Don't confiscate my identity as a human race

Perhaps what Lanci hoped for was that she would remain silent like a nonexistent phantom at this moment.

The lines in her prompter should have been almost finished by now, but since she no longer followed the script, she just quietly watched the words drift away in her view, turning a blind eye.

In a little while, perhaps she should also exit the stage, as this play will draw its final curtain.

Even so, she still believes in Lanci.

"We are certain we can find our place among the stars."

The eyes of the Demon Race Governor gradually became hazy,

"If we pursue the past, we can only sink into illusions."

As he finished speaking, he seemed about to succumb to the pull of the god of sleep,

"But while I am still awake, I want to savor every minute and second."

Lanci placed one hand over her chest, and with the other hand slowly reached for the Half-Witch's cheek again, yet seemed never able to reach her side.

The melody in the orchestra pit began to rush and intensify, wave after wave, as if telling the story of the characters' inner turmoil and unspeakable longing.

"Before twilight falls, and the twilight separates you and me."

"Before tonight ends."

"Before memories begin to fade."

The Demon Race Governor's words to the Half-Witch seemed like a prayer to the gods in the Temple.

"I just wish to forever hold onto these nights like a lucid dream."

Tick-tock, the gears of the church clock tower turned.

About to toll the evening chime.

At the moment when the twilight bell rang, the Half-Witch still quietly sat beside him, but she would no longer speak, like turning into a statue.

"Regardless of the truth, I have long been enchanted by you."

His eyes, like a springtime lake, carried a gentle light, admitting his love for the Half-Witch.

And in the bright pupils of the Half-Witch's reflection in his eyes, at this moment, they finally dimmed, like an illusion dissipating, the light in her eyes ceasing to exist.

When the melancholy seemed like it could no longer escalate, the music slowly calmed down.

The melody became soothing and gentle, like a ray of sunlight penetrating the gloom, illuminating the soul.

The farewell tune subtly emerged, intertwining with the main melody, symbolizing the arrival of hope and redemption in the world.

The swaying, ever-changing notes, like a flicker of candlelight in the darkness, revealed an inner glimmer.

The Governor had nothing more to say.

The earlier words were his last.

The Governor lowered his eyes, finally unable to resist sleepiness.

He relished the warm spring sunlight, much like her lively companionship, which fell upon him, causing him to continually forget past sorrows.

And so, he lay down, falling into a dreamlike sleep.

Even at the end, the Half-Witch only sat beside him, watching over him like a wife.

The piece concluded with a quiet, ethereal coda, its echoes lingering long.

The distant melody seemed to whisper, pray, and gaze, pondering questions that may forever remain unanswered, but the power of love will eventually awaken everything.

The last note sounded and silently faded away, leaving lingering feelings in the heart.

Thus, the performance finally closed its curtains.

Outside the stage scene, under the starry dome of the theater.

"..."

Abigail gazed at the curtain, her face reflecting the stage's shifting light and shadows.

The panoramic sound system echoed the Demon Race Governor's heartbeat and the Half-Witch Lady's voice in the space.

Suddenly, the theater's lighting awoke her, bringing her back to her senses.

At this moment, the magnificent lights fell like stars, illuminating the entire musical hall, turning it into a dreamlike universe.

Looking again at the empty grand opera house theater hall, Abigail leaned back in her chair, relaxed, gazing up at the sky, pondering the ending created by Lanci.

This abrupt closure, veiled confession, silent companionship, compared to comedy, seemed more like an open-ended conclusion.

It was perhaps the safest closing approach, rounding it out in front.

But looking at it currently, today's performance was a complete failure.

Because the mystery was not unveiled, and by the end, the audience still did not know why the Governor could not recall the Half-Witch, as if watching an incomplete suspense play, with the mystery entirely glossed over, lacking the most crucial reveal reversal.

Even if the audience's perception as a comedy might be fine, it did not achieve the effect she initially planned, and was completely at odds with the theme the promotional music wanted to express.

When critics finish watching today's public broadcast, they will discover the conflict between the performance and the promotional trailer, and its extremely failed point of contradiction.

"Headache."

Abigail covered her forehead.

If not for the flaw in the promotional trailer, the ending with Lanci and Tata's heartfelt performance was actually quite atmospheric, with a feeling of silent mutual listening and companionship.

Lanci's dedicated performance at the end, not knowing for what, even gave Abigail the illusion that Lanci had a backup plan, making her not understand the lines he said to the Half-Witch at the end revolving around the theme of "lucid dream," and what exactly it meant.

Now, she could only grit her teeth and adjust tomorrow's second performance's script to be the same comedy as today's.

Wait.

"Seems like there's no need to change."

Abigail widened her eyes.

She grasped Lanci's intention.

If—

Today's performance with Lanci and Tata is called version A.

Tomorrow's Sunday audience will watch another version performed by Lanci and Hyperion, the one that reveals the Half-Witch as a phantom, called version B.

The audience will then discover that if the story from the first day and the story from the second day are combined, it represents that the first version performed today is nothing but a sweet dream in the Governor's perspective.