The climate of Delcross was relatively mild for an inland area. Especially in the clear autumn air, with its greatly reduced humidity, there was something that stimulated both clear intellect and abundant emotions at the same time.
—You promise me a beautiful sky.
Whispering like a bird that you will give me shining stars.
But I want only one thing in the world.
That is, your soul, like a gem.
Scribble scribble.
A playwright, who had been immersed in the autumn sentiment and worked all night, put down her quill as the sunlight seeping through the curtains grew stronger.
“If I write just a little more, I can finish the first act. Ugh…”
Unfortunately, it seemed that today’s work would end here. When she started to get annoyed by the fact that she couldn’t hold the quill equally with both hands, it meant that her concentration for the day was completely over.
“Hmm.”
The playwright twisted her waist and neck here and there, then quickly skimmed through what she had written so far.
“…It seems like it will proceed interestingly enough, but since the protagonist is a puppet, it might be a bit risky?”
The [Song of the Puppet]…