Naoko raised an eyebrow at Orson, glancing over at Snow Dream. "I don't care about the items," she said, a mocking smile tugging at her lips. "I just want to drag her down with me."
Orson froze for a moment. Snow Dream turned her cold gaze toward Naoko, her voice as sharp as ever. "We're not friends, and I have no idea where you're getting all this hostility from."
Naoko laughed, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. "I heard you once admired my undefeated Sorcerer. So, how about I just let you die? How does that sound?"
Her tone was unnerving, bordering on insane.
Orson rubbed his temples, feeling the headache coming on. At a time like this, they still had the energy to argue?
Snow Dream's expression was unreadable, but she couldn't hide the faint smirk that curled at the corners of her lips. "Admired you? Maybe, but someone like me isn't worthy of such things. And what exactly gives you the right to talk down to me?"
