I was joking with my friends a few days ago that I might become an erotic novelist. For now, though, I’m just tried making an outline. A pianist—while playing the piano, without touching himself—was able to reach a physical climax. In a distant country, there was a blind intelligence agent. She had the extraordinary ability to catch any sound from anywhere in the world while remaining at home. She worked under the dictator of that country. At that time, the dictator was preparing to fly to the remote region of the country where a woman he had once loved was living, hoping to be there at the moment of her death. Everyone around him opposed the trip. In that area, swarms of migratory flying butterflies had broken out. If an airplane was caught among them, their unusually highly flammable bodies created a serious risk of the aircraft crashing. Using her exceptional hearing, the blind agent was assigned to detect the faint rasping sounds made by the flying butterflies and protect the dictator. When the plane lifted the dictator into the sky, she began her mission, shifting the focus of her hearing across vast distances. At that moment, she accidentally caught the harmony of piano music and a man’s faint breathing. Struck by the shocking beauty of it, she forgot her mission and became completely absorbed. The airplane exploded in the middle of the butterflies’ dance. The moment the dictator’s vital signs ceased, a tiny implanted device emitted a subtle signal. At the air force base of the dictator’s country, exactly as designed, silo hatches opened silently and autonomously. Hundreds of nuclear warheads were released and scattered across the world.

I usually wake up before the birds, and sometimes I feel like chirping to wake them up—but I hold back.