When Charles opened his eyes again, it was already noon the next day, and he was lying in bed with a small table beside him, on which familiar yet foreign soy milk and deep-fried dough sticks were placed.
Feeling warmth in his heart at the sight, Charles knew that only Anna knew how to make these dishes. Having a family member who was familiar to him in this eerie place felt incredibly good.
The soy milk was fresh and sweet, the dough sticks crispy and fragrant. Charles ate with great satisfaction until he got up from the bed, full and content. In an instant, his body tensed, and his gaze fixedly stared at the bedroom door.
For Charles, with his keen sense of hearing, any little sound was easily detectable. Yet, there had been no sound of footsteps outside, but now, at the doorway, there was a letter—a white envelope lying quietly on the red carpet.
