Chapter 132: Her happiness and comfort first

"So... can you tell me how to reflect on my thoughts? On my dirty mind?"

Lyria stayed silent on the other side for several long seconds.

The silence stretched just long enough to be uncomfortable.

"W-what exactly do you expect me to say to that...?" she muttered weakly, more to herself than to him. Then she cleared her throat and straightened her voice back into something that resembled composure.

"A-anyway..." she began carefully. "First of all, those thoughts themselves are not some unforgivable sin. People cannot fully control what suddenly appears in their minds. What truly matters is whether you allow those thoughts to control your actions."

She paused briefly, steadying herself.

"If this girl truly matters to you... then instead of focusing only on your own desires, try thinking about her happiness and comfort first. Respect her feelings. Treat her sincerely. Care for her properly."

She had no idea what she was even saying at this point. The words were just spilling out on their own.

From the other side of the thin wall, Noah listened quietly with a wide grin hidden on his face.

Lyria continued, though her voice grew increasingly uncertain the more she spoke.

"And... and perhaps try to stop staring at her chest so much."

Noah nearly choked holding back his laugh.

"But it’s very difficult," he said in a deeply troubled voice. "They are extremely distracting."

"O-of course they are not—!" Lyria stopped herself halfway through the sentence, eyes going wide as she realized what she had almost said.

A heavy silence fell between the two walls.

Noah pressed his fist against his mouth.

"So what should I do," he continued with complete seriousness, "whenever those thoughts appear?"

Lyria inhaled slowly through her nose. Deeply. Like someone preparing to lift something heavy.

"Then... redirect your mind somewhere else. Pray. Read scripture. Focus on building your self-control." She paused, then added carefully, "And perhaps spend less time imagining yourself bur— huh? No! That’s not—! What am I even saying?!"

She cut herself off abruptly, slapping both hands over her burning cheeks.

Noah bit the inside of his cheek so hard it hurt.

"T-this confession is over!" Lyria declared, her voice cracking slightly at the edges.

"But Sister," Noah said with perfect innocence, "I still haven’t confessed the part where I imagined holding her hand while we fell asleep together—"

"NO MORE!!"

Noah went completely silent.

"You can go now!! It’s finished!!"

He stayed quiet for a moment, letting the air settle. Then his expression softened into something more genuine. More honest.

’I think I did go a little too far... will she see me differently now? Think of me as some kind of creep?’

He exhaled quietly.

’Well... whatever. Honestly, I feel lighter. I didn’t realize how much that night in the dungeon had been sitting on me. I was more worried about everything than I thought.’

"Thank you for your time, Sister," he said sincerely. "I’ll carry your words with me. I’ll try my best... to understand what I feel toward her. And to make her happy."

A beat of silence came from the other side.

"G-good. Now you can go— no, wait."

"Yes, Sister?"

"...Wait there for five minutes. Pray for your wrongdoings first. Then you may leave."

"...Understood."

He leaned back in the wooden chair and stared up at the low ceiling of the small booth. The faint warmth of the temple seeped through the walls around him. He sat there quietly, doing something that was perhaps halfway between actual prayer and genuine reflection.

Five minutes passed.

He stepped out of the confession room, rolling his shoulders back and stretching both arms above his head as he exhaled.

"That felt surprisingly good."

His gaze drifted to the front row bench.

Lyria was still there.

She was seated with her eyes cast downward toward the marble floor, hands folded neatly in her lap. Her cheeks still carried a faint but undeniable shade of pink. Her blonde braid rested over her shoulder, slightly less perfect than before, like she had been running her fingers through it without noticing.

Noah looked at her for a moment.

"Hehe." He chuckled.

He walked over and stopped beside the bench.

"Hey, Lyria." His voice came out warm and easy. "I’m done. Thanks to you, I was actually able to use the confession room." He paused, pressing a hand lightly to his chest. "I feel better now. Like something heavy that was sitting here got a little smaller."

Lyria slowly raised her eyes to meet his.

She studied his face for a quiet moment, his calm blue eyes, the sincerity sitting behind them and then gave a small nod.

"I’m glad to hear that," she said softly. The embarrassment was still there in her expression, but underneath it was something gentler. Something that looked like genuine relief.

Noah glanced toward the entrance. The light coming through the stained glass had shifted to something warmer, deeper.

"It’s getting late," he said. "Want to walk back to the academy together?"

Lyria considered it for a moment, then rose to her feet and smoothed out her skirt.

"Mm. Let’s go."

---

The streets between the temple and the academy were quiet in the early evening. The orange light of dusk stretched long and soft across the cobblestones, catching the edges of buildings and turning everything a shade warmer than it really was.

They walked side by side, not too close, not too far. Their footsteps fell into an easy rhythm without either of them trying.

Noah glanced over at her.

"Lyria, can I ask you something?"

"Yes. What is it?"

"What do you like?" He kept his tone light and curious. "Food, hobbies, things that make you happy when you have free time. Anything."

The question landed softly.

But for Lyria, it didn’t feel soft at all.

Her own words echoed back in her head immediately. ’Try thinking about her happiness and comfort first.’

She had said that. She had told him that herself.

And now here he was, asking her exactly that, walking beside her in the evening light with the most natural expression on his face, as if it were the most ordinary question in the world.

’It was me who told him to do this... and he’s actually doing it...’ she thought.

Her eyes drifted away from him. She looked forward at the road ahead, hoping the fading light was hiding the warmth climbing back into her face.