Notification in the Hangar

In the brief silence that felt as long as a century, as every crew member had been swept into the lonely drift of this torrent of choice, Murrue's stern yet resolute bearing suddenly softened in a subtle way, and her voice quietly flowed into the gentleness of a babbling stream.

The deliberate coldness and distance from before rapidly melted away, exposing the captain's inner tenderness before everyone without defense—

"Lastly, let me say something to all of you."

In a low, gentle voice she had almost never revealed before, tinged with something close to apology and self-reproach, there seemed to be a faint, trembling grievance. Captain Murrue lowered her gaze slightly, her eyelashes shimmering like pearly frost beneath the sunlight.

Her straight shoulders sagged for an instant as if burdened by invisible pressure, then stiffened upright again. Yet that fleeting motion was enough to reveal a thread of genuine vulnerability.

"Thank you for following an unreliable captain like me all the way to this day—"

Having said that, regardless of her dignity as a commander and without time to maintain any of a captain's authority or restraint, she deeply—almost somewhat frantically—bowed the head she had always stubbornly held high and proudly faced forward, amid everyone's astonished and complicated gazes.

Unreliable—Perhaps she really is,

Mu murmured quietly to himself as he observed everything from the side, his voice carrying understanding and an imperceptible gentle smile.

Mu's gaze pierced through the air and fell directly upon that slender back, tougher than any armor yet more fragile than any armor.

Yes, this captain had repeatedly fallen into the bewilderment of a trapped beast along the way. Nor had she always marched steadily along paths opened by those before her; she had constantly faced the doubts of the unknown.

Yet it was precisely because