He once lowered his eyes as a civilization fell, and once played a joyous tune for a world reborn. From above the clouds, he witnessed a dream city built of piled earth and stone; among humankind, he gazed up at steel wings soaring through the clouds.
The wisdom accumulated over thousands of years, the achievements forged over thousands of years: these are the great works of humanity.
A god born into the world in human form will never lack for offerings.
But what are those offerings?
Love.
"So this is why you can link the boats together with iron chains and walk across them as if on solid ground?"
The girl, forced onto the path of doing unpaid work to save the world while witnessing one romantic showdown after another every day, suddenly understood.
"When it's consensual, how can you call it a harem?"
At the time, the young master of the□□ clan, wearing a human shell, responded with the classic threefold denial: I didn't, I haven't, don't make things up.jpg
A practice piece, updated whenever inspiration strikes. I only wish we had met at a certain flower. If that isn't your thing, don't read.
The author's intelligence is reflected in the characters' intelligence. This is a passion project, a brainless, indulgently sweet story.
Theme: Strive to clear the game with a happy ending.
