Chapter 31: The Moon Is the Sun’s Dream

In the center of the dance floor, silver light and a dark green figure spun together in an intricate dance.

Abel’s gaze could not tear away from the face in front of him.

The girl’s pupils resembled clear lake water, reflecting the sparkling lights of the banquet hall as well as his own dazed expression.

He finally recalled the name that matched the appearance of the girl before him.

Euphelia.

The instant this name surfaced in his mind, long-sealed memories flooded in like a surging tide.

That year, when he was seven, he had accompanied his parents to Enkart City for a visit.

At the banquet in the earl’s mansion, his father had lightly patted his shoulder and pointed to the far side of the hall.

“See that silver-haired young lady? That’s Earl Enkart’s daughter, Euphelia. According to tradition, she will become the future wife of Marquis Noct.”

He remembered the scene.

Moonlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, bathing the silver-haired girl standing by the window in a hazy silver glow along her profile.

She seemed to notice the gaze, turned her head, and offered him a faint smile.

That smile had left the child he was then utterly entranced.

So beautiful.

Beautiful beyond anything mortal.

But that had been twelve years ago.

If the girl before him was truly Euphelia, she should be the same age as his older brother now—around twenty-seven or twenty-eight—and could not possibly still look like a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old girl.

“Who exactly are you?” Abel finally found his voice, his eyes locked on the silver-haired girl before him. “You… look very much like someone I know.”

The girl’s lips curved upward slightly, her smile carrying a hint of elusive slyness. “Like who?”

“Euphelia Enkart.” Abel spoke the name one word at a time.

The silver-haired girl’s dance steps did not pause for even a moment. With a gentle tug, she led Abel into a turn.

Her movements were elegant and fluid, while Abel appeared clumsy and stiff. 

If she had not been guiding him, he probably would have stepped on her feet countless times.

“Euphelia, huh…” she repeated the name softly, a complex emotion flashing through her silver eyes. “It’s a nice-sounding name.”

She neither admitted nor denied it.

“But the age doesn’t match.” Abel stared at her. “If you were Euphelia, you should be…”

“An old auntie by now?” The girl interrupted him, her tone playful. 

“That’s right. Twelve years really is a long time. Long enough to change certain things.”

Before he could think any further, the girl suddenly let out a soft “Ah!”—Abel’s foot had accidentally stepped on the tip of her shoe.

“Sorry!” Abel apologized in a panic, his cheeks burning.

“Your dancing skills are really bad.” The girl frowned slightly, but there was no genuine reproach in her eyes. 

“If I hadn’t been leading you, my instep would probably be swollen by now.”

“…Sorry.” Abel felt a bit embarrassed.

In these years he had traveled far and wide, learned swordsmanship, horsemanship, wilderness survival, and even how to find water in the desert—yet he had never learned to dance.

“It’s okay.” The girl smiled again. 

“More importantly, you should pay attention to your feet. Look, you’re about to step on them again—”

She tugged gently once more, and Abel staggered, narrowly avoiding it.

The subsequent dance felt like a dream to Abel.

The lights blurred into flowing bands of color as they spun, and the music seemed to come from a great distance.

In his eyes there was only that exquisite face, those beautiful clear eyes, and the faint fragrance that lingered at the tip of his nose—like moonlight, cool yet carrying a trace of warmth.

He felt like a puppet on strings, guided by those slender hands, drawing circles on the dance floor.

The surrounding guests, the envious stares, the noisy discussions… everything became distant and unreal.

Until the last note fell.

The dance music ended.

Abel woke as if from a dream.

The silver-haired girl released his hand, stepped back one pace, and performed a perfect curtsy toward him.

Her movements were so standard they seemed taken straight from an etiquette textbook, perfect like a dream.

“Thank you for your company, Young Master Abel.” She raised her head, her silver eyes gazing deeply into his.

The corners of her mouth held a gentle smile.

In that gaze were too many things Abel could not understand: nostalgia, expectation, sorrow…

“Wait!” Abel reached out a hand, wanting to grab something.

But the girl had already turned away.

Just then, several noble young ladies seized the opportunity and surrounded him.

“Young Master Abel! May I have the next dance with you?”

“Please do me the honor!”

“I as well…”

The silver-haired girl’s figure slipped into the crowd like a fish, a few clever turns and she vanished amid the sea of perfume and hair ornaments.

Abel’s heart tightened.

He could not let her leave just like that!

“Sorry, everyone, I…”

He pushed them away incoherently, his eyes anxiously searching the crowd for that silver figure.

Nothing.

She was nowhere to be seen.

“Make way!” He finally could not hold back, pushing aside the noble ladies around him, forcing his way through the crowd, and rushing out of the banquet hall.

He dashed down the red-carpeted corridor, pushed open the heavy carved wooden doors, and arrived at the terrace on the side of the royal palace.

The night wind was cool, dispersing the heat from his face and the clamor from the banquet hall.

The terrace was empty.

Only moonlight poured down like mercury, spreading a cold glow across the white marble floor.

Abel leaned against the railing, his chest heaving, breathing rapid.

He looked around—the garden, the fountain, the tree-lined paths… there was no sign of the silver-haired figure anywhere.

She was like true moonlight, stunning when she appeared, traceless when she vanished.

An inexplicable sense of loss gripped him.

His heart felt as if something had gently tugged at it, leaving it hollow.

“Abel?”

A familiar voice came from behind.

Abel spun around sharply, a flash of joy in his eyes—

Then the joy quickly faded into disappointment.

It was Julius.

The golden-haired older brother stood at the entrance to the terrace, a slender cigarette held between his fingers, the ember at the tip flickering in the night.

He wore a pure white formal suit, the collar casually open, a few strands of golden hair falling over his forehead, giving him a lazy and casual look.

“Big Brother?” Abel tried to steady his breathing. “What are you doing here?”

“I came out for some fresh air.” 

Julius walked closer, studying him under the moonlight. 

“What about you? Why did you run out? The banquet isn’t over yet.”

“I…” Abel hesitated for a moment, then asked anyway. 

“Big Brother, did you see a silver-haired girl just now? About this tall, wearing a white dress, with long silver hair…”

He gestured with his hands, his gaze urgent.

Julius narrowed his eyes slightly, the silver moonlight falling into his blue eyes, creating a subtle sheen.

“A silver-haired girl?” he repeated, shaking his head slowly. 

“No. I’ve been out here smoking the whole time and didn’t see anyone pass by.”

His tone was calm, almost deliberately so.

Abel did not notice this, lost in his disappointment. 

“She was in the banquet hall earlier… I danced with her… and then she disappeared.”

“Oh?” Julius raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth curving into an amused arc. 

“So my little brother has finally come to his senses? Met a girl he likes?”

As he spoke, Julius’s gaze fixed straight on Abel’s face, a faint hint of expectation in the depths of his eyes?

But Abel still did not notice.

“N-No, it’s not that!” Abel denied hastily, though his cheeks heated up involuntarily. 

“I just… thought she looked a lot like someone.”

“Like who?”

“…It’s nothing.” Abel swallowed the words at the tip of his tongue.

Saying “she looks like your deceased fiancée” in front of his big brother would be too strange.

Moreover, Euphelia must be a very important memory for his big brother.

Bringing it up rashly would be like reopening an old wound.

Julius gave him a deep look but did not press further.

He took a drag from his cigarette, exhaled slowly, and the smoke curled upward in the moonlight.

“Fate is a strange thing.” He suddenly said, his voice soft. 

“If you’re truly destined, you’ll meet again. Maybe… she’s just like Cinderella, and her magic time is up, so she had to leave?”

Abel gave a bitter smile. 

“But she didn’t leave a glass slipper either.”

“Maybe she left something else.” Julius said meaningfully. 

“You just haven’t noticed it yet.”

Abel was stunned for a moment.

Julius stubbed out the cigarette butt in the small ashtray he carried with him and patted his younger brother’s shoulder. 

“Let’s go back. There are still so many people waiting for you at the banquet, especially those young ladies—you leaving them hanging like that isn’t very gentlemanly.”

Abel sighed and nodded in resignation.

He took one last look at the empty terrace and garden, then turned to follow Julius back to the banquet hall.

Before stepping into the bright lights, he could not help but glance back—

The terrace under the moonlight remained empty.

Only the night wind rustled through the treetops.

And Julius, walking ahead, in the angle where Abel could not see, his eyes became extremely complex.