About This Novel
2889 AD, Ganymede, New Rome. The unusually strong lion dug anxiously into the sand-covered ground with its huge claws as sharp as steak knives. Its dark green eyes wandered back and forth maliciously through the iron gate amidst its heavy snoring. Its spotless, thick mane glows with a silky brassy sheen, its slender tail stands like a bottle brush between its muscular hind legs, and its bright red tongue hangs beyond its curved canine teeth stained with saliva. Those competition organizers whose aesthetic ability is no better than that of hamsters probably believe that this grinning look is a sign of so-called "wildness". But in my opinion, this beast is more like the silly guys on the coats of arms of medieval nobles who stick out their tongues and clumsily hold their shields or other things, rather than a living, flesh-and-blood beast.
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