"Thanks. I'm fine, really. It's just that I... Damn, this chair was custom-made not long ago..."
Tales grabbed Miranda's hand and used it for leverage as he struggled out of the broken chair.
Miranda quietly watched the boy before her—perhaps he was a young man now—as he frantically and awkwardly rummaged through the wreckage of the chair, his face full of expression.
It reminded her of the Bright Moon Temple seven years ago: the little boy standing atop a wooden crate, covered in grime, yet still waving his tender little fists and roaring, "Are you coming or not?"
The corners of Miranda's lips lifted unconsciously.
"All right, I give up. Next time, I'll have them find another carpenter..." After a frantic scramble, Tales could only helplessly raise both hands and declare the chair's life at an end.
The young Duke looked up, and Miranda's smile vanished.
"Now, Your Highness, can we get back to the point?"
The point.
"What? Oh, oh, right. Exactly. So, what we were talking about was..."
Do you want to marry me?
At that thought, Tales' expression turned solemn, and his voice dropped.
"Are you joking with me, Miss Miranda Arendt?"
Marry Miranda?
It felt like... something he had once used to threaten other people. Yes, it had actually come true?
The next moment, he seemed to see Raphael Lindberg appear before him, his eyes glowing red as he revealed an ominous, malicious grin.
Tales' expression tightened.
Facing the tense Duke, Miranda remained as calm and composed as ever.
"No, this isn't a joke. Even if it were, it wouldn't be funny."
So you know that too.
In that instant, countless thoughts flashed through Tales' mind—including she's teamed up with that Wasteland Bone Kid to get revenge on me. He took a deep breath and straightened