Before I knew it, the second bound-volumes were already extracted from the forest of new-release stacks to the storage space, saving the sole winner whose lonely, inconspicuous spine was visible on the UJ-YJC-designated shelf. As I gently coerced the silent figure away from his solemn, snug crevice, I felt a pang of guilt running up from my fingertips. Forgive me for allowing life to banish you from my thoughts. I spent a full twenty minutes drinking in the exquisite detail on his body. A soft moan of satisfaction and an inaudible rustle of the jacket's sleeve brushing against his skin. I then laid him next to his kin inside a mahogany cabinet and slid the glass door shut.
It took me nearly two months to suppress the strong, intrinsic indolence and fight back against the universe's inertia--evil responsibilities aside, and pick him up again and translate. What I want to say is: I am very sorry for the long seven months. Please enjoy the seventh tale. You won't have to wait eight months for the eight tale, I have already finished translating it.