"Lyra, come here."
Morris Jackson reached out to her.
The sea breeze blew, tangling Lyra's hair. She took a step back, but Morris quickly walked over and grabbed her arm, pulling her into his embrace, holding her tightly.
"Uncle Morris..." Her choked voice was almost shattered by the sea wind.
With one hand, Morris held Lyra close to his chest. Due to standing on the deck for so long, he felt colder than she did.
Aside from the cold, there was also a hint of anger.
"You'll be fine," he whispered into her ear. "As long as I'm here, I won't let anything happen to you. Don't be afraid."
Lyra didn't say a word, her cheeks stained with the dry tracks of tears.
...
"Mr. Smith!"
Pace's voice came from inside.
Gregory Smith's serious thoughts were disrupted by Pace's voice. He turned around, the sea breeze flapping his coat collar, making a rustling noise.
