"Miss Black Swan, won't you join us for a stroll?"
After a "friendly, gentle, and understanding" discussion and negotiation with Black Swan, the trio emerged from the ballroom.
As they gazed upon the dreamlike scenery of Penacony's streets, Black Swan quickly offered her farewells.
Lumina, reluctant to part with Black Swan's radiant smile, tried to persuade her to stay.
"Hehehe, Miss Lumina, I'm equally reluctant to leave you. I'd love to explore Penacony with you both."
"Alas, I have urgent matters to attend to, so I must reluctantly part ways with you."
Black Swan had reverted to her usual elegant and confident demeanor, making it impossible to believe that the composed figure before them was the same woman who had just received back-to-back lessons from Acheron and Lumina.
"I see," Lumina nodded, a hint of regret in her expression.
"In that case, may you successfully complete your mission, Miss Black Swan," she added.
"Well then, I hope our next encounter will be as pleasant and enjoyable as this one."
Lumina chuckled lightly, waved goodbye, and bid farewell to Black Swan.
Black Swan: ...
Upon hearing this, Black Swan's expression froze, and her elegant smile nearly faltered. However, she quickly regained her composure, smiled faintly, and waved goodbye.
"Heh heh heh... Yes, yes, Miss Lumina, Miss Acheron, goodbye."
With that, Black Swan immediately turned and left, as if eager to put as much distance as possible between herself and Acheron and Lumina.
"Hmph, honestly, making us sound like some kind of Demon Lords." Watching Black Swan's hurried retreat, Lumina sighed, took out a small mirror, and checked her reflection, examining herself to see if she had transformed into a Demon Lord.
Hmm... still the same beautiful... (omitting ten thousand positive adjectives)... beautiful girl.
Satisfied that her appearance remained unchanged and as beautiful as ever, Lumina put the mirror away, moved closer to Acheron, and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her.
Seeing Acheron still deep in thought, Lumina nudged her arm with her elbow. "Snap out of it! Is there anywhere you want to go?"
"... ..."
Acheron remained silent, lost in contemplation.
Seeing this, Lumina didn't interrupt her. She stood beside her, waiting patiently for Acheron to finish thinking.
The two incredibly beautiful girls stood openly on the streets of Penacony, yet drew no attention whatsoever.
Acheron quietly pondered, Lumina quietly waited—the pair formed a breathtakingly still tableau...
In the next moment, a gentle breeze stirred, lifting strands of their hair. White and purple locks intertwined, blending into a color that was neither white nor purple.
It was a new hue, the color of friendship...
"Ah, the Annihilation Gang... those guys."
Acheron's thoughts soon concluded, and the frozen painting began to move.
The color of "Friendship" gradually began to radiate a unique light, one that belonged solely to the two of them.
"Miss Lumina, what are your thoughts on Self-Annihilators—or rather, on me?"
As they strolled through the streets of Penacony, Acheron suddenly asked Lumina.
"What do I think of Self-Annihilators? And what do I think of you, Acheron?"
"Well, if this question is too personal, I..."
"Not at all," Lumina chuckled softly, but she didn't answer Acheron's question directly. Instead, she glanced at the bustling crowds around them and asked, "Before I answer, Miss Acheron, how do you view these people around us?"
"The people?" Acheron paused, clearly surprised by Lumina's question.
After surveying the surroundings and pondering for a moment, she replied, "Whether organic or inorganic, they all possess joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure. They're just ordinary people striving to live their lives."
"Hmm." Lumina nodded gently, then met Acheron's gaze. Their eyes locked, and she said, "So, my thoughts on Self-Annihilators—and on you, Acheron—align perfectly with your assessment."
"Ordinary people have their own missions, and Self-Annihilators have theirs. Perhaps your origins differ, your experiences diverge, and the paths you tread are distinct, but... you all share the same ultimate goal."
"Whether ordinary people or Self-Annihilators, aren't we all just people striving tirelessly for a brighter tomorrow in this dazzling Cosmos?"
"Returning to your earlier question: what are my thoughts on Self-Annihilators and you, Acheron?"
"My answer is..." Lumina paused deliberately, observing Acheron's expression before continuing, "I have no thoughts at all~♪"
"I don't separate Self-Annihilators or you, Acheron, from humanity. Therefore, I naturally have no specific views on Self-Annihilators or you~♪"
"Is that so?" Acheron murmured, slightly surprised by this response.
To maintain such a mindset while facing near-universal hostility toward Nihility was truly beyond Acheron's expectations.
What a gentle soul...
Gazing at Lumina's exquisite face, Acheron couldn't help but sigh inwardly.
"But you're gentle too, aren't you?"
Though meant as an internal reflection, the words slipped out unintentionally.
Hearing this, Lumina shifted closer to Acheron.
"Even though you hide it... no, even though Nihility's influence makes it difficult for you to express your emotions..."
"But I can still sense it within you, Acheron—that emotion buried deep in your heart, the one we call tenderness."
Lumina leaned closer, feeling Acheron's breath, and smiled that familiar, gentle smile that Acheron recognized.
"..."
Acheron stared blankly at the breathtaking beauty of that infinitely tender smile, lost in thought. Memories long devoured by the Nihility slowly began to resurface...
"Perhaps."
Snapping back to reality, Acheron glanced at Lumina before giving an ambiguous reply. She strode past Lumina and continued down the street alone.
Tenderness?
Though Acheron gave a vague answer aloud, the slight upturn of her lips—hidden beneath her hair, shadowed by the Nihility—told a different story...
No matter how much time passed, no matter how much the Nihility consumed, that buried emotion within Acheron's heart still radiated its unique light in the pitch-black night.
Perhaps this emotion had become foreign to Acheron over time, yet even now, she could still clearly recall its name—
Tenderness.