"I noticed that ever since you arrived in Hot Gold City, you've started acting all mysterious and cryptic." Laplace looked Angel up and down. "Are you competing with Gleipnir to see whose words sound more like a mirror-hiding riddle?"
Gleipnir tugged her sagging, aged facial skin into a smile but said nothing.
Angel merely said, "I don't think I have the makings of a riddler. When I said 'later,' I meant it literally. Once we leave Hot Gold City, you'll know."
Laplace gave Angel a long look, then nodded lightly. "Then... should I look forward to it a little?"
Angel looked at Laplace in surprise. "Was that a deadpan joke? Or were you... trying to be humorous?"
Laplace said nothing, merely sweeping Angel with an indifferent gaze.
"I was joking." Angel gave an awkward laugh and took back his words, then turned serious. "There's no need to look forward to it. I only have a few sparks of inspiration, and whether they can take shape still needs to be tested. If it turns out that this inspiration is completely meaningless, then there'd be no value in anticipation..."
Laplace refuted him softly, "Looking forward to something doesn't mean it has to succeed. Failure may cut those expectations in half, but it is still an expectation."
After a pause, Laplace looked straight into Angel's eyes. "Besides, what I'm looking forward to isn't an event. It's you."
In Laplace's heart, Angel himself had begun to become synonymous with the unknown, hidden depths, the astonishing, and... miracles.
Just look at everything Angel had done along the way.
Whether it was successfully changing the entire landscape of the Clear Sky Poem Room, creating the Dream Crystal Plain, or casually refining Half-Step Mystic objects whenever the mood struck him... in Laplace's eyes, every one of those