She obediently didn't pry into this secret, shaking her head as she told Gregory Smith, "This isn't suffering. Although my parents aren't here and you guys keep appearing and disappearing, as long as I know you all are well, I can be at peace. This isn't suffering at all."
Moved by her words, Gregory touched her cheek: "So obedient it breaks my heart."
Lyra slapped his hand away without any mercy: "I'm twenty-three, not three. Why are you still pinching my face?"
Gregory's expression was amusing: "I forgot that our little Lyra has become an adult. But you will always be the sister I cherish, whether you're thirty-three, fifty-three, seventy-three, or even one hundred and three."
Lyra snorted arrogantly, her vivid expression barely contained: "At one hundred and three, will you even still be alive? The grass on our graves will be as tall as me by then!"
Gregory: "..."
