The familiar rough voice rang in Angel's ears.
"Mad?" Angel looked in confusion at the thick-covered book in front of him. Earlier, when he saw those round eyes and the unbelievably large mouth, he had some suspicions. Now, hearing its voice, it was exactly the same as the Mad Hat on the statue outside.
"Honorable Ms. Shava, I didn't expect you to remember my name." The eyes of the thick-covered book inexplicably filled with tears, moved.
Angel: "...We met three minutes ago."
As if afraid Angel would misunderstand, the thick-covered book opened up, and two slender hands stretched out from the pages, waving vigorously at Angel: "Please don't misunderstand, I didn't mean that Ms. Shava has a poor memory; what I mean is, someone as humble as I am, being remembered by Ms. Shava, is a great fortune."
Angel was silent for a moment, not knowing how to respond, so he simply changed the topic: "Why did you become this book again?"
