Death of a great man

That day, it was a rainy day. It was strange: on the human continent it was rare for it to rain in the height of summer. But that day, however, it seemed that heaven had decided to cry to give one last, worthy greeting to the man in the coffin.

Jocelyne was under her umbrella, staring blankly at the cemetery. The chapel in front of her was besieged by countless people, and many others were out waiting, like her. All of them were dressed in black and had a mournful face. After all, no one could be happy at a funeral.

Jocelyne just waited for her turn. She could have used her position to get in before her, but she didn't want to. Even though there were dozens of armed guards around her who kept an eye on her to protect her, she at least wanted to pretend to behave like a normal person.

Finally, her turn came. Entering the chapel she noticed the dejected looks of some people staring at her curiously. She paid no attention. She just went quickly to the altar. There,

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