"Do you know I once caused all this single-handedly?"

The Demon Race Governor looked at the classroom, resonating with the sound of hell, completely indifferent to the Half-Witch, feeling neither discomfort nor fear.

The ghosts, upon seeing him, were filled with fear and dared not disturb him.

"Yes, I was there at the time, so when they see me, they're scared of me too."

The Half-Witch took a step towards the classroom, and the ghosts instantly began to retreat, maintaining a fear for her equivalent to that of the Governor.

"..."

The Demon Race Governor frowned.

He seemed to have discovered the problem.

In his memory, the disaster in the music classroom was caused by himself alone, and since then, the classroom had been sealed. But judging from the reactions of the Demon Race ghosts inside, this Half-Witch also seemed to be an accomplice.

"These ghosts don't know they're dead, they just keep singing."

Miss Half-Witch spoke.

But their reactions must be real, the purest instincts and obsessions.

"Alright, I will initially believe you – I might have forgotten about you. But I still cannot entirely rule out the possibility that this is a trap, after all, I truly can't recall any memory of you. I will investigate with you until concrete evidence is found."

The Governor said to the Half-Witch.

"Let's walk the path we once walked again, and you'll see more of the traces we've left."

The Half-Witch smiled.

They explored the past within the Demon Clan School.

The scene gradually transitioned to the next act.

...

A cold wind swept across the stage.

This was not the biting cold of winter, but rather the fresh chill as if breathing atop a high mountain peak.

The scene shifted to the interior of a desolate and dilapidated castle.

This was the banquet hall on the first floor of the castle, yet it also had the appearance of an ancient Holy Temple.

In the projection, a magnificent pipe organ nearly several stories high occupied the entire back wall. Some pipes stood upright, others were curved, some glistened with golden light, while others bore a simple wooden hue, arranged in different shapes and levels, exuding an indescribable sacred and solemn atmosphere.

The stained glass dome, under the light turned on by the Governor, looked like a river of stars hanging down from the ceiling, illuminating the splendid dark stone-carved walls and floor.

In the most conspicuous position in the center of the grand hall was an imposing and spacious long table. The silver candlesticks had long since gone out, and the oak carved chairs on either side of the table stood in perfect order, unable to conceal the luxurious and intoxicating scent from years past, when glasses would clink amidst indulgent feasting.

"What is here?"

The Governor, hands in the pockets of his coat, exhaled a mist and aimlessly gazed at the place.

He remembered this location, yet could not recall any memories related to the Witch.

By this point, he was no longer surprised why the Witch knew he had been to this ancient castle.

She knew many things, so many that it felt as if she truly once knew him.

"Do you feel the curse in this castle? You can feel the discomfort as soon as you enter."

Miss Half-Witch asked the Governor.

This place was obviously far more dangerous than the Demon School, yet she wasn't afraid at all, entirely because the Governor was by her side, or perhaps because they had once been here, having endured through any peril and hardship, she was unafraid of any possible threats.

"Indeed, this is a cursed castle, why is the curse's formula so familiar..."

The Governor placed his hand on the tabletop, sensing it,

"Could it be that I am really under a curse, and unknowingly fell into such a spell?"

He muttered to himself.

Perhaps the curse was too familiar, and the harm not significant, which is why he had never detected it, until sensing other curses, realizing he might be under a similar type of curse.

"I knew with your aptitude, you'd definitely discern the curse on yourself, you just didn't believe it before."

The Half-Witch clasped her hands behind her back, bent slightly forward, and smiled gently.

"Sorry..."

The Demon Race Governor's weary eyes lowered.

His previous distrust of the Half-Witch seemed to have hurt someone who once truly knew him.

"It's alright, if you still can't remember me later, I won't cling to you, after all, I just want you to be happy every day."

Miss Half-Witch said cheerfully.

"..."

The Demon Race Governor did not respond to her.

He couldn't guarantee whether he could remember her, or if he truly couldn't, whether he could fulfill the marriage contract and marry her.

At this moment, he only felt guilty.

"Alright then, it's a mutual decision, let's not make it seem like anyone owes anyone else, it's better to carefully think about the clues to lift the curse. Only then can you remember me, right?"

The Half-Witch approached, raising her hand as if to gently caress the Demon Race Governor's cheek, but stopped just before touching and withdrew.

Their relationship at this moment was no longer what it once was, she didn't want the Demon Race Governor to feel compelled or troubled.

"The curse should be able to be lifted, there's no curse that can last so long, unless continuously exposed to environmental factors, or repeatedly cast."

The Governor nodded, mumbling.

"So?"

The Half-Witch asked him.

"It must be a Demon Race near us that cursed me, trying to sabotage our family's alliance. We can now narrow down our investigation range, perhaps we should return to the city now."

The Demon Race Governor replied confidently.

They finished searching for clues between the cliff-top castles and were ready to return.

Then they passed through many places, with the scene constantly shifting with the movement of curtains, mechanical systems, and projections.

This was a long journey.

It resembled a review of their lives.