A blonde woman shivers in one corner of the alley. Her hands repeatedly rub together for warmth, but it's futile. The air around her isn't friendly anymore. Plus, the clothes she's been wearing since last night are damp, maybe drying against her increasingly slender frame.Her eyes start to wander around, not many people passing through. She doesn't care. All she's thinking about is getting further away, avoiding those who might be after her. She looks back several times, making sure she's truly managed to escape. She's stopped for almost ten minutes now. Her head feels like it's been pricked by thousands of needles. Not to mention, her feet, clad only in shoes with holes at the tips, have become stiff and hard to move.She tries to remember if it's already winter now. "Damn. I forgot North Metro is a cold country," she curses. She hugs herself again. Her breath starts to smoke, and her walk becomes even more painful. She winces but tries to ignore it. Her head remembers the warmth of

"Sir?"Gala lets out an annoyed sigh. "What now?""Let me help. So it'll be done faster, Sir."Gala usually doesn't get triggered to anger or annoyance, but since earlier, when he was tidying up the kitchen area that resembled a shipwreck—almost like his own kitchen but currently less painful to look at. Whatever Dice was doing, the kitchen and dining area looked neater and livelier. Gala often struggles to find time to tidy up this spacious but not-so-spacious flat. He's like a busy employee with tons of tasks, yet his tasks involve dragging trash and washing a mountain of pots and dishes."Come in," Gala orders. This time, he doesn't tolerate all of Dice's words around him. He's lucky Mr. Richard is visiting his son. He's free to remove Dice from the box hanging around his neck."But, Sir." Dice speaks again. His eyes gaze at Gala with a hint of plea. Since a while ago, he's noticed that his boss hasn't complained at all about the work in front of him. It's the same in the restauran

All night, Gala couldn't sleep soundly. His mind kept replaying his conversation with Dice, especially about his father. From what he remembers about Xavier, the man is gentle and often smiles. Quite the opposite of what Dice said. When Gala voiced his concerns, Dice just smiled awkwardly. Then...I don't know what Dice did, but in front of Gala, it's like a big screen where he sees someone he recognizes: Xavier. Walking cautiously with a large gun-like weapon slung over his shoulder. His eyes sharp, scanning the surroundings, his body moving agilely through trees and plants."This is Mr. Xavier hunting the owner of an illegal store in East Metro, sir. At that time, he hadn't met Mrs. Bellamie yet.""Does he ever age?""What do you mean, sir?" Dice is confused by Gala's question.While Gala shrugs, "Yeah... you said Xavier is around 800 years old. His face doesn't look old at all. Just as I remember him before he left me abruptly." There's frustration and anger in Gala's voice that he

"Gala, can you be faster? The customers are waiting, oh my god!" Marta arrives with a flushed face. The circles under her eyes also look darker than usual. Gala quickly turns and thinks, he has already placed the glasses Marta should use in their designated spot. So, what's the problem now?"Are you looking for glasses?" Gala asks with a puzzled expression. The girl, who would actually be pretty if she just looked a bit more normal when applying makeup, sighs in annoyance. Her tied-up hair, with some strands sticking out, slightly obstructs her vision. Not to mention her lips not showing any signs of a smile."Yeah!""On the shelf, Marta. You can check it yourself."Gala feels like he's just informing, not engaging in a two-way conversation, but Marta's face, for some reason, turns purple. As if holding back anger, she raises her middle finger perfectly at Gala. "What did I do wrong?" he wonders. Following Marta's movements as she quickly takes the glasses, her back disappears from th

Gala shivers with cold. The flashes of memory from earlier terrify him. Luke's stern face makes it seem like Gala is taking his last breath. It replays in his mind until he can't sleep tonight. Despite drinking repeatedly, he thought it might help him forget along with the water passing through his throat. But it turns out it's all pointless.Gala even skips his dinner. He lets Dice do whatever she wants in the kitchen, which he finds a bit messy. Dice's presence turns out to be quite useful, keeping his stomach from growling too much.Since entering the small flat Gala occupies, Dice knows her master is in disarray. Along the way, he mutters, his hands shaking, not to mention his facial expression like someone confused. Dice wants to talk, but she abandons the intention. It's useless. Gala, in this distracted state, might be even more shocked to hear her explanation.Allowing Gala to enter his room without changing clothes, Dice glances at him briefly to see what her master is doing.