The most important thing, however, was that the boy from the past had now become her boyfriend.

Once at Blue Star, once across the stars, and the first encounter in her memories.

She wondered if this could be considered a love spanning three lifetimes.

It was so embarrassing, unbearably embarrassing.

Hannah hugged her bent knees and then buried her head in them, with her falling hair perfectly covering her profile.

She sighed silently, but Arnold thought she was sad.

The man who had only barely managed to sit still was suddenly flustered. He opened his mouth to call "Hannah," but the words just wouldn’t come out.

All he could do was put down what was in his hands and then get up to walk over carefully.

Hannah hadn’t noticed until Arnold settled beside her, and then she slowly shifted her feet and turned around.

Facing the stone wall, not wanting to face him, leaving only a fuzzy back of the head.

"Hannah," he called her name.

Though his voice was deep and magnetic, it transformed in Hannah’s ears into the crisp voice of the boy from her memories.

The Archer of her memories wasn’t too different from the current Arnold.

That face was the same, those eyes were the same too.

Like the night sky, even without the stars, it was a deep, ink blue, very beautiful and captivating at first glance.

"Are you angry?" Arnold reached out and gently tugged Hannah’s clothes.

It was something Hannah used to do often, somewhat like the shyness of a young girl, coyly playful. Now when Arnold did it, it seemed to have the same meaning.

But more than shyness or playfulness, his gesture was filled with concern and guilt.

"I didn’t mean to hide it from you; I thought you had forgotten everything, so I didn’t want to remind you of those unpleasant memories."

Life in Flourishing wasn’t beautiful, with its blood, violence, and the grotesque experiments.

Even now, thinking back on it, Arnold subconsciously furrowed his brow.

Upon hearing this, Hannah slowly turned her head.

Her hair was still disheveled, somewhat messy, but her round eyes were visible.

The hair in front of her forehead touched her eyelashes and cheeks, tickling slightly. Subconsciously, Hannah murmured, "Hair."

Arnold paused for a moment, then understood, and just like back in the stone house, he began tying Hannah’s hair.

His movements lacked the practiced ease of the past, but gradually he was finding the rhythm again.

Unconsciously after saying "hair," Hannah had chosen to give in to those embarrassing and twisted memories.

Following Arnold’s gestures, she slightly bowed her head, and from a bit further away, it looked as though she was nestled in Arnold’s embrace.

Occasionally, her hair brushed across the nape of her neck, feeling the warmth of Arnold’s fingertips, and Hannah raised her hand to cover her slightly heated face.

She wanted to do something to ease the sudden shyness that had overtaken her. But with no long carpet to tug at, all she could do was gaze at the distant star huan tree.

And try to divert her thoughts.

She remembered that she had passed out while finding the star huan tree.

The Lost Realm wasn’t as dangerous as the rumors suggested; places where shahua bloomed were free from mutant beasts, so the star huan tree had remained as it was all these years.

The royal family of the Empire had once tried to dismantle the star huan tree but failed.

Master Sink was one of the best manufacturers in the entire starry skies, and his finest work naturally wasn’t something that could be easily disassembled and studied.

The royals had no choice but to give up.