Chapter Seventy-One

"Wait, listen to me—ah—" Before Shadowmoon could finish her words, Arthur pressed her down onto the seat.

Arthur gazed at Shadowmoon intently, his eyes flickering with a thousand emotions. After a long while, he reached out his right hand—slender, calloused fingers gently caressing her cheek.

Shadowmoon looked into Arthur’s eyes, and the loneliness hidden deep within them struck her heart, making her eyes sting.

"Tell me, what happened to us?" Arthur’s murmured lament drifted to Shadowmoon’s ears, and instantly, heartbreaking memories flashed through her mind.

—Memory—

"The wedding is about to begin, miss. Please change into your gown quickly." The lady-in-waiting spoke respectfully, her face expressionless, to a young girl.

Indeed, the bride-to-be, the "miss" the maid referred to, was none other than a girl who had just turned sixteen today.

The girl rose slowly, like a lifeless puppet, picked up the ornate wedding dress, and walked into the fitting room. The maid watched her approach, lips curling in disdain, but said nothing more.

Inside the fitting room, the girl mechanically slipped into the gown, zipped it up at the back, and slowly lifted her head. Her face was delicate, barely larger than a palm, and her violet eyes were breathtakingly beautiful—almost fairy-like, capable of enchanting souls. Yet now, those eyes, which should have been bright, were dim, hollow, devoid of any spark.

Shadowmoon did not linger after putting on the dress; she stepped out and sat on a nearby chair, waiting for the makeup artist’s touch.

The makeup artist’s hands moved swiftly, like a magician’s wand—skin softener, moisturizer, foundation, eyeshadow, eyeliner, more eyeshadow, mascara, lip gloss—a flurry of steps completed in less than half an hour. Truly, skill speaks for itself. Why else would Rivers have invited her here?

"Tsk tsk, youth really is the symbol of beauty. Just look at this face—so tender you could squeeze water from it, fair and delicate. Saved so much on cosmetics, not to mention time."

"Oh, but if it weren’t for Master Joey’s golden touch, how could rough stone ever turn to gold?"

The maid beside her offered a dignified compliment, and sure enough, Master Joey’s eyes crinkled with a delighted smile.

"No wonder the Rivers family is so renowned—they certainly know how to talk."

Their conversation echoed in her ears, but Shadowmoon, sitting among them, remained detached, as if none of it concerned her.

Until—

"Young master has returned!" A maid, disregarding propriety, rushed in and interrupted their conversation, shattering the tranquility of Shadowmoon’s heart.

Shadowmoon’s head snapped up; her fingers clenched tightly, gripping her skirt as she struggled to restrain herself from leaping up and running out. Yet her tightly pressed lips betrayed a hint of her feelings.

"Ah, is that so? Has young master Arthur returned? How wonderful."

"Indeed, the master will surely be pleased."

"I’ve long heard of young master Rivers’ fame—today is a rare opportunity not to be missed," Joey said, following the maid out.

Everyone overlooked the one person still sitting in the chair—the bride-to-be, Blue Shadowmoon.

The sound of hurried footsteps faded into the distance, leaving the room in silence.

A breeze stirred, and the pale lavender curtains fluttered. Suddenly, darkness fell across Shadowmoon’s gaze—a figure appeared before her.

Shadowmoon looked up at the person who had suddenly appeared, and smiled.

"You’re back."