"Nice place," Agnes said, surveying everything in front of her, "nice place." ”

She smiled and looked at Nightingale, the candles in the palace shimmering, countless mirrors reflecting the light of the candles, and the faint colors seemed to be swimming in Agnes's bone-white skin.

The shadows in those mirrors are illusory and hazy, and there are layers of pictures intertwined, both the grandeur of this palace and all kinds of scenes that are even more strange than this palace, so that these mirrors show a variety of rich and brilliant colors.

"It's much brighter than I thought it would be." She watched the figure of the little nightingale in her hand disappear, and then Agnes saw that not far in front of her, at least in her senses, almost illusory and transparent ripples formed a humanoid shape, and those ripples continued to spread outward, and then quietly disappeared when they came into contact with the mirrors in the palace, as if they had entered a mirror.

"That's why 'musical angels sing in their heads'?" Agnes said with a smile.

The illusory ripples that spread out from the figure seemed to pause in Angness's words, and Angnes's mind couldn't help but think of Nightingale's appearance a few times before.

If she were human now, she must have blushed again, and Agnes couldn't help but think so

"Those mirrors represent...... A portal to the mind? Agnes said the question in a tone of near-affirmativeness.

"Yes." The illusory figure nodded.

Agnes had a hard time describing what she had heard in these almost short words. She felt as if she had heard the euphemistic solo of the violin, and the solemn and beautiful harmony of the organ; It seems to have a music box crisp and clean, and it seems to have a gorgeous high-pitched soprano.

Agnes widened her eyes in almost amazement as she looked at Nightingale's illusory figure.

"I like your voice," said Agnes, who paused, nodded, and looked at Nightingale with an expectant look.

Agnes could clearly see that the ripples that spread throughout the palace paused slightly.

Agnes couldn't help but laugh.

Ah, she's shy again.

"Ma'am......," Agnes heard Nightingale call in a tone that bordered on helplessness.

Agnes stifled a smile and shifted the subject.

"The mirrors of your palace seem to count?" Agnes asked, her gaze resting on a mirror, "The most ardent people?" ”

Agnes nodded slightly at the sight of the illusory figure.

"And it's still increasing?" Agnes asked in a low voice as she watched a mirror disappear somewhere and a new one popped up in another.

"It's up to them," Nightingale said, "as long as they're passionate enough and talented enough." ”

"Well," said Agnes in a low voice, "that's where you found that Mr. Stresses before?" ”

"The side that belongs to him has been here for a long time." Nightingale's voice was a little muffled, and it sounded like a cello.

Agnes didn't ask any more, just looked at the mirrors curiously.

"Sarah won't be fascinated by it anymore," said Nightingale suddenly, "and when the door of illusion opens, every moment of memory she cherishes will make her discern everything she sees......"

Agnes sighed, raised her hand, and finally let it go.

"Memories are a treasure." Agnes said eventually.

Nightingale stopped her words and said, "They're still here." ”

Agnes felt that Nightingale seemed to be looking at her with a blazing gaze.

"I think you're going to be interested in them." Nightingale sounded a little excited.

Agnes saw the ripples in the spreading palace begin to become chaotic, even looking a little elusive. The mirrors that filled the palace seemed to move, and the dazzling light continued to refract in the palace, and for a moment Angnes felt as if they were electric.

Eventually, the mirrors stopped, and two mirrors appeared in front of Angus.

Who are they? Agnes subconsciously looked at the scene in the two mirrors.

In a mirror, she saw snow-covered tops of crimson mountains, rivers winding their way through the grasslands, and clumps of grass wandering in the wind on some barren highlands.

In the other mirror, she saw well-dressed and elegantly dressed people singing and dancing, fireworks of all colors blooming in the sky, unclothed people huddled in the dark, and cold guards standing at the intersection of light and darkness.

"You can hear the song of their hearts from here." Nightingale's voice came from almost the entire palace.

With some hesitation, Agnes reached out her hand and touched the first mirror, and she heard a magnificent symphony.

"It's Mr. Conte," Angnes affirmed, "it's the same series as the original one." ”

Agnes suddenly thought of the symphony she had heard at the Musicians' Guild the day she had just left the ground, and she couldn't help but hook the corners of her mouth.

"Mr. Conte has always been like this," she said, releasing her hand on the mirror, "and he would often linger on the memories of the Southern Continent. ”

"Then this should be Marcorno," Agnes said with some hesitation, "it could only be him." ”

Agnes reached out and touched the second mirror, and a lot of contradictory and dramatic music suddenly resounded in Agnes's mind, most of them were just fragments, variety, but only a prototype could be seen.

Agnes let go of her hand and pressed her temple with some reluctance.

"There's a little bit of Mr. Conte's style," Angnes whispered, "but it's clear that he has more of his own ideas. ”

Agnes paused for a moment before saying, "He's really talented. ”

She looked at the mirrored scene, among the richly dressed crowd, a pale and thin girl, standing quietly in the corner, calmly looking at the crowd singing and dancing.

"Looks like he wants to include me in his music." Agnes couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

Then she saw that the girl suddenly held one hand against the wall next to her, and almost fainted to the ground, and the crowd next to her was in a panic.

Agnes couldn't help but take a deep breath and twitch the corners of her mouth.

"What kind of impression does he have of me?"