Louis reached out to take the tray, smiling at her with his eyes: "Isn't it because someone got up early to prepare this for me?"
"Hmph, sweet-talking." She pouted, sitting next to him, and picked up a piece of jam bread, taking a bite and chewing it seriously.
The two ate silently, the atmosphere warm and leisurely for a moment.
"By the way," Louis suddenly spoke midway through the meal, "the Barbarian Race area has started fighting again."
Sif's hand, holding the fork, paused, her expression slightly somber.
"...Mm." She responded softly, lowering her eyes.
Louis looked at her, his expression unmoving, yet he was carefully observing every nuance of her reaction.
Two years ago, she had already told him about her identity, the last princess of the Cold Moon Tribe.
She still hated those enemies who killed her father and destroyed her clan, but even now she hadn't discovered who had made the move or which blade had taken her father's head.
