# I'll choose this child.

After finishing the delivery to the nameless mailbox. "It's done!"

As the lingering glow of dusk stained the alley walls and the streetlights began to flicker on one by one. Faint footsteps ascended the stairs of the apartment where the nameless one lived. At the end of the second floor, the lid of the rusted iron mailbox rattled, though there was no wind.

Inside was a single sheet of paper. It was neither fine parchment nor traditional paper, but something with a strangely thick texture that seemed to cling to the pads of the fingers when touched. Something was written on the surface in an unfamiliar language, yet it was strangely readable.

"If you write the name of a place you want to go on this paper, you can go there."

One line followed below.

"Try writing something."

In the sender column, there was only one word.

"Nephilia"

For just a moment, a cloying scent seemed to waft from the depths of the mailbox. A fragrance like something fumbled from the bottom of a dream—one never smelled before, yet one the brain instantly judged as a "good smell." It vanished quickly, leaving only the usual dusty everyday life in the apartment hallway.