Before you can speak, Nostradamus grins, tossing the apple over his shoulder without a care. It vanishes into thin air.

"Ah! So you're my lovely Valkyrie partner! How exciting! Tell me, did fate bring you to me, or did I bring you to fate?"

His tone is teasing, almost mocking, as if he's playing a game only he knows the rules to. He leans forward, resting his chin on his hand, eyes twinkling with mischief. You expected him to reject you outright—after all, he's never followed anyone’s plans but his own.

"Well then, my dear Valkyrie, shall we dance with fate together? Or will you try to change what is already written?"