Winter.Some coastal frontier town in Adlerberg.
Irma was lounging in a tree. It was a sycamore tree with a life span of two hundred years, and because of the winter it had lost all its branches and leaves, revealing a bare, strong trunk with a large branch more than three metres above the ground, on which Irma lay comfortably, with her eyes half-closed, and waving a fan in her hand from time to time.
Looking down from above, her head was covered in a dazzling array of jewellery, and she was wearing a gorgeous dress skirt, so whoever saw it would think that this was an extremely extravagant and tacky thuggish young lady.
However, from the front, this was a playful and delicate young girl, seventeen or eighteen years old, with healthy wheat-coloured skin, a small goose-egg shaped face, long and slender eyelashes sweeping across her rosy cheeks, and a delicate nose that was slightly upturned in a somewhat mischievous manner.