Prologue
There should have been a pulsing sound like it was spring.
It would be nice if there was a sweet scent like confectionery, too.
If I were a wealthy girl, I would have worn a lovely dress and changed my hairstyle. It was supposed to be such a dreamy thing.
Stacking a set of suspiciously thick books, my incredibly handsome childhood friend deeply furrowed his eyebrows. With his face looking like an ogre that hadn’t eaten for 3 days. He said,
“I want to be loved.”
Hearing his voice, which sounded like a ghost crawling out from the depths of the earth, sent shivers down my spine and made me wonder what was about to begin.
—From “a reminiscence of a certain pitiful knight”
