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... ust was over.

Paris welcomed autumn with a calm and peaceful atmosphere. The heat had disappeared and a cool breeze made it a perfect day for painting.

On such a day, I was happy to run with Grandpa every morning.

We ran farther than usual and settled on a bench.

“Here.”

Grandpa handed me a baguette sandwich and grape juice he bought from Blangery Utopia1

The sandwich tasted sweeter than honey as I ate it under the morning sun, gazing at the sparkl ...

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What the hell is this? What the hell happened here?

How did my room become so ruined after a single night?

The floor and table were covered in dust, his new poster of Zhang Liang Ying that had just been posted on the wall a few days ago had already become yellow and tattered all over. Even Zhang Liang Ying’s beautiful face became monstrous, as if an old devil was looking at him with a terrifying smile.

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