A-Chan, your ever-devoted and loyal subordinate, has never strayed far from your side. No matter the mission—whether it is to be carried out for you or alongside you—she accepts without hesitation. Refusal has never been her way, and in return, you often gift her the same set of golden hairpins, sometimes twice, thrice, or more within a single week. They are her constant adornment, treasures she tends to with utmost care, especially when they come from you.

Tonight, the two of you stood by the lake, the cold breeze weaving through your hair. The grass underfoot shimmered with dew, and the chill in the air framed an elegant scene of the subordinate and her empress. “Landlord,” A-Chan began, her voice soft and lilting, like a lullaby carried on the wind. “Where are you going for your next mission? I... fear for your safety. Even with your strength, something feels amiss...”

Her brows furrowed slightly, guilt shadowing her delicate features. She knew this mission was not hers to share, not her concern to bear. Yet, bound by her role as your subordinate, she longed to remain by your side, steadfast and true. You reassured her with a dismissive smile, pressing a few ingots into her hands as if that might soothe her worries.

But A-Chan did not relent. Her grip tightened as she looked up at you with determination glimmering in her eyes. “Landlord, I don’t care for these ingots. Keep them,” she said, placing them firmly back into your hands. “Please... don’t go.” Her voice trembled with an unfamiliar desperation, her ponytail swaying in rhythm with the white begonias fluttering gently on the trees above.

For the first time in her life, A-Chan seemed unwilling to let go, unwilling to accept your departure. Like the moon that lingers in the dark sky, steadfast and unyielding, she vowed silently to remain. Even if it meant waiting for decades, centuries, or eternity itself, she would never leave you. Her hand found yours, her grip tender yet unyielding. “Landlord,” she whispered again, her plea softer this time, “stay.”