It had to be said, girls were truly made of water. Even Lyra, who normally wore sturdy armor and wrapped her delicate body in sacred iron, couldn’t help but have her tear ducts burst open at hearing Astrid say, "It’s okay to cry tonight."

She wasn’t nearly as strong as she appeared to the public, a wise and calm frontline commander. Quite the opposite, when it comes to life and death, Lyra harbors the same fear as any ordinary person.

In the past, before Arcanist mages joined the battlefield, Magnus were the top-tier forces capable of deciding the outcome of wars. Although Lyra fought on the front lines alongside most soldiers, the pressure and danger she faced were actually far less than theirs.

Ordinary soldiers feared being struck down by arrows from nowhere, dreaded sudden waves of fire melting their barriers and burning them to ash, and worried about massive boulders launched from afar crushing them beneath city walls.

Because they weren’t strong enough, they couldn’t foresee when hidden dangers would strike, nor did they possess the comprehensive intelligence Lyra had, understanding the minds of the powerful above, and knowing the Empire’s strategic plans.

They didn’t know when the war would end, whether they’d be abandoned as pawns, why things had deteriorated to this state, or when they might finally achieve victory and leave this hellish place.

They were genuine cannon fodder, their lives and meaningful ideals against waves of destructive magic.

And just half a day ago, Lyra had fully experienced that bone-deep helplessness felt by the city defenders. Facing a blazing sun half the size of White Maple Town, overwhelmed by surging elemental tides capable of erasing all life on the ground, she could no longer hold her own life in her hands. Every struggle seemed meaningless, as if everything before her eyes would end in the next second.

In that instant, primal survival instincts buried deep within her soul overrode rational thought. Cold, piercing fear washed over her entire body, clashing and entangling with everything else.

And in that very second, Lyra understood how to swing her sword, and what she needed to do next.

Life was a fleeting journey, ending at an unknown moment. All she could do was fight with all her strength to stay alive before it became irreversible.

Then eat what she loved, see the sights she wanted, chase the dreams she desired, and love the person she cherished.

Warm liquid soaked her black nightgown, dampening her cheeks. Lyra sniffled softly, feeling tears continue to stream down.

She was already a Crusader-level existence, yet her ability to control tears remained so feeble.

In Lyra’s memory, having always been doted on by her family, she rarely cried. Her parents never held strange rules like punishing children harshly for crying.

Growing up in such an environment, she never learned to suppress her tears.

Or perhaps... Lyra simply had no intention of controlling them.

Subtle sobs loudly beside the pillow, her throat swallowing involuntarily, making her cascade of pink hair tremble slightly.

That’s fine... after all, Astrid had just said...

Tonight, she could cry.

Just crying once in a while didn’t make her a crybaby.

Astrid clearly didn’t mind Lyra getting tears on her dress. She gently wrapped her arms around the warm, soft figure before her, patting the young girl’s back soothingly.

"It’s all over, Lyra."

"You’re safe, I’m safe. Nothing happened."

Like comforting a child, Astrid patted her back while murmuring softly, intensifying the atmosphere of safety beside Lyra.

Having walked the line between life and death, who could remain absolutely rational? Even Astrid herself was probably only calm on the surface, her heart churning inside.

Of course... crying in the arms of someone she liked wasn’t really necessary... 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺

After all, combining her lifetimes, she’d long passed the age of easy tears. But Lyra was still just a beautiful young woman in her early twenties.

Doing this much was already incredibly difficult.

Time passed second by second. Unlike Amalia’s tears shed upon realizing her unshakable flaws, Lyra’s were merely the pressure release after stepping down from the high-stakes edge, no mental counseling needed.

Astrid softened her voice as much as possible, spending most of the time acting as a pillow, silent and still, using physical gestures to tell Lyra she was right beside her, going nowhere.

After an unknown amount of time, the movements in her arms quieted. Astrid lowered her gaze to see Lyra gently rubbing her eyelids, one eye half-lidded, its bright blue iris misty, like a sea veiled in thin morning fog.

"Astrid..."

Her voice carried a faint nasal tone, whining softly like someone just waking up, filled with undeniable moisture, yet retaining a girl’s unique tenderness.

Anyone who heard it would have their heart melt at least three parts.

Astrid gently rubbed Lyra’s earlobe, then picked up the silk handkerchief placed beside the bed, using her fingertip to wipe carefully.

Her long, perky eyelashes glistened with, sparkling translucently in the light. Astrid didn’t have time to admire the sight, so she reached out and wiped away the tears.

"Feeling better?"

Being able to release it was ultimately a good thing, far better than bottling it up and draining oneself.

Lyra responded with a soft "Mm," her pearly teeth lightly biting her pink lip.

"Thank you, Astrid."

To be so to her at this moment... even makes her feel, for a fleeting second, the tender love of a mother...

Astrid really was the most perfect person in the world.

Lying sideways, leaving the entire task of wiping tears to the silver-haired beauty before her, Lyra quietly gazed at her face, then murmured softly after a moment.

"Um..."

"...It’s embarrassing, right?"

Crying uncontrollably in front of someone she liked, purely from fear rather than other emotions.

Hearing Lyra’s question, Astrid shook her head, her voice gentle.

No, Lyra.

She’d already said it, crying wasn’t a big deal.

"Crying is just a way of releasing emotions, a treasure given to humanity by the heavens. There’s no need to suppress it."

"At least now that you’ve cried, your mood should be much better."

Indeed, those warm tears seemed to have sucked out all the fear and lingering dread from Lyra’s body, releasing them entirely through her tear ducts and eyes.

She felt much lighter.

Noticing her tears had completely soaked Astrid’s nightgown, and since the latter had no habit of restricting her body while sleeping, Lyra vaguely caught sight of contours, her cheeks instantly reddening, her blue eyes flustered and quickly looking away.

"Sorry... I got Astrid’s clothes all wet..."

Although crying in Astrid’s arms had felt incredibly relaxing, thinking about it now, the person whose dress had been smeared with tears probably wasn’t very comfortable.

Nightgowns were meant to be cool, loose, and convenient for sleeping. Once soaked with such heavy moisture, clinging to the skin, how could they still be called comfortable?

Seeing Lyra had recovered well, Astrid curved her lips, her tone returning to her usual succubus-like state, languid, laced with a hint of allure.

"If this lets Lyra release everything, what’s a mere nightgown?"

Such words... were hard not to interpret in other ways...

Lyra’s cheeks grew even redder, clearly realizing Astrid’s underlying meaning.

In the past, she definitely wouldn’t have understood such implications. Even if she knew intimate secrets and understood bedroom affairs, she’d still need time to process them.

She had changed into this version of herself, some mischievous woman was undoubtedly to blame.

As the Holy Light Knight pondered exactly when the succubus had seduced her into corruption, a certain princess casually flicked her shoulder strap, crimson hazy eyes, continuing in a seductive tone.

"Besides... compared to the last time you faced me, this isn’t that much of a loss of composure..."

Astrid’s lips neared Lyra’s ear, a tempting fragrance wafting over.

"..."

The soft voice echoed in Lyra’s mind, like a sunset igniting clouds into twilight.

The pink-haired girl pressed her legs together, her tightly sealed pink lips now just a thin line, her snow-white cheeks already flushed crimson.

If Lyra remembered correctly, she’d only cried once in front of Astrid, so the "last time" Astrid referred to must be... the day of the maid uniform...

And what did she mean by "less discharge"...

Although soaking a dress and wetting sheets were indeed on different scales, could that really be compared to crying?

Her ears burned fiercely, as if about to catch fire. Lyra’s beautiful face turned completely red, finally accomplishing what she’d wanted to do, but failed to execute, in the princess carry position.

She gently bumped her head against Astrid’s collarbone, a retaliation for being teased, then lifted the silver hair and leaned in to kiss.

Faced with the bad woman’s relentless teasing, this was the only way to slightly ease the heat building in Lyra’s heart.

The shy girl who used to be completely unable to resist Astrid’s teasing, only blushing in embarrassment, had changed.

Astrid naturally didn’t refuse, accepting this long kiss.

Only when the wall clock’s hour hand pointed to eleven did they finally end their intimacy.

Thanks to Astrid’s playful interruption, the previous oppressive atmosphere had completely dissolved. The warmth of reality countered the chill of near-death, fully liberating Lyra from lingering fear.

"You slept so long, didn’t eat or drink anything. Have some tea now."

The moisture she’d taken from Astrid was ultimately too little compared to that earlier flood of pink-haired tears. Astrid handed Lyra the prepared black tea, watching her cradle the cup and drink it sip by sip.

"If you’re hungry, there are still pies in the kitchen. Just heat them up."

"No thanks, Astrid. I’m not that hungry."

Rather than getting up late at night for another meal, lying in bed and talking with Astrid right now makes Lyra feel much more at ease.

Hearing Lyra say so herself, Astrid didn’t insist. She got up and went to the bathroom, removing the lace gown soaked with tears and changing into a pure white nightgown.

When she returned, Lyra had just set down her teacup, seeing Astrid holding a stack of black silk, seemingly folded garments.

Lightweight dress fabric, elaborate decorations, smooth materials, just this single noble dress Astrid normally wore already felt bulky in her hands.

Not to mention additional accessories: noble jewelry, silk sashes for the waist, spare cufflinks, and so on.

Among this collection, the simplest and most convenient item to store was actually the topmost one, a pair of pure black garter stockings with buckles.

"I’ll temporarily leave a set here with you, Lyra."

They’d discussed this earlier in the morning. Astrid currently exhausted spatial storage, so she could only temporarily borrow Lyra’s Sword of Light as a spare wardrobe.

"Mm."

Taking the long dress Astrid handed her, the layered fabric felt cool and smooth against her skin. Even wearing just this outer garment wouldn’t feel uncomfortable.

Sensing the silk slide to her wrist, sending an extremely gentle sensation, Lyra didn’t hesitate. Her fingernail flashed faintly with a sword mark, instantly storing Astrid’s outfit within the light blade.

Then, Astrid handed another set of clothes from beside the bed to Lyra. Compared to the noble gown, this fabric was even lighter, matching its role as innerwear close to the skin.

"Here, put these in too," Astrid said.

"Oh... okay..."

Her palms slightly heated upon touching the fabric, but Lyra responded quickly. In an instant, lace and thin straps turned into light particles, merging into the light sword.

With everything done, Astrid lay back under the covers. Lyra, exhausted from returning so late in the morning, had collapsed straight into rest. She’d taken off her shorts and white thigh-highs, but her upper shirt remained untouched.

She got up and took a shower. When Lyra returned, the lamp on the nightstand had dimmed further.

"Rest now. Don’t mess up your biological clock."

"Hmm, you too, Astrid."

Lying on the soft bed, the newly showered Lyra felt refreshingly cool, as if every cell was breathing the quiet night air.

The battle was truly over.

Turning her head, the light on the nightstand gradually faded. Silver moonlight bathed the woman’s pale, flawless cheek, her perky nose like a mountain peak, the pair of lips beneath resembling flowers blooming at night, vivid under the light, as if glazed with enamel.

Feeling Lyra’s gaze, Astrid turned to look at her, her crimson eyes reflected the girl’s face, also shimmering with faint light.

"Time to sleep," Astrid said.

Okay.

The Empire of Valeria’s war of national defense had nearly concluded. At this point, perhaps she should have a proper talk with Astrid.

About the future, about love, about yourself.

She was now an Arcanist mage, having reached the threshold of being worthy to marry the princess.

Closing her eyes, her nose filled with her beloved’s scent, Lyra slowly drifted into sleep.

Before returning to the capital, she would tell Astrid all her feelings.