The lilies of the valley at Parchere were in bloom, and the stillness of the night was awe-inspiring. A man in a trench coat walked through the city without leaving a trace.
"Videl, your letter."
Videl came to the mailbox and looked at the white mailbox and the smooth and flawless walls. A letter as thin as a cicada's wings lay inside. This letter is very old and seems incompatible with today's prosperous and beautiful life. Who could this be from?