“Don’t dodge the question. Something happened. Trouble with the other crafters?”
“That’s not it. Challe, come on, move.”
“I’ll move as soon as you tell me why you’re crying.”
“Why…! It’s because you’re—!”
“I’m what?”
Anne looked startled by the words that had come out of her own mouth. She turned bright red. Tears began to fill her eyes again.
“What did I do?”
He asked as gently as he could so as not to make her cry. Anne suddenly covered her face with both hands.
“Show me your face. Talk to me.”
Challe softly grasped Anne’s wrists, trying to get her to look at him. But Anne was stubborn and didn’t move her hands at all.
“Anne. Talk to me.”
Her shoulders trembled terribly. She was crying so hard she couldn’t speak. Challe hadn’t the faintest idea what was causing her tears, but he wanted her to stop.
“Don’t cry.”
He wanted to hold her. He tried to keep the urge under control, but it grew so strong he couldn’t fight it.
“Anne…”
Can’t stand this.
He was just about to make his move when it happened.
“A—a love scene—?!”
He heard an unbelievably loud voice behind his back.
Even Challe was shocked enough to sit up and look in the direction of the voice. Still heaving with sobs, Anne looked toward the voice from the gaps between her fingers, and her tear-drenched eyes went wide.
“Mithril Lid Pod?!”
“Mithril Lid Pod?!”
Challe and Anne shouted simultaneously.
The door to the room was ever so slightly ajar. Peeking in at them through the gap was a little fairy with blue eyes and silver hair. There was no mistaking it—this was the lake water droplet fairy, Mithril Lid Pod.
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