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A month later, the Sistine ceded the sea power of the Wake Strait to the Golan, and two months later, Tilia died of serious illness in the palace. After that, Mrs. Warminalso lost track.

A few years later, in a small village on the outskirts of Golan King City, a foolish fool sat on the threshold, looked at the gentle woman walking from a distance, tilted his head and shouted sweetly,

"lady."

The author has something to say:

The process of writing a pen is a process of self-healing for me. If I am fortunate enough to heal you in a small way during this process, it is my honor. I look forward to seeing you next time.

(End of the book)