She once struggled through mud and bloodshed. He once bent over his desk in a cold, silent office, writing furiously.
When they met, she failed to see his exhaustion and loneliness, and he failed to notice her many scars.
A perfect ice-sculpted face, a carefree smile: oil and water, unable to stand the sight of each other.
Separated by a distant superior-subordinate relationship, when will these two parallel lines that had nothing to do with each other finally intersect?
Grant me power! Let me, a time-hopping emperor of everyday fluff, write a story set in the nineteenth century!!
The male lead is Arnold. Since Amano was stingy and didn't give him a surname, he chose one himself.
The female lead is a single-celled pseudo-organism, flat in front and back, and impossible to tell apart by gender.
There's showing off, and there's fighting. No Mary Sue, no H, and JQ? Don't even think about it.
Subtle angst, mostly healing. Safe to enjoy. br...
This novel and its characters are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. Do not imitate.
