once.
A little too stiff.
"How did you know I love this flower?" she asked softly.
Shura froze.
"I— I didn't. I just… saw it."
Lantern light reflected in her eyes.
He swallowed.
"…It suited you."
His ears turned red.
A few beats of silence.
Then—
Yura smiled.
Not wide.
Not teasing.
Just warm.
"Then I'll treasure it."
She lifted the circlet gently and placed it in her hair.
The white flower caught the golden light.
For a second—
The festival noise faded for Shura.
Zenkyou folded her arms.
….
Ren smirked faintly.
Orin looked away — pretending not to notice.
But he did.
He noticed everything.
Emma
"Shura," Orin said brightly, as if something inside him had suddenly lit up.
"This is Emma."
Shura turned.
Smiled.
"Nice to meet y—"
He stopped.
There was no one beside Orin.
Only empty space.
Lantern light.
Moving shadows.
Nothing else.
Shura blinked.
Ren moved instantly — covering his mouth.
"Wow, Shura," Ren said loudly. "Go enjoy the festival instead of staring at nothing."
He dragged him aside.
Shura pulled his hand away.
"What was that?"
Ren didn't look at him.
His voice lowered.
"Emma doesn't exist."
The words were steady.
Too steady.
"I don't know what happened," Ren continued quietly.
"Maybe she's gone. Maybe something erased her. I don't know."
Shura's chest tightened.
"But Orin still sees her."
Across the way, Orin was speaking softly to empty air.
Laughing gently.
Like someone was answering.
"Don't tell him," Ren said firmly.
"Don't even suggest it."
Shura looked back at Orin.
For the first time—
He didn't look cool.
He looked fragile.
Zenkyou
"Hey," Shura said quickly, turning away from that thought.
"What's with the headache?"
Zenkyou pressed two fingers lightly to her temple.
Too many signatures. Too many currents. Too many eyes.
The festival wasn't just celebration.
It was a convergence.
She forced a smile.
"Nothing."
Shura grinned.
"Ohhh. So you are human."
Her eye twitched.
Her hand lifted slightly.
Shura jumped back instantly.
"WAIT WAIT WAIT—"
Master Juro Arrives
"Heyyy."
The voice was gentle.
Master Juro approached.
Beside him—
A young girl .
Small.
Quiet.
Held carefully.
Yura tilted her head.
"Master… who is she?"
Juro answered simply.
"My daughter."
Ren froze.
Shura choked.
Yura blinked.
"…What?"
"It's a long story," Juro said calmly.
Yura looked closer.
"Why are you holding her like that?"
Juro's expression softened.
"She suffers from paralysis."
The festival noise seemed to dull around them.
Not gone.
Just distant.
Yua's eyes reflected the lantern light.
Bright.
Unblinking.
The Music Begins
Firecrackers burst.
Lanterns lifted.
Golden light spread across the lake like liquid sun.
Drums rolled.
And then—
A flute.
The first note rose above the crowd.
Clean.
Controlled.
Precise.
Across the noble balcony—
Jiyan turned very slowly.
Dante felt it instantly.
"…Don't."
Jiyan leaned closer.
"Ah yes. The legendary flute."
Dante did not look at him.
"It's an instrument."
"Not one capable of destabilizing civilizations?"
Several nobles coughed awkwardly.
Dante grabbed his collar gently.
"If you finish that sentence," she said sweetly,
"I'll demonstrate population reduction."
Jiyan smiled.
"So violent."
But when the melody softened—
He didn't tease again.
Because Dante wasn't angry anymore.
She was remembering something.
And for once—
Jiyan respected that silence.
The Dancers
In the center of the lake—
Two masked figures stepped forward.
Elegant.
Concealed.
They walked.
On water.
No platform.
No distortion.
Just ripples of golden light beneath each step.
They began to dance.
Slow at first.
Then seamless.
Synchronized.
Each movement mirrored like two halves of the same soul.
Couples in the crowd instinctively stepped closer together.
Some blushed.
Some held hands.
Even the guards forgot to scan rooftops.
Shura leaned toward Juro.
"Master… how are they walking on water?"
Juro didn't look away.
"You've never heard of enjoying something without dissecting it?"
Ren burst out laughing.
Yura covered her mouth.
Shura deflated.
"…Fine."
Yua
Yua's eyes shimmered.
Tears formed.
Not from pain.
Not from confusion.
From joy.
Juro knelt slightly.
"I can't hear your words," he whispered.
"But I'm glad you're happy."
Her fingers tightened around his sleeve.
Zenkyou watched the lake.
"…For once," she murmured,
"nothing feels dangerous."
Ren exhaled.
Even Beast loosened his stance.
For one fragile night—
No one was fighting.
Orin's Bow
Orin stepped forward.
"Shura."
Shura looked at him immediately.
"You were asking about my fighting style."
Shura nodded eagerly.
"Yes!"
Orin smiled.
He lifted his bow.
Slowly.
Carefully.
The string tightened.
The arrow aligned with the sky.
Shura's excitement faltered.
"…You're just shooting it up?"
Orin didn't answer.
He released.
The arrow vanished into the artificial ceiling.
For one second—
Nothing.
Then—
A sound.
Like glass cracking.
The black vault above them fractured.
Light bled through.
Not gold.
Not artificial.
Deep.
Endless.
Midnight blue.
Stars.
Real stars.
The ceiling shattered open in silence.
The entire festival gasped.
Above them—
The Surface sky.
Scattered constellations.
A pale moon drifting quietly.
Zenkyou stared upward.
Ren didn't blink.
Yura's breath caught.
Yua's tears fell freely.
Shura trembled.
"…How do you know about that?"
Orin lowered his bow.
"I don't."
He looked at the sky.
"I just missed it."
No one laughed.
No one spoke.
Couples leaned into each other.
The dancers slowed.
Even the flute quieted.
For a moment—
The underground world remembered the sky.
And it remembered what it had lost.
Pure silence.