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Not long after.
Black Swan and Acheron appeared together in a private booth partition within the restaurant.
The restaurant as a whole was clean and bright. Fresh flowers and famous paintings adorned the booth, and the atmosphere was soothing and quiet.
Acheron felt very comfortable. She liked this kind of feeling.
Perhaps because her gray-white world had regained its color, she now felt a more inclusive fondness toward everything.
Yet she felt that what made this place different for her was, in fact, a more direct reason.
When she saw the languid young man leaning against the dining table and yawning, her mood brightened accordingly.
He was the embodiment of hope, the condensation of a blazing star.
Where he stood, it was as though most of the universe's mass converged there—the opposite of hollow Nihility—filling her with an immense sense of security, as if she were embracing the greater part of reality itself in an instant.
This feeling had not existed when she first met Sol, nor before the unevolved light had entered her body.
Only after the fully realized Light of Hope took root within her Nihility—resonating with her true self through the seed of light—did she begin to see a truer Sol.
Like a star, yet greater than a star.
In no aspect did he trend toward decline. Instead, everything about him advanced steadily toward strength—until eternity.
In a universe bound by entropy and the inevitable tide of Nihility, he alone moved against the current.
Perhaps that was the root of hope being one with him.
"…"
Sol looked at Acheron and Black Swan and nodded with a smile.
On the surface, it seemed as though nothing had happened.
Black Swan maintained her elegant beauty, her expression relaxed.
Today, Acheron was filled with vitality within, vastly different from her former detached, almost mechanical aura.
Yet the lingering influence of Nihility preserved a faint sense of lifelessness in her appearance. When vitality collided with that subtle deathly air, it produced a strikingly uncanny beauty—making her even more captivating.
Both of them had arrived safely.
Perhaps he had developed an unfair stereotype, assuming Black Swan would botch whatever she did.
Clearly, he had overthought it. A Memokeeper was still reliable—surely guiding someone wouldn't go wrong.
Black Swan lifted her slender neck and returned a composed smile.
Though the process had been slightly perilous, the result was good. She had successfully completed a small task.
Later, she could share with her fellow Memokeepers the thrilling tale of surviving under the blade of an Emanator of Nihility.
But for now, nothing had happened.
"Mei, good morning."
Sol revealed an admiring expression and gave a thumbs-up. "You look radiant today. It's a wonderful feeling."
"Yes, good morning to you as well."
Acheron's face flushed faintly as a trace of joy appeared in her smile, though it carried a hint of awkwardness. "Thank you. You look very beautiful too."
It had been far too long since she had experienced such intense emotional feedback.
Stimulated by the light of hope, the emotions she had reclaimed from Nihility were exceptionally sensitive.
Even the slightest ripple would be magnified many times over.
Perhaps that was a good thing. At least being praised for looking beautiful made her a hundred times happier.
"Hmm."
Sol ignored the slightly misplaced compliment and mused thoughtfully. "Looks like you still have a small issue."
This overly lively demeanor didn't quite match the cool, red-and-white blade-wielding guardian she once was.
He was certain that even before being eroded by Nihility, Acheron wouldn't have been excessively delighted by a simple greeting.
"There are indeed some issues, but they aren't serious."
Acheron replied instinctively, then hurriedly corrected herself. "No, this is serious. These issues made me miss our appointment. I'm late!"
She looked into Sol's eyes and repeated with solemn sincerity, "Yes, this is serious!"
The issue wasn't serious because, personally, she felt physically fine—better than ever, in fact, and her condition was improving.
But it was serious because she had been late—late to her first important meeting with Sol.
If she claimed it wasn't serious, wouldn't that imply she didn't respect this meeting, or the friend she valued—Sol?
Therefore, it was serious. As serious as it could be.
Sol smiled and said lightly, "I don't think it's bad at all. You look completely different, Mei. I like it even more."
He roughly understood her current state—psychologically hypersensitive.
A slight touch would trigger an enormous reaction.
Something as minor as being late—previously, Acheron would have offered a gentle apologetic smile and moved on, knowing it wasn't a big deal and that getting lost was an objective reason.
But now, she behaved as though she had committed an unforgivable crime, yearning for forgiveness like a child.
This was a temporary, extraordinary state. With more stimulation, she would gradually return to her mature, composed self.
This period must be cherished—whether for personal appreciation or to look back on together in the future. It would be a delightful memory either way.
And in this state, Acheron could easily be misled. He would have to protect her carefully.
"Really?"
Acheron touched her cheek uncertainly.
She felt that something about her current self was off—her reactions too exaggerated.
She personally felt she had worsened, but Sol thought she was better. Was he telling the truth, or comforting her?
"Of course."
Sol's smile brightened as he met her eyes directly. "Like a delicate red spider lily, swaying as it grows from fragility into maturity. The posture of growth itself is intoxicating."
"You describe me too generously."
Acheron sighed softly, her gaze drifting aside instinctively.
Her earlobes flushed red, and her toes shifted restlessly.
How was she supposed to respond to such high-level, sincere praise?
To accept it boldly and give a cool hum like a Trailblazer didn't suit her.
Should she return the compliment instead, letting Sol experience her inner turmoil? But she wasn't very good at praising others.
Just then, the soft sound of pages turning rustled through the air.
It was the elegant and attentive Ms. Black Swan.
She sat opposite Sol, positioned precisely between the two of them.
An exquisite breakfast menu flipped beneath her fingers as she curved her lips, searching for desired delicacies. Beneath the table, her black-stockinged calf rose and fell lightly to an invisible rhythm—clearly, she was in quite a good mood.
Acheron was suddenly inspired.
The Memokeeper who had just faced the threat of an Emanator could still choose her food in such delight.
Compared to life-threatening danger, her current dilemma over responding to praise was hardly worth mentioning.
At a time like this, the most correct choice was—
Since things had come to this, order first!
Acheron avoided Sol's gaze and said with feigned composure, "Ms. Black Swan, please order a peach mille-feuille and a freshly squeezed peach juice for me. Thank you."
Saying it all in one breath instantly made her feel much better.
From earlier tension, she shifted to anticipation for breakfast.
Now that her sense of taste had returned, every meal was worth looking forward to.
Black Swan smiled. "No problem. I've already marked it down."
Only then did Acheron look back at Sol, as though nothing had happened. "Where were we?"
Sol replied casually, "We were discussing your change. It's special—but worth appreciating."
Acheron's expression shifted subtly, and she immediately turned her head. "Ms. Black Swan, I'd like an extra peach pie as well!"
Oh no. She still hadn't figured out how to respond.
It seemed that this morning, she had better prepare to finish the entire menu.
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