"The princess of Mowish is quite fond of him," said the old lady from the Church of the Goddess of Harvest, glancing at her old friend by her side.
"It's obvious, just look at how they are sticking to each other like glue. It reminds me of Jack and me when we were young," the old lady remarked with a sigh.
"There you go, thinking of him again," the Bishop sighed, extending his hand to pat his old friend's back. "How much longer will you speak his name, my old friend?"
"Perhaps until the day I go to meet him, which shouldn't be too far off," the old lady said with a smile. "I've been growing weaker lately."
"Do not..." "Sera, it's the destiny of every mortal. We grow, we mature, we age, and in the end, we face death peacefully and return to the River of Mana," the old lady turned around. "Sera, I'll go to Jack first and convey your longing to him in full."
Then, she reached out to embrace her old friend, "Don't cry, do not shed tears in front of the younger generation."
