"There's one more thing… Astrid…"
The heels of her little shoes tapped lightly against the tiles, producing a crisp, rhythmic click. Under the moonlight, the delicate ankles wrapped in sheer white stockings slightly protruded, like a pair of flawless artistic sculptures. Lyra didn't care whether the leather upper or her smooth calves would get dusty. She simply stretched out both of her silken, snow-white legs, her gentle voice.
"Next time, if we're ever in a situation like that again, don't hand me the choice."
"The mere thought that, when you finally confessed, you still considered the possibility that I might leave or reject you… and yet leaving the decision entirely to me… makes me really unhappy."
What if she really had been the kind of Holy Light Knight Astrid imagined, and chose to run away?
"I actually wish that back then, Astrid could've been a bit more forceful, done a bit more to keep me."
