Terra Intercontinental Endeavor is a 24-year-old woman. Today, she had gone fishing with the woman from earlier and thrown out an astonishing catch of 315,000 tonnes—a catch which would have been certain to bring them a fortune. It had been a strange personal experience, the kind of thing that didn't happen to her often.
Less than three days ago she had been fishing with men, not women. She had been the discard.
“Oba-samaaa…!”
World’s End Board was a family-style beer hall in the Endeavours’ base ship, Idaho. Many families enjoyed dinner at its rows of fine wooden tables. The antique bar counter was adorned with militia-themed carvings; at it, changeover crews and surface run sailors on their way home from work tipped back their heads and downed their pints.
A tall woman staggered into the amiable atmosphere. She wasn't just casually tall, but eclipsed both the front waiter and bartender. She wasn't lanky, either, and had the chest and hips to match her stature. Her figure was large, slender, and balanced, and the absurd and impressive height that accompanied it preserved its balance.
It wasn't just her impressive height wasn’t the only thing that stood out, her appearance did too. Most of the Endeavours in the beer hall wore thick cotton or leather, cutting casual, unfashionable and rustic figures.
The young woman’s straw-blonde hair was fixed with a floral ornament, and she wore a social dress and white bodice decorated with laces and frills that were lively green of budding leaves. Despite that, it was hard to say she looked elegant, given the large suitcases she carried in each hand. She wore enough makeup to be mistaken for a supermodel, but it had gotten a bit messy.
She had arrived from a party but looked like the sole survivor of a platoon.
“Terra-chaaan! Over here! What’s with that look, don’t tell me…”
A married woman got up from a round table to greet her. It was her aunt, Mora Intercontinental. Even though she was 20% shorter than Terra, she had double the age, vitality, and ability to pamper others.
Whimpering ‘Aah, oba-sama…’ Terra finally arrived at the table and—slam—fell prostrate on it, waving a white handkerchief.
“I’m sorry, I’m moving back in...! This was our last formal ball, and we broke it off. I’m really, really sorry.”
“Straight from the ball? Wow, you got this far and it still fell through...” Mora took an exaggerated look at the ceiling. A pitiful sigh came from the seat beside her.
After Terra lost her parents, Mora took her in. Terra had only been 18 when they passed away in a sightseeing ship accident, and because of that, her relationship with Mora wasn't as close as with her parents, who'd raised her from a young age. But still, it was an important time in Terra's life, so Mora and her husband couldn’t just stand by.
The marriage interview had been for the sake of her clan.
“My, my, rest now, you gave it your all. So, if you don’t mind telling me, what went wrong?” Mora asked Terra as she seated herself. Her husband, Rubal, passed Terra’s order to the waiter. “I thought the Secretarius family’s third son Elephas was a good match, but there were things you didn’t like about him, weren't there? Did he step on your foot during the dance?”
“Thanks for the concern,” Terra lifted her face and looked at her aunt, dark green eyes drowning in exhaustion. “But I didn’t turn him down, he turned me down. Ah, he didn't step on my foot though.”
Her shoulders tightened apologetically, and she began to explain. “Yesterday we went out for a net throwing trial and I didn’t meet his standards. We followed the usual approach a few times, but none of our attempts went well. I thought that we just needed to keep trying until we got it, but at the party he said ‘your nets are too complicated for me’...”
“Oh my, if only he had been a more skilled twister...”
“No, no, he wasn’t bad at all.” Terra removed her hair ornaments and lace sash, and now dressed more casually, she mixed in a sigh as she said, “It was my fault... I made a tunnel net with, um... eight arms.”
“Eight arms for a tunnel net? That’s a lot. Why?” Rubal Minuteman asked from the side. He was Mora’s husband and Terra’s uncle-in-law. He had already put away two pints, and his boorish, unshaven face had a ruddy glow. By all appearances, he gave the impression of working as a water miner or in an outer-boat factory, but in reality, he held a rather dull job as a clerk for the Council of Elders. Much like his wife, he valued justice and a virtuous mind, and his only real problem was that he didn’t have much of an imagination.
Upon hearing her husband’s question, Mora pompously shook her head. Terra answered with a forced smile.
“Well, I guess it was something I came up with myself… Since the besshu were going to go this way, and also that way, naturally I changed the net to compensate.”
“Usually, no one would think twice and just trawl with a typical two-arm tunnel net, yeah?”
“Yeah, haha...”
Rubal’s blue eyes blinked in astonishment, and while he didn’t mean badly, Terra could only muster a bitter smile in response.
It was up to Mora to save the situation. “Not thinking is... difficult for this girl. There’s no reason for it. All we can say is that she’s just that sort of girl. It’s like how not everyone can throw nets just because they’re women.”
“That so, Terra?” Rubal asked Terra, who nodded.
“How do I put this… It’s like Oba-sama said. It’s true I’m bad with nets but, it's not because I can’t make them, I go way overboard instead…”
“You have trouble reining in the fine details?”
“Well, I guess you could say it’s something like that.” In proper agreement, Terra nodded.
“Let’s go back to our conversation!” said Mora. “I'd like to understand your tastes a little better. So! How about it? If you give me the okay, I could be of assistance again, don't you agree?”
“I’m not saying no, but isn’t the Bow Awow already over...?”
“Hmm, that may be true, but it could help with the next candidate. Don’t you think some details would be useful? I really don’t know your type...”
“Do I have to spell out what I like for this to work? Honestly, I just want a twister so I can sail my boat!” Terra said with a gentle smile, but it had the opposite effect.
She had hurt her aunt, who replied, “My, that may be, but…” then awkwardly averted her eyes.
“We can arrange something! As much as we can to meet your expectations—also, although I'm already quite certain, I just want to make sure...but you haven't had any issues with their looks this whole time, hmm?”
“Well, I guess.”
“So let’s start there. What did you like?”
“Looks, hmm...”
Truthfully, Terra didn’t think that she had a type for men at all. She couldn’t just say it that bluntly though, so she had no other choice other than to say what she didn’t like.
“I think they were a bit too tall.”
“Eh?”
“Your choices so far have all been taller than me... so you picked them for their height, didn't you, Oba-sama?”
“Yes, I did but… hmm... huh, wait, you don’t...?”
“If I had a choice, then it’s fine if they’re not that large... that's how I feel.”
“Huh…?! Really?”
Mora looked at Terra in surprise, the younger woman's face 15 centimeters above hers. Terra opened her arms with a bitter smile, almost two meters separating the tips of her left and right fingers. “As you can see, no one needs to protect me, don’t you think?”
Her aunt and uncle looked at each other and nodded.
“Now that you mention it…” “You’re right.”
Although the Endeavour clan was more permissive than other clans, it still had its old-fashioned customs, like the expectation for men to lead women. Mora’s upbringing led to the natural assumption that Terra required a companion befitting her height.
“Oh no, I messed up. My judgment was way off...!”
“That’s because you’re too headstrong sometimes.”
“Didn't you say you had no problem with him since he's a Secretarius?”
“That was just common sense speaking. I thought that you understood Terra better.”
“So that was because you don't understand her either, huh?”
“Uh, I’m sorry, I’m really sorry! Oji-sama, Oba-sama, it’s all my fault. I’m sorry.” Terra timidly interrupted their stare-down and the two immediately started smiling again.
“No no, you didn’t do anything wrong, Terra. It’s the guy’s fault for not accepting you!”
“That’s right, you didn’t do anything wrong. You didn't receive any complaints before now, did you?”
“Yes, yes, thank you...” She hadn't been sure if that would help settle their argument, but it worked somehow. Now deep into her own thoughts, she sighed.
Why is marriage like this? Is this struggle really absolutely necessary?
Of course, she understood it was all for the sake of preserving the Circs, but...
The hidden reason for all of this was the pillar boat she had inherited from her parents, which made her an owner-decompa. If she wanted to fly, it was necessary to marry a twister from another clan. However, since she was single and not already engaged to a man who could be a twister, there wasn't any choice but to compromise and start searching for an unmarried man among the singles from other clans who mingled while the base ships were convened.
While that was possible in theory, there weren’t actually that many men who fit the age and clan criteria. As a result, the search for a suitable partner within the 16 Circ clans had become a major hassle.
“Please don’t worry about it. It'll be my pleasure to set you up with a husband, I promise.”
Despite her promise, matchmaking was an undoubtedly difficult job, even for the childless aunt Mora. Although correspondence could be exchanged and arrangements made in advance, face-to-face meetings were only possible during the month-long Bow Awow.
Naturally, Terra’s selling point was her unusual height. Larger builds weren't subject to marriage limitations, but since one could set their height preferences in the search network, most took one look at Terra and excluded the outlier from their results.
Making matters worse was Terra's excessive imagination, which fueled her habit of devising odd tools like the eight-arm octopus-shaped tunnel net. Twisters desired a decompa who made nets to their orders, so she had a clear flaw.
So, all told, she felt incredibly guilty around her aunt and uncle.
The floundering atmosphere at the table was saved by the waiters, who had finally arrived. The scent of the juicy, sizzling beef-like steak filled the air, steam rose from the soft potato-like mash, and the cauliflower-like side dish was a vibrant green. They were printed foods which had been cooked, but their flavors were the pride of the manager and rivaled their equivalents from the common era. All three were impressive Endeavour clan specialties.
“Oba-sama, the bill...”
“What are you talking about? Does anyone worry about their wallet right after they’ve returned from a trip? It’s fine, eat up!”
“That’s right, ‘stuff your guts and squash what's bugging you’, cheers!”
“Ah, right, cheers!”
Repeating one of the clan’s popular idioms, the uncle made a toast. At the very least Terra sincerely shared the sentiment, and pints filled with beer-like met each other with a clink, yellow bubbles fizzing.
The three ate and drank to their hearts' content, and when they finally cleared their plates, returned to their talk.
“Well, that’s the thing, you know. We can handle things one way or another with food, and it's not like we're running out.”
“Mhm, that’s right. You're not the only one gathering resources. Even if your boat is grounded, the others will keep doing their best. There are other twisters and decompas.”
“Mora, that’s not… Ah well. At any rate, our clan’s got a bit of a surplus in storage, so no reason to worry about one or two grounded boats.”
Though it would have been better left unsaid, Terra tried not to be bothered since both had intended to provide her peace of mind. No—if anything, they’d said it for their own peace of mind.
In its own way, Terra’s failed engagement was a serious situation. It wasn’t just a matter of happiness eluding Terra yet again. The Circs survived on Besshu caught from the gas giant. They didn’t eat the Besshu directly, but first processed it through the recycling equipment they’d constructed. The planet's unique AMC Clay was also processed for export to the Galactive Interactive. However, each clan possessed no more than ten fishing boats.
An individual pillar boat was perfectly capable of feeding 10% of the almost 20,000 Endeavours, meaning a little less than 2000 people per boat. However, since Terra was unmarried, her pillar boat was grounded and unavailable for fishing. To put it another way, it was constant dead weight moored to Idaho’s dock.
Mora was correct when she said the other boats could cover it just fine. They could manage the burden as long as there were other fishermen, even if they still retained a percentage of their catch. That said, the pillar boat had been grounded since the death of Terra's parents six years ago, and she remained unmarried. The situation wasn't an emergency, but it wasn’t pleasant, either. The Council of Elders had already approached Terra three times to request she sell the pillar boat to them if she wasn't going to use it.
Her aunt and uncle never touched on that subject. While there were flaws in their caretaking, they were fundamentally two very virtuous people. It made Terra feel incredibly guilty. She turned her face away, her body shriveling.
Through the beer hall’s side window, the planet was visible against space.
Ah, the Left Eyeball is smiling today.
Her attention was caught by one half of a duo of perpetual anticyclones, and it carried Terra’s thoughts away with it.
From orbit 6000 kilometers away, the full globe of the gas giant couldn’t be observed. Its red and orange belts and white zones morphed into innumerable fractal swirls like a mural. The scene, which could be described as the pinnacle of beauty, was adorned with an overwhelming amount of detail.
Until she became an elementary cruise-school student, Terra watched the sight through a telescope until she was tired. In those ever-changing vortices, she saw faces, icons and various animals. Hearing twister and decompa stories about that cloudy world from her parents allowed her to believe she would descend there herself one day. However, these days Terra had another reason not to let go of her pillar boat.
As the Idaho spun, so did the scenery in the window. The striped planet swept to the right, and from the left large cross-shaped wings extending from a pitch-black bird appeared. The tips of the cross were supposed to be tied together by rotating rings, but they weren’t visible to the naked eye. Its center was short and stout, and running down its long, narrow body were portholes which blended into a beautiful rainbow gradient.
The window removed any sense of distance, creating the illusion that it was floating 10 meters away. In reality the beast, measuring 60 kilometers end to end, was anchored 100 kilometers away.
Modern Circs weren’t capable of crafting such a complex spaceship.
The Dàxúnniǎo was an interstellar trade ship from the Galactive Interactive. Among its passengers were dignitaries, some of whom might be better described as envoys from hell. Like a merchant caravan traversing deserts long ago, it traveled star to star within humanity's 4000 lightyear-wide domain, selling beautiful treasures and curiosities from distant countries.
Much like a pillar boat's cockpit, the Dàxúnniǎo was equipped with high-tech gear, allowing it to retrieve data from the local star system. It would depart once finished with the exchange, carrying local commodities and emigrants along with it.
Letters sent by the emigrants returned in a variety of scripts and formats, but their senders rarely came back—and if they did, it was often only briefly. As a result, some of the more suspicious folk claimed the emigrants had been victims of clone fraud or even human traffickers.
Terra fixed her gaze on the black ship. The Dàxúnniǎo and the pillar boats were both spacecraft, but beyond that basic comparison, they were totally different. A marvel of applied cosmology, the bird used the Guāngguànhuán Drive to fly between stars at faster-than-light speeds by punching tunnels between gravitational equipotential surfaces.
However, if the Dàxúnniǎo were to descend 3000 kilometers, the gas giant’s atmospheric molecules would probably pluck it clean and turn it into a charred, crumbly chicken.
The pillar boats wouldn't burn in that environment. They could only travel at 30 kilometers per second, but the convecting exterior of heat-resistant AMC Clay allowed them to fly through the vast skies while glowing at a temperature of 3000°C.
That’s what Terra wanted to fly in, but she couldn’t fly alone. To do it, she absolutely required a partner—someone who’d attire themselves in a gorgeous deck dress, someone with whom she could share a deep mutual trust, someone willing to look into the abyss with her and make an unwavering vow.
Who would it be?
Someone tall as an antique bookshelf and the width to match, but timid and only ever capable of apologizing, like the young man from the QOT clan?
“….Mm.”
Terra knit her brows and stopped moving her fork. Remembering the only time she had boarded with him made her lose her appetite. Thankfully, the memory didn't outright make her hurl. She'd had far worse experiences compared to his time as her partner.
She wouldn't call her having to put up with marriage trials her biggest source of anxiety, but the fact they were an unavoidable part of life still made it a deeply ingrained one. In life, it was only natural that there would be experiences she’d have to put up with, nothing to be done about it.
Not being allowed to leave the table until she finished the vegi-like cubes she hated. Having no choice but to clean the blood leaking from her panties without knowing how. Writing things in her free time, unaware she was the only one who did. Showing her off own fantastical drawings of imagined ecosystems to her entire class only to be met with disgust... these had all happened to her, and that was just life.
That was why she felt there was nothing but to accept boarding with an unknown man for now– “Terraaa, youuu did it agaaaain, and—and—and here I thought it was gonnaaa to go great this tiiiiime…”
“Wahya!”
At some point her aunt had emptied her fourth pint, and she drunkenly clung to Terra. Mora tapped Terra’s shoulders, sloppily massaged her arms and tightly hugged her belly before suddenly and forcefully lifting her breasts.
“Even though you haaaave, no flaws, and—and those valuuuable big parts…”
“Wai—sto-stop, Oba-sama! Oji-sama, do something!”
“Hahaha, it’s fine. Cute, ain’t she?”
Terra desperately tried to push her aunt away while Rubal merely laughed. If she were to point out any flaw in her aunt, it was how she always got far, far too drunk. Her uncle said that wasn’t a flaw at all, since Mora only excessively praised others, but Terra considered that a matter of spousal favouritism.
“This isn’t the time to mess around. Get a grip, Oba-sama!”
Terra’s resolve had firmed. She shook her aunt’s shoulders and raised her voice.
“I’m going to try again. Is there anyone you can introduce me to? Actually, there’s no time, so which clan should I hop over to and leave with...?”
Right as she was about to say ‘What kind of nonsense am I spouting?’ a determined voice barged in from beside the table.
“That marriage interview, can it wait?”
Terra placed her aunt back at the table and turned around.
A small and slender doll stood there.
No—her appearance resembled a doll, but she was a girl who looked around 15. Her silver hair was pressed down by a head cover, and she wore a purplish-silver formal minidress with lace fringes. Legs as smooth as a candle. Blue eyes. She carried a slightly oversized gray rucksack on her back, almost as if she were a refugee. The girl’s skin and dress were sharp, cold and gorgeous; red only faintly tinged her eyelids. Her small chest rose and fell with heavy breaths.
In a beer hall inhabited by an unfashionable clan, her figure stood out even from its young men and women. Her presence clearly differed from theirs at its very foundation. There was no mistaking that she was from another clan.
However, her origin wasn't the the main issue at hand, it was the lack of time. Terra and the others could relax because this was home, but that wasn’t the case at all for someone from another clan.
Before she could continue, Rubal looked at the big clock and questioned her. “You’re from another clan, ain’t ya? It’s almost purge time, only… 20 minutes left until the fleet disperses. You gonna be okay?” Even after 7000 years, that clock had remained in use. Its hour hand pointed almost straight up.
The Bow Awow only happened every two years. The 16 base ships, which normally flew separately, aligned their orbits and docked together almost like a big, assembled festival. While the permanent Council of Elders held general meetings, the youth would trade, fight, hold concerts and dance with each other—but most importantly, they frantically sought a spouse. They were all serious about it, too, because the moment the clock hit midnight on the 30th day, it was time for the purge, when the ships dispersed.
Once dispersed, they’d return to their separate orbits. The reason was simple: distributing the fishing grounds. If the entire fleet formed a single ring, they would overcrowd a small zone of the planet. The sensible action to take, then, was to place each clan in its own orbital inclination, equally spaced around the planet.
Only 10 minutes remained until the star horn loudly sounded to close the festival and initiate separation of the docking clamps joining the 16 base ships. Then as promised, they’d only rejoin after two years orbiting Fat Beach Ball’s 140,000 kilometer diameter on their own. Once that happened, the girl would be unable to return to her own clan.
“It’s fine.”
It definitely wasn’t fine, but she spoke calmly, stepping forward to center herself in Terra’s sight. Then she stared at Terra, her gaze slowly dropping from the top of her arranged hair to a stopping point at her chest, as splendedly adorned by the dress as the bow of a large boat. Terra suddenly caught the smell of sweet botanical smoke, like a flower or bark being burnt.
“Are you Terra Intercontinental Endeavour-san?”
Getting called by her real name like that made Terra a little hesitant. She nodded. Others found it way more convenient to treat her as Terra Tell-Tale, so not being called that could be seen as respectful.
If it’s just for a bit, then it’s okay for us to talk.
“Y-yes... and you are?”
“I’m Diode, from the first letters of DIE-Over-Dose. If you could, please call me that.”
“Die? Diode-san?”
“Correct.” She nodded and continued her rapidfire speech. “I’m 18 years old and my mother is called Rock. She’s the captain of the Sōfu-iwa, Tsunami Search-class. It didn’t join the Meteorological Observation Association, so that’s why its name isn’t in the register, but it received a rescue medal at the Bow-Awows in 290 and 299. It’s capable of both searching and raising alarms on coordinates. I lived with and watched my mother pilot the dual-use air and space ship for 15 years, so I can manage it. I’ve also got 9500 hours of cruising experience.”
“Huh? Rock? Sofi?” Terra asked confusedly. Diode’s conversation wasn’t just filled with details, it also completely broke the rule of first introducing yourself with your name. In their current situation, there was something indispensable to say before anything else.
“And what’s your clan? Your fami-”
“Terra Intercontinental Endeavour-san!” Diode raised her voice as much as possible and bent forward. “My apologies for being so sudden—it’s our first meeting, and I haven’t even introduced myself, but there’s something I’d like to ask—would you allow me to fly your boat?”
“Huh?” “Eh?” “Uoh?”
Terra and Rubal’s eyes shot wide—even Mora, face-down and drunk on the table, cracked open her eyes.
In the span of three seconds, a volcano of ideas erupted within Terra’s mind, her face becoming incandescent to the very tip of her ears. Her eyes moved from the girl’s slender fingers and settled on her small, soft lips.
The phrase, coming from a girl who had suddenly appeared, normally had a very strong meaning.
“My boat? You want to fly, at night? You? You’re a girl right?!”
“Yes—ah.”
Diode nodded, then quickly covered her mouth. Her cheeks turned a faint red, nothing like Terra’s, and she waved her hand, saying ‘It’s a misunderstanding!’
“I’m sorry, I know I just blurted it out, but I didn’t mean like in a marriage. I want you to allow me to be the twister of your pillar boat, in the literal sense.”
“A twister?” Terra doubted her ears. “Like I thought, you’re a man, aren’t you!”
“I told you, I’m a woman. I'm a woman and I can pilot.”
“Just... what do you mean?” Terra asked, confused.
Diode then began to explain. “Yesterday, someone was netting apple prawns for marriage trials around the 60-degree belt. I saw it through the search-view. They didn’t use the usual tunnel net, but an eight-arm one that unfurled the 16 otters like petals. Usually, no one would dare throwing an eight-arm net like that because it’d result in a mess, but that person did it splendidly. That was you, wasn’t it? The telop said that it was Terra from the Endeavour clan.”
Of all things it had to be the net, the reason why Terra got dumped. She wanted to run away.
“You saw... that?”
“Yes, and when I peeked into today’s ball and saw you, I came running after you.”
“Please, just go back.” Dejected, Terra averted her eyes. “Did you really need to go through all this trouble just to make fun of me? I know my nets are weird.”
“What? Making fun of you? Not at all!” Diode’s eyes and words sparkled with enthusiasm. Again, she moved closer to Terra. “Instead of fleeing the boat in the same direction like big besshu, the prawns scatter in all directions. So the more the net spreads, the less you risk losing the whole catch. I thought the eight-armed net wasn’t bad at all. What’s more, the radial symmetry was precise as a diagram. I’ve never seen a net with that many arms as beautiful as that, not even from the Sōfu-iwa. It was incredible.”
“It was… incredible?” Terra wasn’t used to that word at all, and it might have been her first time hearing it. She shyly lifted her face. At that moment, Diode tightly held Terra’s hand.
“Hafue?!”
Terra’s voice squeaked out. Diode’s slender fingers were as cold as an ice pop, making Terra wonder why. She brought her refined face close to Terra’s, enough to see deep into pupils shaded by silver eyelashes. Terra was seated, and at that height, Diode didn’t need to look up.
“Please pair up with me as a decompa, Terra-san. You need a twister, don't you?”
“But aren’t you a girl?!”
“That’s right, I’m a girl twister!”
Diode was shouting nonsense on par with ‘a square star’, but she didn’t back down.
“I’ve got complete confidence in my skill, it’s just that I don’t have a boat. I don’t really care about hauls or prizes—really, my only wish is to fly! Please!”
The tiny girl, so small her weight and height were only around half and two-thirds of Terra’s, respectively, pursued the much larger woman with zero hesitation. Among the Circs, with their restrictive social customs and etiquette, a proposal that laser-direct was unheard of.
At first, Terra was totally stunned, head empty, but Terra noticed that she was enjoying herself in spite of it.
“Diode-san the twister... Whose mother is called Rock-san, right?”
“Yes.”
“My mother was called Nora Intercontinental and my father Adon Runplotter. Both have already passed away. I’m a decompa who failed her engagement with a certain clan today. Not for the first time, but the fifth. Do you understand what that means...?”
“I wouldn’t say that I understand, but I just found that out. I’m completely fine with it.”
Should she return the grasp of small hand holding hers? Should she let go? Before Terra could decide, her aunt Mora, who had remained quiet to that point, suddenly sprang up.
“Stooop right now! Why are youuu talking like you’re getting engaged, Terra?! The one whooo you should marry is a twissker! A man!”
“Yeah, she should just jump over to another clan, right?” Diode retorted with a faint smile. Pressing the back of her left hand, she brought out her minicell, the time glowing on its display. It was exactly 00:00.
—Whoooh…—
“Pah.” “Ah.” “The time…!”
The Star Horn loudly echoed through the base ships of all 16 clans, signaling the purge.
“The next marriage interview will be in two years.” The 148-cm tall girl puffed her chest proudly and closed her eyes. “But I can board starting tomorrow.”
Terra then questioned the girl standing resolutely on her decision. “You asked for this and cut off your own escape... Isn’t that a bit too unfair?”
“Please don't worry, this is just a show of my determination. If you had refused, then..." She looked at the ceiling for a moment and smiled awkwardly. “Well, there’s no other way. I’d wash plates for two years and go back.”
“...Like I thought, that’s so unfair.”
With a troubled smile, Terra joined their hands together again.