Astraea smiled faintly and gracefully stood up from Akira's lap, smoothing her skirt with elegant fingers. Her expression softened but behind her eyes was something playfully dangerous.
"Well, now that we've talked about that…" she began, her tone sweet as honey yet filled with hidden thorns. "Let's talk about Lyra, shall we?"
Akira nearly choked on air. He coughed, awkwardly scratching the back of his head as he tried to act innocent. "A-Ah, Sister Lyra? What about her?"
He attempted to keep his voice calm, but the slight pitch at the end betrayed the ripple of nerves beneath the surface.
Astraea narrowed her eyes with a mischievous gleam. "You know exactly what I mean. Don't play dumb with me."
She gave him a coy smirk, enjoying his discomfort.
"…Still, I didn't expect Lyra to be the one to use all her skills first."
There was a teasing lilt to her words, but her divine gaze was sharp and perceptive.
From the moment she saw the two of them that morning, she had noticed the shift in atmosphere—the subtle change in Lyra's temperament, the flicker in Akira's expression.
As a goddess who had watched humanity for eons, Astraea didn't need a confession. She knew.
Seeing that she was already aware, Akira simply gave up on pretending. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, his lips twitching in a wry smile. "Well… I knew it would happen eventually. I just didn't expect Lyra to be that… proactive."
Astraea raised an eyebrow. A glint of curiosity shimmered in her eyes. "Oh? So you really did…"
She paused there, intentionally leaving the words hanging, the air around them growing just a touch more charged.
"…Yeah." Akira admitted with a nod, surprisingly frank.
Even the eternally tolerant Astraea was momentarily stunned by how casually he admitted it. Her brows twitched.
Was this boy always like this, or has he been corrupted?
She recalled the first time they had met—how he was such an innocent, sincere child.
And now… he looked like someone whose shamelessness was just a hair thinner than the planet's crust.
A sigh escaped her lips. She reached out and gently pressed a finger against Akira's forehead, her gaze carrying a mixture of helplessness and love. "They're all good girls, Akira. You can't break their hearts."
The soft glow of light through the window painted her features with an ethereal beauty, like a flower blooming under divine radiance.
Moved, Akira reached forward, his fingers curling around her wrist. He leaned in and pressed a light, lingering kiss to her lips.
Astraea blinked, momentarily caught off guard, but quickly closed her eyes and melted into the kiss.
Her breath was soft, like the wind that caressed the treetops in early spring. The subtle fragrance of her hair twined around him, gentle and intoxicating.
After a moment, Akira pulled back, his voice steady. "I know. I won't let you or anyone down, Astraea."
There was no trace of hesitation in his tone.
Astraea gazed at him with a strange expression—equal parts touched and exasperated.
It really is my fault, isn't it?
I spoiled him, filled his head with nonsense, kept teasing him… and now his standards are so high he's completely ruined.
She thumped an imaginary table in her heart.
This is all on me!
Though she maintained her calm outward appearance, Astraea's divine mind was in turmoil.
This kind of "hero development" was way too hard to manage.
"That's good then." She said softly, as if giving up on controlling the chaos.
With both hands, she suddenly grabbed Akira's cheeks and squeezed them, her tone becoming serious.
"But one more thing."
"What's that?" Akira asked, blinking as he tilted his head.
Astraea's grip tightened slightly, her face drawing closer. Her expression was one of rare seriousness.
"You're still young, Akira. And as your goddess, I don't want you to fall into indulgence like those male gods. Do you understand?"
Her tone was low and commanding. Her eyes locked onto his, filled with warning.
Akira nodded like an obedient child, earnest on the surface. Of course, whether or not he'd actually restrain himself would depend on the future.
'As long as I don't say it out loud, it's not a lie.' Akira consoled himself.
Astraea, of course, saw right through him.
'Is this what it feels like to raise a rebellious son?' She thought bitterly.
How amazing…
She said, composing herself again, "Well then, I won't disturb you anymore. Go do what you need to."
She leaned down and kissed his forehead with tender affection, her voice soft and brimming with love. "I will always support you."
— — —
Taking a deep breath, Akira stepped once more into the old church.
The weathered stone walls were etched with cracks, the air thick with the scent of dust and time. The solemn silence weighed down on his shoulders.
Last time, it had been that woman, shrouded in silence, who had waited here. But now, sitting on the same chair in the center of the crumbling church, was a man over two meters tall. He was like a statue carved from unyielding iron.
A massive cloak draped over his hulking frame, yet it still seemed too small to contain the immense bulk beneath. The seams stretched under the strain, as if about to burst.
The brim of his hood dipped low, hiding the rugged features beneath. But even without seeing his face, the pressure he exuded was crushing. Like a mountain resting in human form.
Resting beside him, leaned casually against the floor, was a greatsword that resembled a black slab of iron. Its aura was chilling, soaked in death and blood.
The man's deep, gravelly voice shattered the silence. "As I told Alfia… I knew you'd come back."
His words echoed through the desolate church, each syllable laced with age and weight.
Akira's brows twitched. From his tone, it was clear this man knew Alfia.
As Akira focused more intently, he felt it—the same overwhelming presence as Alfia… but beneath it, a fragile flicker of life, like a flame gasping for air.
A body near collapse.
There was no doubt in his mind.
This man could only be—
Akira stepped forward and gently patted the worn bench beside the towering figure, raising a small cloud of dust before slowly sitting down.
He turned his head, eyes calm yet sharp. "You're Zald, Gluttony, aren't you?"
"Huh? I didn't expect it to be exposed this quickly… It's all that idiot's fault for blurting out her real name. Now even I'm caught up in the mess."
The man—no, the warrior known as Zald, grumbled as he lowered his hood.
His unruly, rouge-colored hair fell like a mane, wild and untamed. His eyes, a stormy grey, carried a sharp chill that made it hard to meet them directly. And above those piercing eyes were several hideous scars—jagged, uneven, as though clawed by some savage beast. They added a ferocious air to his already intimidating presence, casting a shadow of mystery over his rugged features.
"Yes, I'm Zald." He said openly, his tone flat and unbothered, as if concealing his identity had never even crossed his mind.
Akira: "…"