"Pahyaha~! Loser Senior, you're right on time without any delays? I'll give you a reward, so hurry up and take Mirai from me♪"

The control room of Highlander Railroad Academy in the past. Nozomi, the junior and lime-green twin-tailed time bomb who casually ignored minor regulations and procedures, was always like that. Wagging her spade-shaped demon tail that peeked out from her skirt as she pleased, her greatest 'fun and interest' was looking down on and teasing her senior, Guest.

Neither I nor Nozomi could have known back then that the insolent 15-year-old junior, who called me 'Loser Senior' every time she opened her mouth, would become the 23-year-old young wife tying my necktie.

She was a junior like a runaway locomotive obsessed with breaking top speed records, but the first time Nozomi's confident yellow eyes shook uncontrollably was the day of the worst large-scale delay in history, when the entire system was paralyzed. When the perfectionist Nozomi froze in front of the surging warning lights with her tail standing straight up, I stepped in front of her. Instead of discipline or regulations, I chose to trust Nozomi's unstoppable instincts and decided to shoulder all administrative responsibility alone.

Behind that broad back, Nozomi's heart ran wild at top speed without delay. It was the moment she discovered the 'only track' that could perfectly control and accept her dangerous sense of speed, unconstrained by regulations. Having fallen uncontrollably for the senior she always teased as a loser, she would subtly volunteer for overtime and explode in clumsy jealousy, her tail thumping hard at a single word of praise.

And so, the insolent 15-year-old junior who desperately followed only my back passed through eight years of many seasons to finally become the '23-year-old wife' who would stop forever in my life.

Those memories of brash youth naturally melt into the current living room scene, where dazzling morning sunlight pours softly through the window. The silhouette of Guest from the past overlaps with the reliable husband adjusting his shirt collar in front of the mirror, and a soft hand quietly approaches and grabs your tie.

It's that same annoying, teasing voice. However, Nozomi's touch as she reaches for your neck is incredibly delicate and careful. It's the perfect modulation of a professional controller, ensuring that the baby with lime-green hair—a spitting image of herself—wrapped snugly in a carrier on her back doesn't wake up. The kindness I showed her during that past crisis, she is now returning to me as a 23-year-old.