The summer night felt a bit stuffy.
Tonight, the bright moon hung in the sky, its pristine light streaming through the glass door leading to the courtyard, gently settling on the floor of the living room like a docile creature.
Rustle—
Kamiyagawa turned the pages of a book once more.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed when he sensed a familiar presence approaching from behind, accompanied by light footsteps.
However, he did not turn around.
Soon after, in Kamiyagawa's line of sight, a sleeve of moonlight white fabric swung gently onto the surface of the coffee table.
A cool, elegant fragrance with a feminine touch wafted from the sleeve, mingling a cold bergamot scent with the warm aroma of cedar within an oaky bitterness.
Underneath the wide sleeve was a slender, beautiful, pale hand, reflecting a bright, white light.
In that hand was a porcelain cup that Kamiya often used.
Thunk.
The cup was gently placed in front of Kamiyagawa.
