Margaret stood with clenched fists, staring down at her comrade—her junior, her best friend, Johanna Raylin.
"...."
A person she had known for nine years.
A person whose growth she had witnessed since Johanna's first year.
A person she had supported through the grueling Crusader License examination.
A person she had given a future to.
The one she always turned to when faced with problems she couldn't grasp.
"...."
Memories flooded her mind.
The times they played League of Spirits together, laughing through their victories and groaning through their defeats.
The way Johanna always teased her for being terrible at cosmetics, helping her experiment with different shades of lipstick or eyeshadow.
The countless nights they stayed up, exchanging stories. Margaret venting about her responsibilities and Johanna listening in like a little sister.
The way Johanna always brought her coffee every morning, muttering that Margaret would probably collapse if left to her own devices.
