Throughout the play, Laila kept her gaze fixed upon the stage, never once opening her mouth or glancing at Cain. So engrossed was she in the actors' performances that Cain grew concerned, scrutinizing her on multiple occasions.

The play revolved around the tragic tale of a man and a woman, who, despite being beloved enemies, fell in love and met their demise amidst misunderstandings and resentment, ultimately choosing death together.

Laila wept profusely, as if she had become a character from a real-life story. Cain handed her a handkerchief to wipe away her tears and clear her runny nose.

"Why did you cry so deeply?" Cain inquired, observing Laila's swollen eyes after they exited the theater. Although he had marveled at the play himself, he did not experience the same profound emotion and anguish as Laila did. Thus, he felt a curious mix of disbelief and admiration for her overwhelming immersion.

"It's just so sad, isn't it? To love someone and not be able to be with them," Laila responded with a nasal tone. Even in hindsight, tears threatened to pour out. The tragic love of the couple, destroyed by misunderstandings, felt immensely heartbreaking. The actors had performed well, but the story itself was expertly crafted.

"It can't be helped. That's their fate," Cain coolly assessed, reminiscent of his initial impression. Whether his diminished enthusiasm stemmed from having seen many plays or from his naturally critical nature remained uncertain. He harbored no resentment toward Laila's differing interpretation, understanding that people have varying thoughts and opinions.

"In the future, I shouldn't let you see me like this. Witnessing me in tears has brought about such realization," she mused.

"No, please let me see," he pleaded.

In response to Cain's words, Laila swiftly replied, her surprise evident. However, upon catching a glimpse of his mischievous smirk, she discerned his playful intent. Suddenly, her cheeks flushed with warmth. Not only had she inadvertently exposed her true emotions like a fool, but she had audaciously requested to be seen in such a vulnerable state. Blinded by the allure of the captivating performance and determined not to miss out on this enjoyable time, she had acted without restraint.

Enamored by her endearing disposition, Cain couldn't help but break into a continual smile.

The two of them resumed walking along the path, gradually making their way out of the narrow alleyway until the flowing river came into view. Along the riverside, various stalls illuminated the surroundings, with merchants energetically engaging in the art of persuasion, selling a plethora of art pieces, antiques, and miscellaneous household items. The food stalls, of course, thrived with bustling activity.

Contrary to Cain's earlier assessment, this place did not exude a sense of danger. It was an entirely different world when compared to Blast. Though there were some intoxicated individuals present, they neither possessed the same low quality nor displayed the same roughness as the inebriated denizens of Blastga. Instead, everyone seemed to be joyfully savoring the moment, their laughter filling the air.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"There are so many fascinating things in this world," Laila remarked.

She realized just how confined her existence had been, trapped within the narrow confines of her own well. It wasn't solely a representation of economic impoverishment. Blast had an invisible barrier that obstructed the knowledge of how the world truly operated, the existence of countless stories and experiences. It was an unjust and sorrowful state of affairs.

"That is true. However, there are also many who live devoid of the ability to appreciate such joy," Cain responded, his voice tinged with melancholy.

"Indeed?" Laila halted her steps, unable to comprehend Cain's words. He wore a peculiar smile, but offered no response. His colorless gaze seemed to suggest that he considered himself one of the subjects he had mentioned.

Laila blinked and stared at him, causing Cain to turn his body and continue walking. Naturally, she followed suit, matching her stride to his. This time, they walked side by side in silence for quite a distance. The gust of wind brushed past them, accompanied by a beautiful violin melody that reached their ears. Laila realized for the first time how music could sway a person's emotions. As everything felt new to her, her sense of awe remained undiminished.

It was regrettable that the sound of music grew distant. The wind carried a chill. Though she wore a thick shawl, it was insufficient to ward off the cold. Nonetheless, her steps slowed because she wanted to hear more of the performance. At that moment, Cain halted his steps and looked at her.

"What's the matter?"

Laila looked up at him, unable to understand his English. Tutting softly, Cain took off his coat and draped it over her shoulders.

"You shouldn't catch a cold."

"Thank you."

Laila regarded him with a peculiar feeling, touched by his consideration. He seemed aloof, yet he always knew everything that concerned her. That fact stirred excitement in her heart.

Suddenly, the sight of Cain's exposed neck bothered her. Laila swiftly reached inside her coat and pulled out a shawl. Standing on tiptoes, she gracefully draped the elongated shawl around his neck. She didn't know where her courage came from, nor did she entertain the thought of asking if he might dislike it.

"Why?" asked Cain, narrowing his eyes with suspicion.

"Your neck seemed chilly. I don't want to be the only one feeling warm."

Perplexed, Laila turned her body away this time before even taking a step. Before she could fully withdraw, her hand was caught by his.

Why? This time, without words, she inquired about his intentions.

"Just stay here for a moment. Listen to the music."

...

It was as if he was someone who had already found a place in her heart. Nodding her head in agreement, Laila finally felt him release his grip.

After listening to one more song, the two resumed their journey.

Laila's gaze fell upon an elderly flower vendor sitting by the roadside. She was wrapped in a worn-out shawl, covering even her head to shield herself from the chilly wind. Extending the flowers she held towards passersby as if pleading for a purchase, she offered a type of chrysanthemum called Golden Marguerite.

Though not particularly fresh, the flowers were enough to capture Laila's interest. She longed to buy them but simply didn't have the money. Even if she did, she would hesitate to spend it carelessly in front of him, considering the money he had given her.

Suppressing her disappointment and preparing to move on, Cain halted his steps.

"Just give her everything," he said to Laila, pointing at the flowers in the bucket.

"Thank you, sir," the servant said with gratitude.

Suddenly, a distressed maid bowed and began gathering flowers, tightly binding them together. There were no more than a dozen blossoms.