Hayasaka Ai felt conflicted. This conjecture had to be verified, but she did not want Yuki to take the risk.
Torn and hesitant—this was enough.
That was the attitude Yuki wanted. Nothing should be taken for granted, just like the absolute trust between the two of them Under the Crimson Moon.
"Don't worry. I've never had a habit of sacrificing myself for others. If I get pulled into a random mission, I won't enter the Dungeon." Yuki pinched the mask between his fingers, turned, and opened the door.
"And the reverse is true as well."
Bang.
The door shut. Hayasaka Ai stared in the direction he had left, yet another scene surfaced in her mind:
Inside a dark tunnel, a tide of corpses surged forward. Someone grabbed her collar and ran desperately ahead, then hurled her far away before gripping a greatsword and holding the line alone against countless enemies.
He did not have that habit?
The girl grabbed her skirt. Before Mai Sakurajima noticed, she rose to her feet, rushed into the bathroom, locked the door, turned on the tap, and scrubbed her face hard.
When she raised her head, she saw her slightly reddened face in the mirror.
Yeah, right.
Yuki left the apartment. It was deep into the night, and there was barely anyone on the streets. To be safe, he still made a wide detour by the river before hurrying toward Temple Fair Street.
The festival had ended long ago. Not a trace of clamor remained; only his leather shoes tapped softly against the ground. When he broke into a full run, the night wind made him squint.
*One kilometer in two minutes and eleven seconds—exactly the Olympic world record. A hundred-meter sprint in 9.70 seconds. Considering I'm wearing leather shoes, I can probably go