Emily wasn’t particularly surprised by Mr. Satan’s arrival. One thing she had learned over the past three years was that every action and word had a purpose. Taking a couple of steps forward, Emily sat down on a bench reserved for tourists. Mr. Satan followed her, as expected. Though he no longer hid his interest in her, he still maintained a polite distance, making sure not to make her feel uncomfortable. “The Colosseum was once filled with blood, violence, and death. I doubt anyone watching the events here thousands of years ago could have imagined that it would one day become a tourist attraction, with benches for resting and ticket booths nearby,” Mr. Satan said lightly, his raspy voice somehow blending with the historical weight of the place. Emily had no interest in delving into people’s pasts. By now, everyone carried their own stories, stories not easily unraveled by strangers. “Thousands of years, and everything changes,” Emily said as her eyes drifted toward the horizon. “Time is the sharpest knife. It wipes away everything, carving the world into whatever shape it wants.” Mr. Satan leaned back slightly, resting his hands on the back of the bench, tilting his body ever so slightly toward her. “Yes, time is terrifying. It changes everything, often without us even realizing it.” Emily turned to him and asked, “Do you think you’ll ever forget your ex-wife?” “She is still my wife,” Mr. Satan corrected her. “We never intended to divorce. Even though she may not be with me anymore, until the very end, our relationship was strong. So, no, she’s not my ex-wife.” Emily lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry.” “It’s alright,” Mr. Satan said, forgiving her easily. “My wife was a kind, compassionate person. She wouldn’t have been upset over a simple title. Miss Carter, did you know she also had a passion for architecture? Unfortunately, her early life was difficult, and she never had the chance to study it properly.” Emily gave a faint smile. “Sounds like a Cinderella story.” “No, more like Beauty and the Beast,” Mr. Satan corrected her. “If she hadn’t entered my life, I would have spent my life as a beast—fighting, clawing, and risking everything. I was prepared to die for my goals, but after meeting her, I found a reason to live.” His buildup was long and Emily was quickly running out of patience. “But she’s the one who’s gone, and you’re still here, aren’t you?”“Yes,” Mr. Satan admitted, nodding in agreement. “But for some reason, I can’t shake the feeling that my wife isn’t truly gone. It feels like she’s still out there, somewhere, waiting for me to find her and bring her home.” Emily let out a sudden laugh. “Are you saying that I… remind you of your wife?” Now that she had opened the door to the conversation, Mr. Satan stopped pretending. “That’s right, Miss Carter. You remind me so much of her. You’re staying in room 2307, the very room where we first met. It was our Eden. You’ve won the Pritzker Prize for architecture, and my wife’s mother was an acclaimed architect. My wife inherited that talent, and if she’d received formal education, her future would have been limitless. And as for the gentleman traveling with you—he’s no stranger. He’s my wife’s uncle.” Thud! The bag Emily had been holding slipped from her hand, falling to the ground and instantly becoming coated with dust. Without hesitation, Mr. Satan bent down, picked up the bag, and brushed off the dust before placing it gently beside her. “Miss Carter, I realize I may be overstepping, but could you answer one question for me?” Emily’s hands trembled slightly as she took the bag from him. She gripped its handle tightly, as if holding onto the last lifeline keeping her from drowning. “This isn’t the Pritzker Prize ceremony. I don’t owe you any explanations.” “You’re right,” Mr. Satan said, leaning in just a bit. “But you didn’t deny it.” Emily’s brow furrowed slightly. She knew now was not the time to lose her cool. She needed to stay calm, composed, and indifferent. Exhaling slowly, she raised her eyes and smiled as she met his gaze. “That’s because I haven’t had the chance to deny it yet. I understand your longing for your wife, but I think you’re simply projecting your emotions onto me. Maybe I do resemble her, but I’m not her. My parents are alive and well, living in England. My mother isn’t an architect—she’s a piano teacher who teaches children how to play. And I’m staying in room 2307 purely because I don’t like too much sunlight.” Mr. Satan listened quietly. His expression remained unchanged, but Emily could sense the conflict brewing inside him. Internally, Emily let out a bitter laugh. Life had a way of playing the cruelest jokes. Everything—from the room number to the congee, to the tour itself—seemed perfectly orchestrated, as if the universe had deliberately placed Mr. Satan back in front of her.But she and Mr. Satan had both changed. She had undergone surgery, and he was no longer the man he once was. They were strangers now. Perhaps that was for the best. Mr. Satan seemed to be processing everything she had said. After a long pause, he awkwardly asked, “Can I ask why? Why don’t you like sunlight?” Emily chuckled softly. “I'm sensitive to sunlight. The light sunlight also keeps me awake.” “That’s all?” he asked, still not fully convinced. “Yes, that’s all.” Mr. Satan didn’t seem satisfied. “But what about Bert? He told me you’re her niece.” “We’re distant relatives,” Emily replied. “Oh, and if that’s the case, I do have a connection to your wife. Her uncle is my distant relative, so perhaps there’s a bit of shared bloodline. Maybe that’s why I look familiar to you.” Finally, Mr. Satan fell silent. Emily stood up, no longer wanting to continue the conversation. “Well, now that everything’s out in the open, I think it’s time for us to go our separate ways. I’m sure you have plenty of things to take care of, so I won’t keep you any longer. Goodbye.” Without waiting for a response, she walked away. Bert was standing by a plaque not too far ahead, seemingly confused by the text and gesturing toward a group of elderly men in an attempt to figure it out. When he saw her approaching, he waved excitedly. “Miranda! Come here, help us figure out what this sign says!”