"Quill" Club's entrance, the novelist waited quietly.
She was wearing a black furisode today, the most formal attire for an unmarried young woman, with black being the most noble of them all.
The furisode was elaborately embroidered with gold thread and colored yarn, the patterns of birds and beasts pulsating with the ebbs and flows of the moonlight, as if they were alive.
But the novelist's hair was not styled in a high bun; instead, it hung loose behind her head, with the front cut in a princess style.
Her fair complexion was expressionless, like a delicate Japanese porcelain doll.
Yet her gaze was as dark as a deep well, emitting an aura that was both authoritative and enigmatic.
In the distance, a woman dressed in a Western-style formal gown hesitated for a long time before finally coming over to say hello.
"Great Izanami..."
She had barely started speaking when the novelist interrupted her.
