"Aren't you a little too mature for your age?"
A girl sat in a wheelchair. Her face was a little hazy and could not be clearly seen. But one thing is clear, her long silver hair along with her clothing that doesn't seem to be just a simple patient gown.
"But I think eleven years old is already mature?"
A boy with brown hair sat on the edge of a bench near the girl.
"Ah? Hahaha, of course not."
"Then what age should one be matured?"
"Hm... let's see... I'm not that old so I don't know."
"How old are you?"
"I'm fifteen."
"Umm... is it okay if I ask a personal question?"
"Fufu~ see? Kids your age would just ask right away but okay, as long as I can answer it."
The snow dropped slowly in front of them. Snow mountains on top of land covered in snow were behind the wall of clear pane glasses. In a supposed lobby, only two people sat and looked at this tranquil scene.
"How long have you been in that wheelchair?"
