"A-acktually!" Claire suddenly raised a finger, correcting Amaras. "A Noctifelis from another world!"
For some reasons, she even tried to joke a bit to lift the mood.
But Amaras barely reacted.
"Yes, yes, from another world," she muttered flatly, before lifting the cola can to her lips again. Then, she turned her head toward the window, her crimson eyes reflecting nothing but a distant haze. "In any case, I told you already. I am no longer a threat. You may ignore me and continue your life. I wish you and your master good luck."
Her voice then grew quieter.
"It is not as though anything I do carries meaning anymore."
"What…?"
Hearing that, Claire felt something tighten in her chest.
Watching Amaras like this—slouched against the couch, gaze empty, voice stripped of its edge—stirred memories she had long tried to bury.
It reminded her of herself.
Of the girl she had been years ago, at the darkest point of her life, which was around the time her father died.
