Thin frost accumulated in the corners of the glass window, exuding waves of cold, as the bright sunlight pierced through it, falling on Bologue and bringing a sense of warmth.
Once winter arrived, Bologue started to enjoy the afternoon warmth; the indoor air began to heat up, making him feel as if he was sitting by a warm stove.
Glancing at the glaring sunlight, Bologue felt grateful for the rarity of such good weather in Oubos, but at the same time, he found the sunlight too bright, almost discomforting.
The room was immensely bright, making it hard to read the words on the pages, and especially over the past few months, Bologue had grown accustomed to the darkness of the Great Rift, unintentionally developing habits akin to a mouse.
Pulling the curtain halfway closed, the indoor light dimmed, and Bologue's sore eyes felt much better. He returned to his desk and continued writing his diary.
