"Isaac, I went to the chapel with your father to attend a gathering. Make yourself something to eat and don't forget to charge the tram. We are going to pick up Asimov for the basketball game tomorrow."
"And change the cat litter too."
Squeak—Bang.
The door gently closed. Isaac Maxim shook his head, gradually recovering from his hangover. He turned over and sat up from the couch, staggering to his feet. His clothes were disheveled, but fortunately, there was no vomit on them.
"Damn… Last night was absolutely wild."
Isaac rubbed his forehead. Alcohol didn't usually have such a strong numbing effect on a Martial Artist of the Alpha Stage, but last night seemed different.
He walked to the refrigerator, took out a bottle of chilled orange juice, and casually opened the curtains. Under the gray sky, the agrifields gently swayed.
