"Young master, did you call for me?"

After a knock on the door, the Governor opened it, and the old Demon Race butler entered the room respectfully.

"Yes, could you help escort this Half-Demon young lady home?"

The Governor pointed towards the chair, instructing the butler.

"..."

The butler followed the Governor's finger, looking towards the vintage leather chair.

He paused for a moment, then looked back at the young master Governor, staring into his eyes.

"I'm afraid I can't help, young master."

The butler responded with a bow of regret, his eyes carrying a hint of concern, sadness, and helplessness.

"Forget it."

The Governor shook his head upon seeing the butler's somewhat foolishly caring gaze, knowing that the butler couldn't accomplish anything. It was impossible to move the young lady, so he allowed the butler to leave.

The butler's conveyed attitude was very clear, even the attitude of their family was firm — he had to marry this fiancée as soon as possible.

"Young master, don't you feel that the room is slightly cold?"

The butler felt like he could see his breath in the room, despite the presence of a fireplace, it seemed colder than outside.

"It's winter, that's quite normal."

The Demon Race Governor stood by the door panel, saying so without any concern.

"Very well, I shall take my leave then."

The butler bowed slightly and withdrew.

A few seconds later, only the Demon Race Governor and the Half-Witch Lady remained in the bedroom.

"..."

The Half-Witch Lady gazed at the Demon Race Governor, a trace of sadness and guilt flashing in her eyes.

She seemed not to want to make things so difficult for him.

Finally, she stood up in compromise, watching the Governor intently.

"I hope you can solve the mystery of who cursed you, causing you to keep forgetting me."

The brass floor lamp beside her, she said,

"When the time comes, even if you still can't remember me, I will persuade my family not to let you suffer from this engagement any longer."

The lampshade was decorated with small ghosts from the Demon Race's purgatory, chasing each other as if reflected by the solitary light and shadow on the wall.

...

In the audience seating.

Antanas and Sinola leisurely leaned back in their chairs, eating snacks, their eyes focused on the stage performance.

"Any changes?"

Antanas had never read the original work, so he couldn't notice much difference.

"Not really, seems only some details changed, Lanci and Hyperion's performances haven't changed too."

Sinola was also looking for differences.

Up to now, the plot had only seen minor changes.

For example, the butler previously didn't have so many lines at the opening.

"It's alright Antanas, even if we've read the original work, we wouldn't know how the plot will be performed later, so just watch, you'll understand it."

Sinola explained to Antanas.

"Since Abigail tailored the script specifically for them, that means Abigail believes they will perform well."

The two of them quietly chatted while calmly enjoying the show.

After a little over ten minutes, the first act came to an end.

The stage scene shifted, the Demon Race Governor had already spoken with the butler, and, taking the Half-Witch, embarked on a journey to the Demon Academy, the very place the Half-Witch insisted they had shared memories together.

The corridors of the Demon Academy appeared classical yet luxurious, dimly lit and imbued with the scent of ancient wood, wrapped in a magical aura of times past. The end of the distant path seemed perpetually swallowed by darkness, filled only with unfathomable mystery.

It was in this corridor that music of unknown origin echoed in the spacious hallways, intermingled with melodies of weeping, swirling around the Governor and the Half-Witch, like the overture of a chase and flight being played.

Even though the spectacle of the Demon Academy might seem slightly eerie and bizarre to human audiences, Lanci and Hyperion on stage remained calm, as if they were naturally demons, unfazed by any threat this school might pose.

"Do you say this place can awaken my memories?"

The Governor asked the Half-Witch, doubtful.

He agreed to come only to stop her from bothering him further, still skeptical about her claim that "someone cursed him so he would lose memories of her."

He was convinced he didn't even know the Half-Witch, so how could they have attended school together here, let alone him ever having liked her?

The dark marble floor was adorned with golden patterns, the two of them stood on a carpet with demon flower designs, before a door.

The surrounding walls were filled with eerie portraits and mirrors, as if observing the students on the path.

"Yes."

The Half-Witch nodded firmly and triumphantly.

"But there are no photos of us here, how can you prove we came to this music classroom together?"

The Governor asked the Half-Witch, staring at the large classroom labeled as the music subject.

"Look, the music classroom is full of ghosts."

The Half-Witch just shook her head, using magic akin to psychic power to open the sealed classroom door.

When the classroom's projection appeared on stage, the internal scene flooded into the audience's view; compared to a tiered classroom, it instead resembled a grand opera house.

Ornate chandeliers, plush velvet seats, and that solemn stage, all were reminiscent of the Ikelite Opera House's reflection.

At the same moment, the air became overwhelmingly oppressive, almost suffocating, with the corridor's temperature rapidly dropping due to the presence of spectral energy, echoing with blood-curdling laments in the sealed-off scene.

As if from another dimension, innumerable illusory figures appeared, their silhouettes overlapping, indistinguishable, like a choir, with the relentless echoing sound causing even the Half-Witch to cover her ears.