He would still worry about her.

Instead of fretting anxiously, it was better to stay by her side at all times.

Hannah didn’t refuse again, but suddenly asked him, "Do you still like me?"

They weren’t on Blue Star now.

They both had new identities.

So some things had to be asked again.

She lifted her head, her bangs slightly messy and fuzzy, resembling a cat that had just had its fur fluffed. 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

Arnold Simmons raised his hand to tidy her hair, as he had done in the past, a gentle smile on his lips, "Yes, I like you."

Her eyes curved as she smiled, filled with starlight and his presence, "Is it only liking?"

"It’s even more than liking," the man answered, gaze focused and intent.

In the profound night, there was one more star—her star.

And only her star.

The starlight was splendid, just like her smiling face.

The sunset fell, spreading a carpet of golden yellow.

Warm and soothing.

Hannah took his hand and walked into the sunset’s remaining light, "What’s more than liking?"

He responded, "It’s Hannah."

The familiar dialogue felt like a return to that morning on Blue Star.

Hannah corrected him, "You should call me Hannah."

In the stars, only very close people would call her "Hannah."

Like her mother and old friends.

Arnold Simmons turned to look at her, at the radiant and cheerful smile in her eyes, then whispered softly, "Yes, Hannah."

Hannah was pleased, holding his hand, looking up into his eyes.

Those were beautiful and familiar eyes.

No matter how much time passed, she would never forget.

In her first year on Blue Star, she had met the 24-year-old Arnold Simmons.

The 24-year-old Arnold Simmons was the major antagonist in a novel, a dangerous and indifferent emperor who looked down on the common crowd.

She had later dethroned him.

Like the passionately vibrant roses in an ancient manor blooming in abundance, endless indulgence.

But that was always in someone else’s story.

Only now, was it truly theirs, and theirs alone.

The current Arnold Simmons had a young man’s naivety and vigor, but also the intensity and tenderness that she loved the most.

No matter how long it had been, or how far the distance.

Just like Arnold Simmons said.

He could always find her.

Find the person he deeply loved.

*

That night, Sheffield Benedict stayed in District Nine to rest.

His visit was not solely for the turmoil in District Nine but also for matters at the border.

Although the Wanderers had yet to declare war, the longer the delay, the more disadvantageous it was for the royal family.

What kind of disadvantage?

Obviously, it was damaging to their reputation and honor.

It was a joke that a grand imperial royal family could be threatened by what they called a "shameless and lowly force."

But what could be done?

Wayne Lane was just recovering from serious injuries, and the other major powers only wanted to sit and watch.

The royals were not ignorant of the proverb ’when the snipe and the clam grapple, it is the fisherman who benefits.’

But now, all they could do was wait.

The royal family viewed the Wanderers as enemies.

But both he and Wayne Lane knew that the key point lay with Hannah.

At eight o’clock in the evening.

Sheffield Benedict initiated a communication with Wayne Lane.

The conditions in District Nine were somewhat primitive; the best room there had been ceded by the president of the Hunter’s Guild.

Sheffield Benedict didn’t show any dissatisfaction. Even when sitting on a cheap wooden chair, he still exuded an aristocratic air.

Wayne Lane was still in his deep blue combat suit, "How are things on your end?"

"They’re fine, everything is under control," Sheffield Benedict confidently affirmed, "There shouldn’t be any problems for a while."