Chapter 86: The boss is not a bad person

And she—

Was just their stepping stone.

Freya’s fingers slowly tightened, gripping the fabric at her chest.

“Boss?”

A groggy voice came from the floor bedding.

Freya turned her head.

Lyra was looking at her with half-open eyes.

Those red eyes still held the haze of sleep, but they were already tinged with a layer of worry.

“What’s wrong?”

She sat up.

“Bad dream?”

Freya looked at her.

Looked at that sleepy face, at that slightly exposed little wolf fang, at those red eyes filled with concern.

She was silent for a long time.

Then she gave a slight nod.

“…Mm.”

Lyra rubbed her eyes, got up, and walked to her bedside.

Squatted down.

Looked up at her.

“Dreams aren’t real—”

She said.

“Don’t be afraid.”

Freya looked at her.

Looked at those earnest eyes.

Looked at that silly, yet reassuring face.

“I know.”

She said softly.

Lyra grinned.

She reached out and took Freya’s hand resting by the bed.

That hand was a bit cold.

She cupped it with both hands, warming it little by little.

“I’m right here—”

She said.

“No one can bully you.”

Freya didn’t speak.

But she held Lyra’s hand and didn’t let go.

Outside the window, the night deepened.

In the distance, an owl hooted.

This night was still long.

But she knew, she wasn’t alone.

Lyra’s hand was warm.

Those small, slightly calloused hands enveloped Freya’s cool fingertips in their palms, transferring warmth little by little.

Freya looked down at her.

Looked at her squatting posture by the bed, at her red eyes slightly squinting from drowsiness, at that little wolf fang faintly visible in the dim light.

“Go back to sleep.”

Her voice was very soft.

Lyra shook her head.

“No.”

She said stubbornly.

“I’ll stay here with you.”

Freya was silent for a moment.

Then she shifted over on the bed, making a small space.

“Come up.”

Lyra froze.

She blinked, then blinked again, as if she hadn’t heard clearly.

“Boss?”

“Come up.”

Freya repeated.

“The floor is cold.”

Lyra’s eyes instantly lit up.

She sprang to her feet, moving as fast as a squirrel scrambling up a tree, and dove into Freya’s bed.

Then she froze.

“Boss, your bed smells so nice…”

She whispered, her voice muffled, as if afraid to disturb something.

Freya didn’t speak.

She just lay back down, looking at the ceiling.

Lyra curled up beside her, like a small animal that had found its den, cautiously, little by little, moving closer to her.

Finally, her head rested against Freya’s shoulder and she stopped moving.

“Boss—”

She asked softly.

“What did you dream about?”

Freya was silent for a long time.

So long that Lyra thought she wouldn’t answer.

Then, she spoke.

“Dreamed about some…

things from the past.”

Lyra blinked.

“Things from the past?

Why would that scare you?”

Freya didn’t answer.

Lyra thought for a moment, then asked again.

“Were they very bad things?”

“…Mm.”

Lyra fell silent.

Then she reached out and hugged Freya’s arm.

“Those were just dreams.”

She said, her voice as serious as if making a vow.

“They weren’t real.”

Freya turned her head to look at her.

In the dim light, those red eyes were bright, brimming with sincerity.

She suddenly remembered Irina, who stood beside Ross at the end of that dream.

Remembered the triumphant smile in those pink eyes.

Remembered the people kneeling on the ground, the deafening cheers, that grand and ironic wedding.

Her fingers tightened slightly.

“Lyra.”

“Yeah?”

“If one day—”

Freya paused.

“Someone told you I was a bad person, would you believe it?”

Lyra was taken aback.

Then she frowned.

“Who said that?”

“Hypothetically.”

“There’s no ‘hypothetically.'”

Lyra said firmly.

“Boss isn’t a bad person.”

“How do you know?”

Lyra looked at her.

Looked for a long time.

Then she reached out and pointed to her own chest.

“Here knows.”

She said.

“It tells me Boss is a good person.”

Freya looked at her.

Looked at that earnest face, looked at those pure, unadulterated red eyes.

She was silent for a long time.

Then she reached out and gently ruffled that fluffy head.

“Sleep.”

Lyra nuzzled her hand, closed her eyes contentedly.

“Goodnight, Boss.”

“…Goodnight.”

Outside the window, the night deepened.

In a distant window, a figure stood by the window, looking in this direction.

But that gaze was blocked by thick curtains.

The next morning, when Freya woke up, she found the space beside her empty.

She sat up and looked at the floor bedding.

The quilt was neatly folded, the cushion straightened, the pillow fluffed up.

The sound of water came from the washroom.

Freya lowered her gaze.

Last night’s dream was still clearly imprinted in her mind.

Ross’s face, Irina’s smile, the kneeling crowds, that grand wedding.

And finally, that look Irina gave her.

That look seemed to say—

I won.

Freya closed her eyes.

Took a deep breath.

When she opened them again, those light purple eyes no longer held the lingering vulnerability from last night.

Only a deep, fathomless calm.

The washroom door opened.

Lyra poked her head out, her hair damp, water droplets still on her face.

“Boss! You’re awake!”

She bounced out and dove onto the floor bedding, starting to flip through the Monster Bestiary.

“No classes today! Where should we go?”

Freya looked at her.

Looked at that face always full of energy.

“Where do you want to go?”

Lyra tilted her head in thought.

“The training ground?”

She said.

“I want to watch you train!”

Freya nodded.

“Alright.”

When they stepped out of the dormitory building, the sunlight was just right.

The autumn sky was clear as if washed, with a few white clouds drifting leisurely.

Lyra walked beside Freya, holding the Monster Bestiary, flipping through it from time to time.

When they reached a corridor corner, they ran into a few people head-on.

At the front was Ross.

He stood in the middle of the path, his golden hair gleaming in the sunlight.

Seeing Freya, his footsteps faltered.

His lips moved, as if he wanted to say something.

But Freya didn’t give him the chance.

She sidestepped, walking past him.

Without stopping.

Without a glance.

As if passing an irrelevant stranger.

Ross’s expression changed.

He turned around, looking at that receding light purple figure.

“Freya!”

His voice came from behind.

Freya didn’t stop.

Ross quickened his pace, blocking her path.

“What do you mean by this?”

His voice held suppressed anger.

“Yesterday you went out to eat with that exchange student, today you walk away when you see me—

What exactly do you take me for?”

Freya stopped walking.

She looked at him.

Looked at that handsome face, now full of anger and confusion.

She remembered the relieved smile on that face in last night’s dream.

She remembered him holding the Holy Sword, standing beside Irina.

She remembered the happiness in his eyes when he looked at Irina during the final wedding.

“Your Highness.”

Her voice was very calm.

“What do you take me for?”

Ross was stunned.

Freya looked at him.

“Every time you appear before me, you say ‘I care about you,’ ‘I’m good to you.'”

She paused.

“But everything you do is helping others deal with me.”

Ross’s face changed.

“I didn’t—”

“The Mutual Aid Society’s permissions, you approved them, right?”

Ross’s words caught in his throat.

Freya continued, her tone as calm as if stating a fact.

“The training ground usage rights, you helped Irina get them, right?”

“She needed help, I—”

“She needed help—”

Freya interrupted him.

“You helped her. That’s not wrong.”

She looked at him.

“But after helping her, you come to me and say you care about me.”

Ross’s lips tightened.

“You think—”

Freya’s voice was very soft.

“What should I feel?”

Silence.

A long silence.

Ross stood there, motionless.

His face churned with complex emotions—

Anger, embarrassment, and a trace of something he didn’t want to admit…

Guilt.

Freya stopped looking at him.

She sidestepped, walking past him.

This time, he didn’t stop her.

Lyra followed beside Freya. As she passed Ross, she glanced back at him.

That glance held no anger, no hostility.

Only a look of near-pity, the look one gives a fool.

Then she withdrew her gaze and caught up to Freya’s pace.

After walking quite far, Lyra suddenly spoke.

“Boss.”

“Mm.”

“That blondie…”

She paused.

“Does he have something wrong with his head?”

Freya’s footsteps faltered slightly.

She didn’t speak.

But the corner of her mouth held a faint, fleeting curve.

Lyra saw it.

She grinned, her eyes curving into crescents.

“Boss smiled!”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You did!”

“You saw wrong.”

“I didn’t see wrong! Boss, you smiled!”

Their voices gradually faded into the distance, disappearing into the sunlight.

—

In the distance, in the shadow of a classroom building, someone withdrew their gaze.

Irina stood behind a pillar, her pink eyes deep as a pond.

She had seen the scene just now.

Seen Ross rendered speechless by Freya.

Seen Freya walk past him without looking back.

Seen that white-haired girl’s pitying glance when she looked back.

Her fingers slowly tightened.

Digging into her palms.

But her face showed no anger.

Only a heavy, deep contemplation.

Freya’s attitude today was different from before.

Before, she was just distant, just cold.

But today—

Today, there was something new in her eyes.

Not disgust.

Not wariness.

But—

Something deeper that Irina couldn’t understand.

As if she knew something.

Or as if—

She was waiting for something.

Irina’s brow furrowed slightly.

She thought about the events of the past few days.

Serar’s sudden appearance.

Freya going out to eat with him.

And today, the things she said to Ross.

What exactly had happened?

What had she missed?

The wind blew through the corridor, sweeping up a few fallen leaves.

Irina stood where she was, looking at the figure that had long since disappeared.