"The city of Utopia doesn't differ essentially from the ones I've visited—whether in customs, ethnic backgrounds, or architectural styles, everything is standardly Roonish. "I've heard that the southern continent has many unusual and distinctive traditions, and I hope to experience them one day, of course, after the east and west of Brelan have restored peace. "As for Utopia itself, its most distinctive feature is the ever-changing climate, with frequent storms, so that most people carry umbrellas and wear raincoats treated with the sap of the Donnismann tree. The hotel's staff told me that as long as one has a steady income and needs to work outside regularly, one must save money to purchase raincoats—otherwise, illness will take a heavier toll. "There are no meteorologists here, so I have no way of knowing the reason for this variable climate, only speculating that it's due to its coastal location within the hurricane belt." Yes, there's a deep-water port several kilometers outside Utopia, but they're understaffed and unable to manage it effectively, so it operates only on a modest scale. "They also lack a local newspaper—after all, it's merely a small city of several thousand people, and the newsstand vendors mainly sell The Tassok Paper, The Dese Mirror, and The Sea Wind Paper." "My second reason for liking this place is that many people in Utopia are cheerful and optimistic, full of enthusiasm for life. "As I'm writing this, a band just passed by outside the hotel. "This isn't a professional ensemble; it's entirely composed of amateur enthusiasts—among them, government employees, peace judges, administrative lawyers, professional police officers, school teachers, fruit factory workers, and shop owners. Among the wealthier and more time-rich members, those who play the tuba, violin, and other more demanding instruments, while the middle- and lower-income residents use simpler instruments such as the seven-string guitar and the harmonica." On certain weekends, they walk onto the streets, starting from the city square, circling the city, and returning to the nearby Saint Alainna Church, which they call their "musical procession." During the procession, they don't merely welcome the public—they actively encourage residents to join in singing or dancing. From my observation, participants are genuinely happy and deeply satisfied, fully expressing their love for life, conveying a vibrant and uplifting spirit. I must admit, it's incredibly infectious—I've joined the procession several times, and in the midst of music, dance, and song, I've forgotten my worries and only remembered joy. Today, however, they are not on a procession—they are heading to the church to offer blessings to a newlyweds couple. "When it comes to weddings, the aspect of Utopia that still baffles me most is that there's only a single church dedicated to the Goddess of Night. I know that, throughout most of the kingdom—even in a small town—there are typically at least two churches: one for the Goddess of Night and another devoted to the Lord of Storms. Until today, I simply couldn't imagine that a regular town in the kingdom would worship only one deity. Yet, this doesn't cause me much trouble. Before I turned eighteen, my family's influence limited my faith to the Lord of Storms; however, after graduating from the grammar school, I truly came to understand that the Goddess is the one who embodies the greatest compassion and mercy. As for the wedding itself, I attended one just two days ago and noticed that Utopia has certain unique customs in this regard." What strikes me most is that, when the pastor declares the marriage official, the groom and the bride bow to each other—there's no question of who is superior or inferior, just a sincere expression of gratitude for a lifetime together. This might well be an embodiment of the goddess tradition's principle of gender equality. Additionally, during the celebration following the wedding, there are special interactive games, such as the couple sharing their love stories. For them, this might be quite awkward, but for the guests, it's undoubtedly engaging. Yes, I agree—though I certainly wouldn't include such segments at my own wedding. "At that wedding, I heard one of the most beautiful love stories I've ever heard in my life. If there's interest among the readers of this column, I'd be happy to recount it—though I'll naturally adjust the names and some details so as not to bother the couple. Whether it's the most fundamental dishes—grilled steaks, fried pork cutlets, charcoal-grilled meats, seared fish and beef—或是 more complex or challenging ones such as pea and lamb stew, creamy soup, buttered mashed potatoes, or roasted potato skins, they all absolutely reach the level of an urban chef's expertise. Moreover, the chefs here are particularly skilled at creating innovative and unusual dishes, offering dishes with tangy-sweet meat bits, or fish roasted and repeatedly brushed with various seasonings. On what might seem like a rather unremarkable staple, the chefs at Utopia have not given up. Throughout my stay in the city, I've encountered a wide variety of toast: yam-based, potato-based, buttered, light cream-based, and ones topped with fruit pieces—so diverse that I never tasted the same kind within a week. And among all the dishes here, the desserts stand out most: crème brûlée, fruit crème, Black Forest cake, carrot cake, milk cake, pancakes, egg tarts... As I write this, I feel hungry again. This is precisely why I haven't wanted to leave after staying here for a week. Right now, my greatest concern is no longer my wallet, but my weight. I'm grateful that the hotel doesn't have a mechanical scale, yet I'm also complaining about the absence of one. The red wine from Utopia is also quite excellent, though it lacks the depth of age. It seems that among the vineyards surrounding this town, there's still no awareness of such a tradition. "Here, I would like to formally recommend a beverage—Utopia Sparkling Iced Tea—which is particularly special, offering an experience beyond just sweetness and bubbles... "Every evening, I take a walk around the city square, a favorite gathering spot for Utopian citizens, who have an extraordinary affection for white doves." "I met a painter there named Anderson—he is handsome and exceptionally skilled, though he is a mute." "I also know a writer named Alese, a rather unusual name. He told me he is currently working on a novel and invited me to sample the opening chapter." "I don't offer any commentary on his novel; what strikes me is that several names I recognize appear right at the beginning of his story." "This includes Anderson, Wendy, yes, the owner of my very favorite bakery... "I raised this question, and Aleesa seriously explained to me that it's quite reasonable for a writer, when struggling to come up with character names, to draw inspiration from people they know around them. "I completely agree."... "Due to space constraints, this sharing session comes to an end. Love you all, Charlotte." Monica set down her pen and carefully read through the manuscript twice, correcting spelling and grammatical errors. She was a writer, not particularly well-known, who had previously relied on writing average romance novels to make a living—after converting to the "Goddess of Night," her father had nearly severed all ties with her. Yet since Miss Florence Walde, author of "Wuthering Heights," pioneered the travel column and gained considerable popularity after the war, Monica has also begun writing travel articles for several newspapers in Beckland—a perfect fit for her own interests, which infuse her writing with a unique vitality and have helped establish her as a well-known travel writer under the pen name Charlotte. Once the ink had completely dried, Monica carefully transcribed a fresh copy and enclosed it in the envelope, affixing the stamp. With the address verified, the woman with wavy black hair and a Dixie Gulf style stepped into her handbag, exited the hotel, and headed for the Utopia Post Office. Located adjacent to the telegraph office, Monica often felt it a waste of resources—she believed Utopia rarely needed telegrams, and maintaining a dedicated telegraph office seemed excessive. After sending off the letters, Monica glanced at the sky and strolled toward the city square. When she reached the entrance of Saint Alainna Church, she encountered Beales. A police officer who had previously visited Monica at the "Crocus" inn concerning witness issues in the Trish murder case. Unfortunately, Monica did not know the man named Winder. After exchanging nods and greetings, Monica entered the church and took a seat, quietly listening to the sermon delivered by the clergyman named Thomsen. This was the most spiritually composed priest she had encountered since converting to the "Night Goddess." Thomsen had silvering hair, a slow and measured pace, a calm demeanor, a low, soothing voice that naturally brought people into a state of quiet peace. Monica closed her eyes and listened intently to the scripture. Before Alfred and Hiberet's sister, both of them had been enjoying themselves—at least on the surface. For Alfred, the real challenge was to keep himself composed, not reveal anything too exceptional, or else, as a "Disciplinarian Knight" joining a hunting expedition, he would completely overshadow everyone else. He knew his sister was extraordinary, yet he also understood that a Sequence 7 through the "Audience" path wouldn't possess any substantial combat prowess. As they pursued, they emerged from the forest and spotted a field of wheat. "Where are we?" Audrey, dressed in hunting attire, asked casually. It was the first time she had hunted in this forest, and she wasn't sure which paths led where. Hiberet was equally unfamiliar, and he turned to his attendant and said, "Let's find someone to ask." While waiting, the three siblings laughed and discussed their recent catch, and the golden-haired dog, Suzy, glanced at the several hounds trying to approach her, causing them to naturally step back. After a while, Hiberth's attendant returned to report: "Lord, there's a village nearby called Hedrak..." Hedrak... the village with the tradition of dragon worship? So I've come here from a different direction? Oudelir was momentarily taken aback.