Maid Edsa looked worriedly out on the terrace, the sky as clear as a wash, but the gauzy clouds beneath seemed to hide some ominous shadow in the increasingly heavy port. In her gaze, a series of red-tiled roofs stretched into the distance, with majestic buildings depicting a unique landscape of Passa Road District.
That is the nobles' opulence, delicacy, exuding comfort everywhere. Yet traces of the storm remain, with broken branches in the courtyard still uncleaned, seemingly representing some bad omen.
"I'll have someone clean them up; the people below are too out of line," Edsa sighed lightly. Her words sounded more like a gentle inquiry than speaking to herself.
She stared at the back of the man on the terrace, his deep brown near-black long hair flowing like a waterfall over the red cloak, with the cloak's edge lined with snow-white fur, cascading to the ground.
