Prologue: The main character won’t make an entrance by falling down from the roof
The hand extended toward the golden haired girl.
It belonged to a black haired youth, and felt a little rough and was the grip was strong, which reminded the girl a little of her father who had passed away, though her own father would never point a sword at her…
The youth stared at the girl silently with his black eyes, and not a shred of warmth could be detected from his face.
Astonishment filled the girl’s astounding sapphire blue eyes while the royal insignia on her chest dimmed.
The youth wielded a special sword in his other hand which gave off a pure white light as it pointed downwards, as though it were surrounded by a faint halo of light that was especially striking in the dark night.
Innumerable corpses lay around them, and the continuous waves of cannon fire had stopped some time ago. Only several shouts from soldiers could be heard now and then.
Broken swords and rifles marked the graves of fallen soldiers on the battlefield as tattered flags swayed in the wind which carried the thick smell of blood.
“Haha… Haha…”
— The youth was laughing?
The youth was indeed laughing, as he sheathed his strange sword with a single smooth movement, leaving a white silhouette in the air.
“Welcome to France, my fair lady.”
…
“Who is he… I–”
The girl moaned softly in despair.
She gripped her hands, and the feel of her smooth skin reaffirmed her existence.
White steam filled her vision, which also hid the girl’s tense cute face.
Her white, soft skin was slightly reddened from the heat. Several rose petals floated in the small bathtub where her full breasts floated in the warm water from which water streamed down.
“… Maybe I’ve been in here for too long.”
…
Prologue: The main character won’t make an entrance by falling down from the roof
The hand extended toward the golden haired girl.
It belonged to a black haired youth, and felt a little rough and was the grip was strong, which reminded the girl a little of her father who had passed away, though her own father would never point a sword at her…
The youth stared at the girl silently with his black eyes, and not a shred of warmth could be detected from his face.
Astonishment filled the girl’s astounding sapphire blue eyes while the royal insignia on her chest dimmed.
The youth wielded a special sword in his other hand which gave off a pure white light as it pointed downwards, as though it were surrounded by a faint halo of light that was especially striking in the dark night.
Innumerable corpses lay around them, and the continuous waves of cannon fire had stopped some time ago. Only several shouts from soldiers could be heard now and then.
Broken swords and rifles marked the graves of fallen soldiers on the battlefield as tattered flags swayed in the wind which carried the thick smell of blood.
“Haha… Haha…”
— The youth was laughing?
The youth was indeed laughing, as he sheathed his strange sword with a single smooth movement, leaving a white silhouette in the air.
“Welcome to France, my fair lady.”
…
“Who is he… I–”
The girl moaned softly in despair.
She gripped her hands, and the feel of her smooth skin reaffirmed her existence.
White steam filled her vision, which also hid the girl’s tense cute face.
Her white, soft skin was slightly reddened from the heat. Several rose petals floated in the small bathtub where her full breasts floated in the warm water from which water streamed down.
“… Maybe I’ve been in here for too long.”
…
