Listening to Monica's words laced with admiration, Lyra politely nodded, raised her hand, and clinked her wine glass against Monica's.
"Miss Monica flatters me."
Whether she was overthinking or not, Lyra couldn't help but feel that Monica seemed truly delighted by her victory, this obvious anticipation even surpassing her support for Iris.
The sincerity in Monica's praise, or the frequency with which she brought up the match, were effective evidence of this.
After all, this Saintess of Light was from the Kingdom of Velys, while Iris was the kingdom's princess; they were compatriots, so Monica should logically have stood on Iris's side.
The transparent wine glasses clinked in midair, disturbing the previously calm surface of the liquid inside. Monica took a sip of red wine, her delicate lips becoming even more rosy than before.
"I hope Miss Lyra, no, I should now call you Baroness Lyra, can continue shining as brilliantly as you did yesterday."
